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This is a question Things we do to fit in

"When I was fifteen," writes No3L, "I curled up in a Budgens trolley while someone pushed it through the supermarket doors to nick vodka and Benny Hedgehogs, just to hang out with my brother and his mates."

What have you done to fit in?

(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 12:30)
Pages: Popular, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

I've never tried to fit in with the world
I'm lazy and an egoist, i'd rather wait for the world to fit me.
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 18:18, Reply)
Teenage Twat
Aged 15 / 16, I was hanging about with a load of no-marks who were getting by with forays into shoplifting and burglary. I decided (as I didn't have the nerve for theft) to set myself up as a fence.

End result (within a matter of a few months) - 4 charges of "aiding in the disposal of stolen goods", hefty fine, immediate job prospects limited to say the least and some seriously pissed off parents. Still embarassing even after many years.
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 17:52, 2 replies)
The things I do to "fit in"
Candles, soft music, loads of gentle foreplay.




And lube occasionally.


Shirley Bindun.
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 17:43, 7 replies)
Hair
Late 1970s; and everyone has Punk/New Wave hair - spiky, rough-cut, stiffened with sugar water (no poncy gel then); scary, aggressive, impossibly cool hair.

So I take my fine, wavy locks and try to make them harden the fuck up. With hairspray, sugar water, backcombing, and - AARGH!! - my Mum's curlers and hairdryer.

Fill the rest in; I'm not delving any further into that memory to tell you what I looked like...
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 17:43, 2 replies)
Taking up smoking.
Retarded, retarded, retarded.
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 17:30, Reply)
not me but a friend
He was a writerly type, a bit shy and awkward. Anyway, he started going on a website and found that he could get plenty of attention writing comedic porn. Soon, he had become something of a fixture on the site even though he was quite bored of writing porn. So he stopped with the gash-lit and turned to so-called amusing anecdotes. But it wasn't enough to keep the interest of his new cyber friends and soon he was a shadow of his former self. He was never on the leader board and others passed him by.

On the other hand, his girlfriend dropped to her knees and ripped open her corset so that her stupendous breasts wobbled forth, their nipples erect. "Spray on my tits!" she groaned, taking his already swollen jerky deep into her glistening throat....
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 17:26, 3 replies)
Not me, but someone I knew
During my second year at Comprehensive, one of my fellow students to fit in claimed to have seen ET the sequel while holidaying in Florida.
His synopsis of the film was that this time Elliot visited ET's planet.
Apologies for the length, it's my first roast!
In reply to all your replies, this was in 1982. I'm an old sod!
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 17:10, 10 replies)
i spent a large portion of my life trying to fit in
jesus, where to start. the button up side reebok tracky trousers. the blue hair. the matrix trenchcoat and eyeliner. the alleged but thoroughly unproveable and probably nonexistent selling of certain things frowned upon by the law but not by clubbers. then after a series of being fucked over by assholes and used as a doormat, i realised, fuck all these chumps, if i pretend to beb something i'm not, how will people know if they like me? now, i am 100% loaf, the full, abrasive, smutty-minded, compassionate scruffy music loving pothead, who speaks his mind regardless of whether it will go down well or not. and if people don't like it, they can get fucked. i've found this to be a rather effective idiot filter, and now, rather than dozens of fairweather' friends' who would turn on me for the price of a drink, and girls who want what i have not what i am, i'm a happy loaf, with an amazing GF who hasn't once tried to change me, and a bunch of good friends who i would lay my life on the line for in a heartbeat, and would do the same.
ooverall folks, it's best to be yourself, it doesn't make you unpopular, it simply eliminates the people you're not gonna get on with, and allows you to concentrate on enjoying life.
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 17:09, 2 replies)
I don't usually try to.
But sometimes it happens in the oddest ways. Like this occasion, back when I was putting my time to good use during my university summer holidays.

I was temping with the bin collectors, amongst other agency work, filling in when they were short on manpower. So after the safety lecture ("Don't stand behind the wagon when it's reversing, don't stick your arm in"), out I go with two others, three man crew per bin lorry.

