He Who Shall Not Be Named strikes again

I ran into He Who Shall Not Be Named yesterday. I'm realizing the whole 'love your enemies' thing that seems to work for Jesus, isn't working for me. We chatted briefly. He asked about my foreign service stuff. I told him that I felt good about my performance, but it wasn't good enough. And he said "well, I couldn't picture you in Mongolia, anyway." I don't think he noticed the anger and pain flash in my eyes. I am generally good at masking such things. I wanted to punch him, but as we were in a house of worship, I couldn't.

Who is he to presume to know my desires and abilities better than I do? Why do I let his words cut me to the quick?

I thought that despite the pain he has put me through I could rise above it, that I could be better and kinder than he is, that I could at least be cordial on the rare occassions that we see each other. I am realizing that I can't. I have still ceded him the power to hurt me and I am not quite sure how to take it back. Intellectually, I can see that he is not someone who should matter in my life, that he is an unfortunate episode, a learning experience, and that the epic saga of him becomes more amusing, absurd, outrageous, with each passing day. But my stomach still jumps a bit when I see him. I'm sure he isn't rehashing our maybe five minute long conversation.

We are not on good terms and false pleasantries ring hollow. He either needs to be out of my life completely or we need to have it out. I am steeling myself up to tell him so the next time we run into each other - church next week? I can't fake a friendliness that I don't feel. . . it doesn't even make me feel superior anymore.