Sometime after my father died, I started going out with a Big Brother. Martin seemed like a nice guy. We went to movies, he got me lots of things, and encouraged me to start reading adult-sized novels and write stories. He was tough on me, though. If I became upset at something, or was scared to try something, he would put me down, saying things like "are you a mouse or a man?" When I would start to cry, he would just become angrier. Eventually I couldn't take it anymore, his abuse was occurring nearly every time we went out, and I refused to see him again.
A few days ago, I was grocery shopping with Mom, and we ran into him. I hate having to interact with people from my past; I like to keep them there. I shook his hand, politely chatting with him. He was all reminiscent about our model building projects. I don't know if he remembered hurting me. I can never tell with this sort of thing. The encounter rattled me a little.