These guys were all of a certain sort; Sun newspaper, chip butties, football and desire for boobs. They were nice enough, though, despite inhabiting a rather alien world of blokeyness, and the conversation would sometimes wander onto the "philosophical" questions of life, which was nice. I was generally with a different team each day, but always the same thing would happen:

A young lady would catch the driver's eye. He'd lean out and sound his appreciation with the standard hooting whistle. Then, without fail, he would turn to me and say "you got a bird then?"

I would, quite honestly, answer; "no, I'm gay."

There would be a pause while "ctrl-alt-del" is pressed in their minds. Then the subject would neatly change to something entirely unrelated.

Except for one time, when Dave (if I remember right, though it could just as easily be Frank, or Steve, or Bob) responded to my answer with the customary pause, then a thoughtful inhale, then...

"Well, I don't know much about that, but when I were younger I slept with my best mate."

Stunned, I cautiously replied, "you mean, shared a bed?"

"Oh no," said Dave. "We had sex. But not in a gay way."

I couldn't think of a good reply to that one, so it was up to me to change the subject this time.

I wonder how many other blokey blokes have had manly man-on-man sex "not in a gay way".
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 17:03, 16 replies)
bit of a confession...
we're having a baby. Wife's happy, her folks are happy, my folks are happy and our friends are happy. Our work colleagues are happy for us.

Me, I'm struggling to think of anything other than the fact we're entering a recession, my wife wants to stay home after the baby is born (her wage is so low that it would barely cover a child minder/nursery anyway) and I am going to need to find an extra £400-500 a month. I'm really wishing I could enjoy it all, but I just feel nothing but a growing sense of responsibility and dread, but I fake happiness because I want to be like the rest of our happy family...and I am sure when our kid is born that I'll forget any ideas of anything other than trying to be the best dad I can be.

Sorry it's not funny, but it's honest...
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 16:55, 35 replies)
My whole life has been spent....
trying to 'fit in'.

When I was in primary school I remember quite clearly not having any friends. Well, except one chap mentioned in a previous post. I desperately wanted friends and seeing all the other boys and girls running around and playing with each other just made my stomach knot up. My friend at the time had a laugh with some other kids but for some reason they didn't like me so couldn't be friends with them. It also meant that when my friend was with them, I couldn't be as they shunned me out of the group. So I think it was at that point in my life that I began trying to please other people by being what I thought they wanted me to be.

I pretended to like football, so played everyday and 'picked' a favourite team. Even asked for a football shirt (liverpool at the time) for a birthday present - which I didn't even want, just to earn some friends. I took part in kiss chase which I saw as pointless (though secretly liked :D ) and did all the other things that kids of that age liked to do but I wasn't so keen on.

This then spilled into secondary school, where unfortunately my eating habits caused me to put on a few pounds so I put on some puppy fat. Cue the bullying. This went on for about 2 years, all during which time I was learning karate and trying to keep fit. This was something I wanted to do that stemmed from the bullying for being overweight. I actually really loved it and went on to become a 2nd dan and also took up jujistu and nunchaku-do but thats another story. Anyway, I digress - one day, I snapped whilst being called 'fatty boom boom' - chased my bully through the play ground and tripped him whilst running. His face hit the ground with such a thud and the blood came out so fast that I didn't even do anything else... I felt bad for him. This actually scored me points with a few people that I a) stood up for myself and b) showed enormous restraint not beating 10 bells of shit out of him.

Again, to maintain an easy life I pretended to like football and played every bloody day. I also, I am ashamed to say, bullied some other people, which I was / am not proud of at all. I remember once I was on the bus going home and this kid got on that I just didn't like. So I just punched him square in the face. For no reason. What a cunt I was - but I still feel I was a product of what my 'friends' made me. No excuse though, I know.

I started smoking whilst at school too - as it was the done thing, and also drank heavily (cider in the park... whilst very underage) - I also dabbled in weed which turned out to be something that took its hold of me for another 10 years or so. Evil stuff.

Eventually school came and went and I got in the workplace. My first real job and the same situation arose again. I didn't quite fit in with the crowd so had to adjust to make friends. The exact same bloody thing happened for a few jobs until I landed the one I have now.

Now, I am myself. I just do my own thing and let my eccentricities just flow out and dont care if people think I am a mentalist. As it happens they seem to respond well to it and actually like me for me. I even met my current partner here (and probable future wife) - all from just being myself.

