Growing up there was a kid in my neighborhood who was more than a little strange.
He apparently had a crush on me, but I was really too stupid and young to understand. He began by 'doorbell ditching' a mixed tape with that I (remember - too stupid and young) thought was unrelated to the doorbell ring and threw away. Now, that's not strange, but then it progressively got worse as he invited me to a pool party wherein I was unknowingly the only guest. He proceeded to bring me to his room to show me his collection of My Little Pony dolls, requesting that we hold one together. I left quickly, not knowing what to make of him. He then spread a rumor that we had been intimate that day (whatever a child's notion of that is..) - I was upset and decided to stop being kind.
Days later he watched with his eerie wide eyed stare as I played basketball and interrupted to dare me to a play fight. This was a bit scary because I'd never been in a fight, I was a girl and he was a boy and larger than me. I firmly refused and turned to go home. He immediately swung me around and I got a slap square in the face. After a second to recover I slapped him back and left in a fury. Later the same day there was a ring at the doorbell and one of my parents (can't remember) answered. There was the boy, weeping and burbling, with his grandfather looking for answers. I don't remember being questioned or punished for the incident. Though it was easy to see the boy was odd.
I did not want cross paths with him again.
Unfortunately this was impossible as we walked to the same grade school. Day after day he would follow me home, wordlessly throwing little rocks at my heals and pausing occasionally to pick up more from the road. It stung, but I was very hard-headed and refused to speak to him, to show any reaction. One afternoon there was one particular rock that stung more than usual. I crouched quickly and grabbed my ankle. There on my white sock was a dot of red. That was it. I was finished with him.
I rushed toward him and linked my cupped hands with his. His reserves of little pebbles jabbed us both and I squeezed as hard as I could.
I don't recall if I'd said anything to him, but I know my sentiment was clear.
"Please stop." He whispered,"You're hurting me."
There was no more rock-throwing. We never spoke or interacted again.
Fast-forward twenty years. He finds me on Myspace. He finds me on Facebook. Sends me messages, wanting to 'catch up' and see 'what I'm doing these days.' Catch up?! On what?! Him being completely bizarre and me avoiding him as much as possible? What sort of made-up friendship does he think we had? Of the handful of encounters we had, all were brief and creepy.
Of course, these requests have been deleted without an answer.