Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 16x08: Don't Be Kind to a Social Pariah

Episode Date: February 23, 2026

Send your stories to [e-mail].    Stories in this episode: I Walked Into a Cult, or a Mafia Meeting, or Drug Ring | BrodyMK64 (0:39)A Banana Saved My Life | Kay_Long (7:29) Abandoned Club | Impossible_Donut_229 (14:50) Had a Stalker for 5 months | That_girl_Mary_ (18:57) Watcher in the Woods | pizzazansari (23:58) Weird Encounter on a Rural Dead-end Road | eric-710 (30:32) Creepy Dollar Tree Man | Poppy (36:00) Don’t be Kind to a Social Pariah | j (40:14) Grindr Date | hyperballad83 (43:59) Extended Patreon Content: The Last Train | AnonymousLiving With My Father | Hello Kitty GirlSketchy Bus Driver | ylfasætaBeach Stalker | EssaySaved by Stella | SanguinaireDue to periodic changes in ad placement, time stamps are estimates and are not always accurate.Want Bonus Weekly Stories? Hate Ads? Join our Patreon for only $5 a month for over 100 hours of bonus content, and it's all ad-free!Join the Discord:https://discord.gg/84WXQud4gEFollow:- Twitch - https://twitch.tv/crypticcounty- Website - https://letsnotmeetpodcast.com/- Patreon - https://patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast- Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsnotmeetcast/Head tomood.com, browse by mood, and find what fits you best. And don’t forget to use promo code MEET at checkout to save 20% off your first order.Get 20% off your DeleteMe plan when you go toJoindeleteme.com/notmeet and use promo code NOTMEET at checkout.All of the stories you've heard this week were narrated and produced with the permission of their respective authors. Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast is not associated with Reddit or any other message boards online.

This podcast contains adult language and content. Listener discretion is advised. If you have a story to share, send it to let's not meet stories at gmail.com. I'm a Chicago Cubs fan, but I've lived in the Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania area, my entire life. Earlier this season, when the pirates were in Chicago, I decided to go to a sports bar to watch the game. I specifically went to this one that I had driven by a bunch of times, but I had never given a try. It was a sports bar that I can't name on the podcast. I showed up about five to ten minutes before the first pitch in my cubs gear and walked in. I saw that a woman was tending the bar and an older

couple were sitting at the end of the bar. They both stared at me as I came in, as if I were an alien, which I figured was because I was wearing the opposite team's gear. I was given no greeting or anything, but I sat down and just waited for the game to start. I realized that the old couple and the bartender were deep in conversation and they were fixated on each other. After waiting a few minutes, I walked up to the bar to try to order food. There were no menus, napkins, salt, pepper, or anything else like that on the table, nothing indicating that food was served there. As I started talking to the bartender, I noticed there were no bottles, taps, or alcohol behind the bar either.

It was just a bunch of random Pittsburgh sports memorabilia. Very random things at that. Nothing really followed the theme. There were a bunch of signs saying things like, if you're easily offended, get out. When I was talking to the bartender, the older couple was just staring at me blankly. The bartender told me that she'd be right back with the menu.

and then she was in the backroom for a good 10 minutes or so before returning with the menu, which I found really odd, but I placed an order anyway. I ended up ordering the slice of pizza and a wing and fry basket combo. It was ridiculously cheap. I paid six bucks for all of it.

The pizza slice was massive, and there were a dozen huge wings, and the basket of fries was giant. If I had ordered this anywhere else, it would have cost $20 or more. The food was ready in just a few minutes, and it was brought to me by the bartender. What was weird was that she went into the kitchen,

or what I presumed was the kitchen, and seemingly cooked it herself. I managed to catch a glimpse of this quote-unquote kitchen when she opened the door. It was almost empty. There weren't any cooks, no sounds from the ovens or friars or anything. the wings were really, really good, though.

As were the fries. Easily the best wings and fries I've ever had. The pizza was immaculate as well. All of it was just almost too good. As soon as I got my food, more people started coming in. Some very strange individuals. I was watching the game at this point, but frequently caught myself side-eyeing and observing what was going on around me.

I was at the table closest to the door right next to the biggest TV, but everyone else who came in sat at the very end of the bar, as far away from me as possible. The people who came in, the older couple, and the bartender were talking non-stop, and they were talking very quietly. I couldn't make out what they were saying, though. They were talking so quietly that they looked like statues.