So, what important life lesson did it take me so long to learn? Trying to be someone or something you are not is plain bollocks, just makes you feel worthless, incompetant and used. Makes you want to curl up and just fade away into non-existance.

Be yourself... there are always people out there that will give you shit, but for the most part - people will take you as you are which makes life a lot easier and enjoyable!

Sorry for the long post that few will be interested in, and sorry for the lack of funnies - just thought a story like this would break the monotony of all the comical stuff.
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 16:50, 1 reply)
Just call me Tony Hawk...
When I was a young 'un, I loved skateboarding. This would have been back in the late 1980s and early to mid 1990s - I read every issue of R.A.D magazine, collected cuts, grazes, sprains and muscle tears...you name it, I did it. My most prized possession was my Vision "Ken Park" deck, with Ranelli trucks and Santa Cruz wheels. I waxed the wood until it shone, oiled the bearings and religiously tinkered with it. I hated rollerskaters/balders with a passion and I and my best mate used to spend hours just faffing around.

Then I grew past 14 years old and the urge died - nothing dramatic happened, I just preferred learning my guitar, playing rugby at school and going to parties with girls than I did rolling along a car park on a wheeled plank. The beloved Vision deck grew cobwebbed in the garage and eventually was given to a cousin. I left school, went to Uni and never thought about it again.

Roll on until I am 25, my best mate and I have both just started new jobs, but kept in touch with out old colleagues, when one of my mate's new bosses mentions the fact he is going to the local skatepark.

When discussing this with friends over a beer, we are surprised when two of our old colleagues say they are interested in going too.

So, in order to spend time with my mates, I buy a new skateboard, pay £5 and spend three hours watching a group of unfit IT nerds fall over, whilst my mate's 40 year old boss spins like a top on the Vert ramp (turns out he used to be sponsored back in the day and still skates every day).

Rather than call it quits, we *all* spend every evening after work trying to get better on a skateboard... then going back to the skatepark and end up being either bored, embarrased, humiliated or, in one case of a brutal face-plant off of a 5 foot ramp, concussed and horribly bleeding.

This continued right up until my best mate changed jobs and suddenly realised he didn't have to socialise with his boss anymore. The skating stopped almost immediately and our group of friends carried on with our weekly mountain-biking trips instead.

Apologies for length, but it was 8 feet high and made of plywood...
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 16:44, 1 reply)
Ah good old peer pressure
As a small child I had really bad asthma including a few trips to A&E so smoking wasn't exactly on my to-do list

Fast forward some years to secondary school and all my friends started smoking, I used to still hang out with them but just not smoke. Then on fateful day 26 years ago one of the smokers (random other kid not a mate) said "Why are you here if you're not smoking?" "Just hanging out with my friends". Now he was a big scary lad so when he said "you can't be here unless you smoke" I grabbed a fag of one of my mates and lit up

Fast forward to last year I managed at long last to give up smoking
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 16:35, 1 reply)
On giving up, and the blessings it can bring
I can sympathise with a lot of people with this current question, in fact I can empathise as well, which as anyone who knows me will attest, is not a skill which comes to me naturally.

As a lot of these posts will say, we all tried our best to fit in when we were younger. I was no different. I tried the clothes, I tried hanging round at night with the teenage gangs (yet ended up being the butt of their jokes), I tried hanging round with the geeks, but they just annoyed me. I even tried hanging round with the Christians for a while, and whilst they were an odd bunch, they were very accepting. Unfortunately try as I might I couldn't share their views, and so moved on. Suffice to say I was pretty much a loner and only a select few understood my personality- let alone got on with me.

But somehow, I survived and to a certain extent, thrived, when I suddenly realised one day I was trying to be a person that everyone else wanted me to be, which was probably the reason I was such an angry young man. I used to have quite the temper when I was younger, and I still carry that with me now. Many is the time you can see me in my office, confronted with yet another idiot on the other end of the phone, trying to keep my voice on a level and even tone, and trying not to crush the mouse with one hand. But, moving on, as things often do.

My realisation hit me when I got into sixth form- what is the bloody point? I was trying to be all things to all people, pulled in many different directions at once, and finding nothing in any of them. Pretty much as soon as I stopped trying to be with the 'in' crowd, as soon as I just relaxed and decided just to let my personality develop as it should, rather than trying to mould myself into someone else's ideal, that I became a much more relaxed person, and much better for it.

