I remember people I had taken a strong dislike to, usually mutually, for not very solid reasons. Often, not having met them in person, but only through being on opposite sides of some poetry debate in the days of the Buffalo poetics discussion list, or in the early days of poetry blogs.
The animosity was not well founded, in most cases. Yet I still feel that I am correct in my assessment of these people. Perhaps something else they did, later on, confirmed my idea about the person. I am no longer invested in these feuds, and barely remember the issues involved.
Sometimes I was defending language poetry, or flarf. I didn't like people to attack the poetry of people I liked. I became friends with people I didn't agree with always, but I felt their judgments were honest ones. Now, as I remember it, I am beginning to feel those old passions stir.