Karma doesn't shield you from being punched in the face by an old friend

{Warning: Long post. Not entirely emo, though!}

So, a few days ago, a friend of mine held a birthday party in a park. I was invited, and although I was horribly tired due to too little sleep, too much drinking the night before, and an excrutiating day at work, I ended up showing up no less. After all, it was just supposed to be a relaxing evening.

Given my penchant for writing up long-winded recaps of my exhilerating life, you probably already have figured things might not have gone entirely as planned.

As it goes, I turned up alongside my flatmate; the party as such had been going on for a goodly few hours, so being sober set us apart from most others there.
I encountered an old flatmate, and while we certainly did not part on the best of terms back then, it was good to see him again, to find he was still alive, and the past got cleared up well enough. I can't say it's something that's taken a lot of space in my life, but even niggling things are good to put to rest.

Barring a mild worry that drunken people should not at all light up a fire in a park, in particular not without proper preparation and emergency fire-fighting equipment, the park party went without further problems, no dead, injured or arrested, which was good.

Eventually, the rain that seems to best define Danish weather these days returned, and we decided to pack up the gear and head back for the friend's apartment; hauling whatever alcohol left with us and contiuning the party there.

I also met another person at the party. An old friend I haden't spoken to for a goodly while. He and I went way back, from the early days of LAN-parties, later to expand on to roleplaying, both LARP and tabletop. Back in the days where things were late teenage-angsty and all;

I remember when he called me one day, as his mother's husband had trashed his room, and broken his guitar. My friend was completely in pieces, he treasured that guitar. I remember walking around for the remainder of the night, talking him out of various acts of violence, and trying to get his mind off the rather harsh things that had just happened.

As time went, we both got involved in the goth scene in Copenhagen - a 'scene', that one might point out had precious little substance, but plenty of make-believe, as any self-aggrandizing subculture really consists of. We got involved in different stratas there, though, and eventually, he became enamoured with philosophical satanism, under the influence of a rather bleak individual that I later crossed paths with as well.

I watched it, and didn't like it much, but in the end I figured it was his choice. Mathematical outlook on life, he often lived by the maxim of "life is a tragedy for those who feel, and a comedy for those who think". Needless to say, we ended up on wildly different ends of the spectrum; I never did understand why people believe it's an either-or choice. Feeling does not exclude thought, nor should thinking deny one feelings.

Sadly, some things also happened that I was not at all happy with.

First off, while arguably fairly innocent, discovering that one's best friend was busy exchanging saliva with one's girlfriend is never a pleasant experience. Bear in mind, it was during my time of my first relationship, and god knows it was dysfuncitonal as hell. No less, while my girlfriend at least had the conviction to tell me it happened, and apologized, I almost had to drag his reaction out of him. It'd seem, that he was more bitter that he had lost control, than bothered by what he actually had done.

To make matters worse, it then happened again about a month later, during a new year's party; ironically enough held at the friend whose birthday party I went to this week.

Fool me once, fool me twice; it does become a bit hard to justify seeing anything friendly in a person who repeatedly gets somewhat too amiable with your significant other.

Bear in mind, that was around 5 years ago.

As things go, my first relationship eventually died a horrible wasting death, and I moved on. Somehow, it was a bit easier to not hate him after the immediate reason for why I'd want to punch his teeth in wasn't there anymore to remind me, and as time went, we started working on role playing scenarios again. He had become deeply entrenched in the "think, don't feel" mentality by then, and the main reason, really, I was working on scenarios with him was due to the fact that we worked well together.
Over time, we had created a scenario-arranging group alongside two of our old friends, called Procyon. It was never intended to be anything grander than to give us the chance to do some luxury live role playing scenarios for friends. We held a couple of sessions, complete with food, a good location, and characters written specifically for the players. It was close-knit, it was elitist, and it was good.

Then, one day, I recieved an invitation for a scenario. Arranged by the people in Procyon. On the arrangers' list, my name had vanished.