I'm still a bit of an oddball, but instead of viewing it as a problem, I revel in the status. It's much more fun being me than going with the crowd. And it can save money as well. As a result I seem to have more true friends as well, instead of people who would use me as a target for their own insecurities. I will sign off with something of a disclaimer though. I am not perfect, I still have times when I find myself wanting to fit in more, but who doesn't?
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 16:32, 1 reply)
If only she had a cat
My first attempt so apologies if not entertained

The joining in with bullying of others in order to draw attention away from ones own shortcomings and uncoolness seems to be the most common theme here so i shall steer clear of it, mainly as i cant think of any particularly funny incidents, all just embarrassing to look back on.

So fast forward to 2006, meet M - a North American girl who was a friend of a vague acquaintance i bumped into whilst haunting the nightclub i worked at. In the words of Lord Flashheart 'Woof'. Later on I discover her previous occupation - stripper. I have a pretty low opinion of myself when it comes to the wooing of the opposite sex, so was more than a little surprised when on next crossing paths she offered to exchange numbers. Surely a joke methinks, or maybe she wants to milk me for free guest-list at my work, like so many others (bastards, have now stopped falling for this as its just mean to get my hopes up!). Cutting to the chase, turns out she liked me, and ended up back at hers with friends one night. And here the fitting in started. I had only one thing in mind, 'fitting in' the lady in question, but there were several things i did in order to achieve this i don't think it was worth it in the end. Starting with her twattish mates, the loud coke snorting indie types (i am an indie type, must admit, but these were utter cocks), forcing myself to agree with the bollocks spouting from their unshaven, unthinking and uninteresting faces. The kind of people who talk for 3 hours about the greatness of this or that band and how much better they are than everyone... *nods off*
This as well as having to join in the aforementioned snorting of class A drugs, i'm still rather embarrassed i crumbled to easily, but i was on a mission. She was a thick as shit spoilt brat by the way, with a fierce coke habit and who's first car was a Lexus, and who's family owned three houses in North America. Twunts one might say. So suffice to say any kind of meaningful conversation, understanding or general empathy was way out. So normal me conversations were out, and had to comply to the rules stated above. the worst part, and i'm coming to a close, was the bloody dog. I hate dogs. I was savagely bitten by one as a child leaving me with much scarring, yet here it was, the devils spawn. A chihuaua. A yapping little skinny frame of brown carpet bounding about where it really wasn't wanted. Must add i'm very allergic to dogs and so here was my worst fitting in, i went home after each visit tears streaming, skin burning, and wheezing worse than Bobby George, i wouldn't normalise for 2 days at which point id go back round. Anyway got bored of that after a few months. Cats i can tolerate, if only she had a cat.

Apologies for length
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 16:31, 2 replies)
Girls
I've never really fit in with other girls.
I can't stand shopping for hours, I hate the way they seem to complain constantly about really insignificant things.
Last year I went on holiday with 7 other girls and shared a house with them for a week... by the end of it I was so fed up of their whining I wanted to shoot myself.

This is why, to try to fit in, I hang around with guys insead.
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 16:29, 4 replies)
At least I can say
that I've never taken it quite as far as these guys.
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 16:18, 7 replies)
Rave on!
Dance music. Through out my late teens and early twenties, you’d often find me bouncing about in a field somewhere in the south-west of England, dancing like a gurning loon to techno at some illegal rave.

I hate all that dance music stuff, I’ve never liked it. Who on earth cares is ‘James Brown is still alive or dead’ or if Carl Cox can play 3 record players at the same time. And as for the ‘legal’ raves…. Why on earth put on the flyer ‘30043k sound system’ – once monged, it might have well been played on a Goodmans midi hi-fi.

The only reason I went, was that loads of my mates were into it, the whole scene, drugs were a massive part of it and they’ve never really been my bag. I’m one of life’s drinkers who enjoyed the occasional smoke, but to fit in, the weak willed Mullered would partake of half a wrap of speed and look like he’s enjoying himself.

Thankfully, the group I hung about with (and still hang about with) discovered the joys of alcohol after a few years and then they discovered I was right all along, and then they fitted in with me. Indie, rock, indie, rock, indie.

Stussy t-shirt and white gloves anyone?

