In fourth grade, there was a boy, Chris, who had a new girlfriend each week. He and I had been friends for quite a while, and I soon became his "girlfriend." My parents didn't know, and still don't know. One day, I was getting unreasonably irritated by him, and told my parents of my irritation. My dad, who always seemed to think that all boys like roughhousing, took it upon himself to grab Chris's shirt and threaten him the next morning. Daddy thought he was just being funny, but Chris was really scared. Chris came to school crying. To my eternal shame, I gloated, since I was still irritated. After a few minutes, though, I felt bad. I always think about this when I feel like rubbing something in. It almost always reminds me that I'm doing something bad.
I don't remember if I ever apologized to him. He forgave me anyway, because he and I remained friends until he moved away. I wish I knew how to contact him now, though, and actually apologize.
