I feel totally inferior now *lol*
I tried to kick my husband in the face two or three weeks ago and threw a number of temper tantrums that he said scared him.
When I was in the clinic for the first time, there were these two girls who I hated because they were so false and crawled up each other's ass constantly in an ego boosting symbiosis. It was disgusting to witness these superficial bitches. So, one time in drama therapy they were playing themselfs (our task was to play a type of person we hate - talk about hypocrisy) and I missed the last opportunity to get off stage gracefully. I said, that I was completely lost in my character when I went and banged their heads together. I wasn't. I was me and it was delightful. Seriously. I don't regret anything.
I confessed to the therapist later, of course, but luckily she had to strain to stay professional towards these two girls herself, so I didn't get into trouble.
I highschool I was questioning my sexuality, and to test if I really don't like boys and will die a virgin because I'm too shy to ever flirt with a girl, I picked out this easy target. He wasn't utterly disgusting and liked to read, but he didn't have any friends and - this was my merciless teenage judgement - wasn't ever going to get laid. So, I tried to wrap him around my finger with charms as graceful as the advances of a drunk, epileptic elephant. He didn't even know what hit him.
After having borrowed (and not read) some books from him (I'm not into SciFi) I decided to do a final check. I threw a party to celebrate my 17th birthday on the first day of the summer holidays. The whole thing was just an excuse to get drunk (my first and last time) and be free to behave like an idiot without consequences. I flashed my tits, drank out of a deco bowl full of real ivy leafs, stones and rotting water, sat on the poor chap's lap, stuck my finger up his nose and later hid under the table. When he left he said something about calling me the next day. I fled to my room every time the phone rang for the next few weeks; luckily he didn't call.
After the holidays he tried to talk to me but I fled and to hide my shame I started a bullying campaign together with the three other outcasts I hung out with. It wasn't a real campaign, though, because we tried to avoid the guy as much as possible, and we were hardly to be taken seriously.
I felt bad for this for quite some time, until I realised... he hadn't called me! So, at least to the outside observer my behaviour had to appear as righteous indignation. What a relief.
That's it, I think. I'm tame.