Contacting the three people in Procyon, I learned that by initiative of my old friend, I had been excluded, he had apparantly cited lack of commitment as the reason.
Suffice it to say, I had not been even heard on the subject, and the two other people had been highly suspicious of why I had not been present at the meeting where the decision had been made.
Hardly surprising, I might add someone had failed to invite me to said meeting.

On a perhaps vindictive note, I could point out that in the end, the regular players simply turned around and boycotted the scenario. It fell dead to the ground. And I decided that I had tried enough times to make things work with him. It didn't improve things of course that I learned he'd been busy contacting old mutual friends to inform of how I was squandering my life, my talents, and how I was a lost cause. I don't take well to that sort of stuff either. Fortunately, it appeared that most people he tried to sway, simply contacted me and informed me of what he had told them. I chose not to act on it, and decided to close the door.

Cut to tuesday evening, and I ran into him again. It'd been around two years since I last really talked to him, and in the mood of light intoxication, and an otherwise good evening, I decided to sit down and talk with him again. See if there was indeed anything left worth talking about.

So we began talking; and things didn't go as one could have hoped. Were this a Hollywood film, I suspect there'd been strings, choir and a tearful reconciliation. As this is reality, however, there was neither.

The talking deteriorated into him, once again, trying to analyze me, to point out chinks and cracks in the armor of emotions; but when he started patronizing me, I made it very clear that I, not in the past, nor certainly in the present, would let him speak down to me. Considering his rather significant fuckups in the past (some willfull, some simply from lack of a conscience), he was in no position do look down at me.

It was about at this time, that he extended his hand to me, and asked that we put the past behind us. And then he made his final fuckup; he told me to take his hand within 30 seconds.

I looked him dead in the eyes, and told him he had forgotten who had done what to whom, and told him that he was not the one to set ultimatums.

And then, I guess, something snapped for him. And he balled up his fingers into a fist, and punched me in the face. Followed up by grabbing my collar, and delivering a headbutt as well.

There have been things in my life I've done that I am not neccesarily proud of, moments where my resolve has faltered horribly. This time, though, I am in a quiet way proud that I kept my resolve completely.

I looked him dead in the eyes, and I saw him realizing what he had done. And then I quoted my first girlfriend, the one he'd been messing around with, and whom he later was not above socially sniping at;

"At the end of the day, you're the one that has to live with yourself."

He said nothing, and I don't know if he was in shock after what he'd done, or was waiting for me to punch him, or whatever, but he said nothing, didn't move at all.

Then I bid him my farewells for the good times in the past, and turned around and walked away.
There wasn't really much left to say, anyway, and although I certainly felt somewhat tempted to break his nose, this was supposed to have been a birthday party for a close friend of mine.

Having talked with my friends, I've been told he was approaching catatonia afterwards, and for some reason people keep telling me how bad he feels about it now. For some reason, I can't seem to muster up the grace to feel sorry for him.

"But, he really feels awful about it and doesn't know what to do!"

"Really? Let me see if I've got some caring left for him...Ah, damn, came up short. I've got some bile if that helps?"

I still can't figure out how people who saw it happen can claim he open-handed slapped me; last time I checked, fists and foreheads don't count as slaps, but maybe I'm just pedantic.

And to think that instead of doing the right thing, to say goodbye and leaving; in time I know I'll realize it was the right choice, but I can't help but to think what'd have happened if I had simply punched his clock instead. Broken his nose, and told him "That's how you throw a punch, you weak bitch. Now slither on home."

Immediate gratification has its place, I guess, and right now, I'd enjoy the boost of endorphines rather than waiting for karma to thank me. Maybe it'd also have nulled the point of people trying to tell me how bad he feels what he did. I guess if I'd broken his nose, I'd have made my feelings clear. But calm and composure prevails, or something.

Now to see what this'll end up meaning in the grand scheme of things; I just hope I'll keep to my ideals and; once again, be the better person...but damn it, some gratification would be welcome.

At least I can smile a bit after having written this. I still could use having karma on speed dial, though. Call fate up and say "Yo, I think some rewarding's due here?". Heh.