Mullered
Who can’t believe how easily led he was to ‘fit in’ with something he hated.
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 16:05, 1 reply)
Not sure if anyones posted this yet....
What people do to fit in on b3ta:

People endlessly reposting their stories, made even worse when they weren't funny first time and are even less funny second time.

People stealing stories from other places then trying to pass them off as their own.

And people trying to come up with amusing jokes for QOTW that are actually crap.....

With regards to 'fitting in', i'll be suprised if no one has said "Used lube" or something like that yet (or then again come up with another pointless joke/story that is supposed to be 'amusing' (cba to go look back through answers...)


Apologies for semi-ranting.


But I wont apologise for length
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 15:59, 11 replies)
First day at Uni
The Fresher's Welcome. They were handing out shots of diesel tequila and I had a number of these thrust into my hand by students who already seemed to be well on the way to permanent brain damage. I poured every one of them behind an old cast-iron radiator - not because I don't drink, but because the idea of getting blind drunk merely to have a conversation with a peer seemed utterly childish to me.

Which is perhaps why my only friend at uni was a fat Christian boy who soiled himself frequently.
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 15:59, 1 reply)
Trousers
I wasn't a very popular Afferolet, and therefore would try and fit in with the sporty kids who beat me.

Hence; Kappa cagoul - Bright yellow
Very 90's Mizuno hoodie (XXL)
And the coup de gras, Kappa trousers, bright green, with poppers down the side.

I was forced by style!
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 15:52, 1 reply)
De islands
My dad being a diplomat, I went to a number of differnt schools. In the town of Port au Prince in Jamaica, I was the only white kid at the school and I did what I had to do.

I grew dreads, I tanned to within a melanoma of my life and I loped around in an affected Rasta fashion uttering such phrases as 'Good weed, mon!' or "Aaaaiiit!'.

My nickname at that school was 'Dickhead', which I believe was a term of great respect handed down from Haile Selassie.
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 15:51, 2 replies)
My username is THATBLOKEOVERTHERE...
...and it's my moniker pretty much everywhere I go online.

Draw your own conclusions :)
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 15:51, Reply)
Berghaus jackets
when i was in school.... EVERYOONE had one,

that or Sprayway jackets.

needless to say - none of the coats ever saw the extreme weather they were designed for.

so what did i do?

Buy a Sprayway coat of course.
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 15:51, 1 reply)
I just changed my user name to...
wanksock. I should fit in better now.
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 15:37, 9 replies)
I've never fitted in
Still don't.
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 15:31, 3 replies)
Calmer chameleon...
I think a more apt question would be "What don't we do to fit in?".

I frequently had to undergo an overnight metamorphosis from colourful and be-pierced to plain and conventional for the sake of career and academic progression, as a young Janitor Sinister.

I think I'm growing old as I've realised that looking normal permanently, might work to my advantage...
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 15:31, Reply)
Re-write
I originally wrote this story up for something else a few years ago, then a few months ago I cut and paste it as an answer to a different QOTW, so sorry if it seems familiar, but it fits here much better and deserves a proper re-write to tell in all it’s full, painful glory.


I did my GCSE’s in one of those schools that has its own VIth form, so stayed on to do my A-levels there too.

People from surrounding schools that didn’t have a VIth form joined us too, so the first day back after the summer holidays meant a handful of new faces among my old familiar friends.

I was sitting in the common room, waiting for the morning bell, and in she walked in all her stunning glory*

Have you seen Ursula Andress come out of the sea in Dr No? Have you seen Cameron Diaz walk into the bank at the start of The Mask? Have you seen the opening shots of ‘Lost In Translation’?

Pah. I spit on them. Those entrances were nothing compared to this.

And, just like that, I was smitten.

Her name was Sonja, she was Swedish.

She’d previously been to the all-girls school round the corner from ours (The Virgin Mega-Store, as we oh so wittily called it)

She had a twin sister, she was single, and she lived not too far from me.

I found all this out during the lunch break where I oh so gallantly offered to show her the canteen.

Sadly, I also found out she was a devout Christian.

Was that enough to put me off?

What do you think.

And so followed a long, painful six months of doe-eyed puppy dog love where I did anything and everything I could to win her affection.

