I mentioned in my last blog about my childhood and being not quite like everyone else. Add in the fact that I was a smaller guy who made good grades, and top it off with a 7th grade year complete with brown glasses and high tube socks. There couldn’t have been much of a bigger target on my back at that point, eh.
The thing is, most people thinking of boy bulling as being something physical. Nelson on the Simpsons and how he hangs Martin on a locker by his underwear. It doesn’t always happen that way though. Since I was a really good athlete, there was some underlying respect for that (so I was never literally pushed around). But that doesn’t mean that I wasn’t treated like shit throughout my teen years.
When this starts to happen to some kids, they may have a chance to fight it off by being the life of the party and always getting laughs. This was never my style, and I hadn’t quite perfected my charming smartass sense of humor at that point (yeah I know it hasn’t shown in this blog, but these posts don’t exactly get me in the mood for it).
I will now allow all single (and even married) ladies to breathe a sigh of relief (as they’ve learned that they’re safe from my irresistible spells so far)…..
Anyway….even though I never had to deal with literal bullying pain, the verbal attacks were pretty bad. Being the object of jokes and ridicule (and the total lack of respect that goes along with that) is obviously just as troubling to go through. It made those years mostly hell, and I couldn’t wait to get away to college (when, thankfully, I was then able to mature into a normal student for my age).
Let this serve as a reminder though: just because a boy isn’t coming home with bruises from school (or isn’t on facebook getting a wedgie) doesn’t mean that bad things aren’t happening. I know firsthand, and some of the after effects still linger to this day
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