Off The Record

My Perfect Revenge To The Man Who Asked Me Out And Didn’t Realize I Was the ‘Fat Girl’ He Bullied in High School

Published on May 9, 2024

Jen relives her childhood trauma when she matches on a dating service with her high school bully. She nevertheless goes on the date in an attempt to get retribution for the way she was handled.

When the date doesn’t work out and Jen doesn’t get what she was hoping for, she arranges another meeting.

My date entered through the open door while I pretended to be engrossed in my phone conversation at the bar. It was finally time for Justin and I to meet, after we connected on a dating app.

Nevertheless, Justin didn’t recall that I had previously met.

I felt the old spark of recognition shoot through me as he stepped in, but all I could see of his face was a casual scan of a man searching for someone who might have been anyone but the girl he had tormented. His smile, well-honed and confident, came as he got closer.

I fortified myself, reminded my pounding heart of its function for the evening—that of a new lady seeking retribution.

He slid into the seat next to me and murmured, “Hey, Jen,” not realizing the tempest he was entering. “I hope I’m not too late?”

“Not at all,” I answered in a calm, lovely voice. “I was simply taking in the atmosphere here. Since my last visit, there have been changes to this location.”

I was positive Justin wouldn’t recognize me when we matched on the app. My weight, my sense of style, and even my hair had all radically changed since high school.

I had changed completely.

“Yes, there’s a decent crowd tonight,” Justin waved to a bartender while nodding. “Can I get you a drink now?”

I studied him carefully; not much had changed since I’d last seen him. It had been our high school graduation, and then there had been a field party.

Justin had hardly given me a look. It did not occur to him that I was the one who had been drawn to him.

Not now, but then.

I wasn’t interested in Justin when we matched, but after talking to my sister, we both agreed that screwing about with Justin would somehow be therapeutic.

“Yes, please, a gin and tonic,” I responded, keeping an eye out for any indication of familiarity on his face. None was present. As soon as he saw me, it was obvious—I was just another date. Just one more woman he had fallen in love with.

I nodded while he talked about his work and recent travels, but my thoughts were always focused on the plan that was taking shape around us. The bar was fast getting busy.

As Justin went on, I started to nod off and reminisce about my time in high school.

Like the one occasion when my footsteps seemed to reverberate louder than normal in the deserted high school corridor, sending a metallic cold through the lockers.

I tried to blend in by clenching my books securely to my chest and lowering my gaze. That stinging reminder of my everyday struggle, Justin’s scathing laughter from earlier in the day, still hurt in my recollection.

Around the corner, I heard other students’ voices, carefree and lighthearted, muted. I made my way to the bathroom, a makeshift haven where I could collect myself away from curious onlookers and sharp tongues.

I had trouble dining at the cafeteria. They would all chuckle as they looked at me.

When I opened the bathroom door, I was met by the well-known smell of industrial cleanser tinged with a faint floral air freshener perfume. I quickly made sure the restrooms were vacant and took a moment to lean against the cool tile wall and slowly exhale.

Then the tears started to flow, softly at first, then so strongly I couldn’t hold them back. Not only had Justin mistreated me verbally, but my spirit was being steadily crushed day by day.

Justin pulled me back to the present when he asked if I wanted to get something to eat from the several food stalls outside the bar after our drink. I never would have when I was younger, but that was me today.

Justin started badgering the waitress as he asked for the bill.

He said to her, “I need you to hurry up.” “You’re just wasting my time; we have somewhere to be. Could you work any more slowly?”

She wiped away her tears and picked up the bill.

“That reminded me of my ex-girlfriend,” he continued, turning to face me. “Her eyes would well up whenever I said anything.”

I told Justin that I had to go to bed because I had a headache, and that was how the evening ended.

That I wasn’t able to exact my retribution disappointed me.

I decided to try again at getting even with Justin when I got home and sat in bed with my laptop. I went on Facebook and made an event, inviting all of our high school classmates to join.

I made the pub that I had just left the venue for our meeting the reunion’s location. Many of my former classmates expressed their intention to attend when the event was formed; there were a lot of shares, and by the following morning, more people had confirmed their attendance.

I took my time getting ready on the day of the reunion. This was an important time. I wanted everyone to realize that I was the greatest version of myself and that I had self-assurance.

I walked right to the bartender there and gave him his name and phone number, asking that the bill be delivered to Justin at the end of the night.

After some while, Justin approached me and grinned widely.

He slurped his drink and said, “You seem different, have we met before?”

He wasn’t even civil enough to recall me from last week’s cocktails.

I nearly laughed at the irony of what he said, but I controlled myself.

“I often receive that,” I sidestepped. “Maybe I just have one of those faces.”

Shrugging his shoulders and turning to motion to the bartender for another round, Justin laughed.

I said, “But you do know me.” “You really haven’t changed, have you, Justin?”

“What do you mean?”

With every syllable, my resolve grew stronger. “Just that you’ve always had this way of making people feel less,” I continued. “Like how you talk to the waitress, or how you joked about your ex the other night.”

When Justin discovered who I was, his expression tightened, but I was still just the lady from the dating service, not the one he had previously bullied.

“What? Whoa! Jen!” He said, his expression twisted.

“Do you remember Jennifer from high school?” In the hopes that someone would hear me out, I inquired out loud. “The girl you tortured. The girl you ensured understood how unique she was from everyone else. that she didn’t meet your harsh requirements.”

His eyes widened and his face turned pale as the understanding set in, bridging the past and present.

I said, “I’m that Jennifer.” “And tonight, I wanted you to see exactly who I have become, despite your best efforts to break me down.”

Justin got to his feet, opening and closing his mouth, trying to think of something to say, but coming up empty. With their eyes fixated on us, our classmates’ expressions around us varied from horror to support.

“I hope one day you’ll understand the weight of your words, how deeply they can cut,” I said.