I joined The Christian Society. I spent three lunchtimes a week, for two entire terms nodding sagely and agreeing that ‘Yes, of course creationism is the only possible answer to how the world came into being. There is no evidence at all that suggests that evolution is a realistic possibility’. (all the while watching my friends play football out of the window and convincing myself that this would be worth it in the end)

I drove 60 miles after school with her to go to her friends baptism in a tiny backwards Norfolk town (and I mean backwards by Norfolk’s standards, not just normally backwards. This place was weird). Where I found myself feeling so self conscious when I was the only one who didn’t stand up to raise their hands to God and let him into my heart that I suddenly leapt out of the pew and yelled ‘Yes, yes, Yes, I feel it, I believe, I feel it’

I went to her twin sisters baptism, along with her scary parents, where the oh so young, oh so wannabe trendy evangelistic preacher tried to get down with the kids by playing The Wonderstuffs ‘Size of a Cow’ with the lyrics:

‘Don't you think it's funny that nothing's what it
seems when you're not looking forward?

Me, I'd like to think life is like a drink,

and I'm hoping that it tastes like bourbon.

You know that I've been drunk a thousand times,

and these should be the best days of my life,

Life, it's not what I thought it was.

Damn blast, look at my past,

ripping up my feet over broken glass.

Oh wow, look at me now,

I'm building up my problems to the size of a cow.’

Which he then followed up with ‘Bourbon is not the answer, drink is not the answer, God is the answer. If he’d just let God into his life his problems wouldn’t be the size of a cow, they’d be the size of, like, a mouse’
(and then played ‘Sit Down’ by James with the line ‘I hope that God exists, I hope, I pray’ and said ‘This is a man who already knows God exists, otherwise, why would he be praying?’)

And, at any point in all this did I even get a kiss?

No.

A cuddle even?

No.

I got to hold her hand.

Once.

For two minutes.

She timed it.

And did any of this cause me to give up?

Not on your life.

I didn’t even come to my senses when she threw out my copy of REM’s ‘Out Of Time’ because she didn’t like me listening to a song called ‘Losing My Religion’ (and let’s be honest, you have got to be insane to throw out that album because of that song when anyone with an ounce of sense knows that the reason to bin it is ‘Shiny Happy People’)

I did eventually snap out of it.

After numerous painful teas with her family, church visits, baptisms, awkward conversations with her friends where I bit my tongue and accepted the bible as the one true word and nodding.

After too many times of me saying I knew what she meant when she said she actually heard God speak directly to her every night before she went to bed, I finally, mercifully came to my senses when, after discussing Abrahams willingness to sacrifice Isaac she said:

‘If God asks me to sacrifice my sister tonight, I will’

You did not see me for dust.

I left a me shaped hole in her parents front door that day.
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 15:17, 12 replies)
Another not-funny one
There was this fella in my class, whose presence I thanked the Lord for since by virtue of being both very intelligent and rather weird, he was a lightning rod for the bullies that would likely otherwise have targeted weedy speccy geeks like me.

He was utterly addicted to EastEnders, but his parents (who were old enough to be his grandparents) were too hard-up to own a video recorder so he taped every episode on audio cassette. He'd even written lyrics to the theme tune, and was stupid enough to sing them one time during class.

He hero-worshipped Terry Wogan, and announced that as soon as he was of age he would change his name by deed poll. And then open a garden centre.

He was utterly terrified of the sight of blood or even the mention of it -- he once fainted during R.E. while we were discussing the crucifixion. And another time when we were watching a sex-ed video about the correct way to insert a Dutch cap (why they were showing this at an all-boys school, I have no idea).

He began to sprout facial hair quite early on, and when he was instructed by teachers to remove it, he refused. After threats of expulsion failed to change his mind the teachers backed down. The very next day, he shaved it off.

He once confessed to me that in his early teens he'd cycled to a nearby stretch of railway track, planning to throw himself under a train.

What does this have to do with the QOTW? Simply that I look back now and see how weak I was for joining in with the general piss-taking and finger-pointing (if not the actual physical bullying), even though he was a friendly enough guy and we got on pretty well. I'd go so far as to say that I was the closest he had to a friend in the whole school. And yet I still did nothing but tag along with the others when the time came to torment him some more.

Some time ago, I heard that after leaving school and spending a couple of years working in dead-end factory jobs, he had taken his own life.

/shame
(, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 15:12, 5 replies)

This question is now closed.

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