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When he took advantage of my inexperience and attempted to lay hands on me, it was clear to me that he had spent more time studying seductions than grappling, and he had more ribbons than muscle. To his credit, I will say that the spot he chose by the river was very fine. I still have an image of him bent over its waters, drooling blood from his broken nose, next to a cracked cider bottle and a very pretty willow tree.
It is tiring to deal with someone who has made an enemy of you when you do not think of them at all. But, of course, this is often why they hate you.
This has been a hard skill to learn, the forgiving of self, and it is not always easy to know when it is good and when it is indulgent. But there is not so much time in life that we should spend it being sorry.
A thousand flatterers are not worth one person who is willing to wipe your ass.
I try to remember that I am not responsible for what others do, nor should I hold them in judgment. But this is very hard for me, especially when they are being bastards.