They never changed their facial expressions, Not even when they were talking. All of them just had completely straight faces, and nobody ever ordered anything. As if that wasn't already weird enough, I noticed some other strange actions as well. For example, not one person was wearing any sort of Pittsburgh sports gear. Everyone was wearing the most bland, boring outfits imaginable. It was a 2 p.m. game on a Saturday. There should have been plenty of Pirates fans watching the game and getting drunk.

with their buddies, but that wasn't happening at all. When the pirates scored or did anything good, there wasn't a reaction from anyone. No cheers, no groans. It was like the game wasn't on. Yet they were all glued to the screens watching while having these hushed conversations with the bartender. The man from the old couple was the strangest.

Every five minutes or so, he would walk over to the video slot machine right by my table and put $20 in. to it. He would bet it all at once, losing every single time. He did this for about an hour and a half. Towards the end of the game, he proceeded to walk over to the Touch Tunes machine, put in a $20 bill, and then put on the strangest, most vintage-sounding dance music that I'd ever heard. Just imagine what you might hear on a random ice cream social playlist from the 1930s. He picked the most underground songs possible.

For whatever reason, the audio at this place was set up so that Touch Tunes took over the TV audio as well, so once the music was playing, I could no longer hear the game. Perhaps this was done in a way to drive me out of there. Finally, the game ended, but the Touch Tunes playlist was still in full effect. It had been about three hours since I placed my order, but the bartender never came to check in on me, nor offered to give me my check. I finally went up to her to ask her for the check myself and she looked a bit confused

before giving me the check she went over to the group of five or six people sitting at the bar said something to them and they all proceeded to get up and walk out the back door together she then went back into the kitchen came out a few minutes later with my check and I paid and then left I was already kind of uneasy

and started feeling as if something were off and when I left, one of the people at the end of the bar was right outside the door. They tried to strike up a conversation with me about Chicago, but I just mumbled a vague answer, got in my car, and got out of there. I'm really not sure what was going on there. It was just so odd. Did I walk in on a cult? A genuine mafia meeting?

Maybe a drug ring? Before I begin, I should let you know that this is my account of a school shooting. at a high school that occurred. There are definitely better accounts of everything that went down, but I feel the need to share this so that I can heal. It was just a normal Thursday, though I had woken up later than I normally do. I had a test that I was prepared for that day,

as it was my favorite class. Since I felt that I was going to be late, I tried to rush out the door at my usual time at about 7.15 in the morning. I was halfway out the door when my dad called me, me back into the kitchen. He asked me if I had eaten anything for breakfast, which was something that I was used to skipping since I usually didn't eat until after my first class. I tried to play it off that I did, but he was skeptical. He told me to eat something before I left, so I reached for a banana.

He waited for me to finish eating it before telling me to have a good day. I then got into my car, running behind schedule and rushed lawfully and safely to school. When I pulled into the school parking lot at about 726 or so, I drove around the back to my usual spot. Since I was a senior, I had a permit to park in a reserved parking space. So I parked my car, grabbed my stuff, and began heading toward the gates of the school.

That was when I saw a huge crowd of other students running away from the campus. I instantly knew something had happened, so I jumped back into my car and drove away. I got caught in bad traffic as I was heading out since traffic was common around the school. It was the middle of a residential neighborhood. Lots of kids got dropped off at the front. At this point, I was shaking with uncertainty.

I don't recall exactly what was going through my head other than how am I going to let my parents know that I'm okay. I didn't have a phone and I had no way to communicate with them. I then spotted a familiar face. It was one of my teachers. I pulled up to her to ask her what was happening, and she yelled. You need to get out of here. There's a shooter on campus.

Just go. So I pulled into traffic along with many others who were trying to funnel out of the area. At the same time, dozens of cops flew down this narrow lane that was lined with lots of panicking parents and homeowners who were watching everything unfold. I swear I can still hear those blaring sirens ring. in my ear as I'm writing this. I was worried about my friends since most of them

had a first period class. I hoped that all of them were okay and safe since they were in class. I hope they weren't hurt. As I pulled out of traffic, time slowed for me. I almost felt lost. When things stopped being such a big blur,

I started to head home, avoiding the main roads as I knew they would be flooded with emergency response personnel. When I got to the intersection to turn onto my street, while I was waiting for the light to turn, I saw police vehicles and fire trucks had blocked the road leading to my home. I had to turn right on that road, and every couple of seconds, I had to pull to the side to clear the way for emergency vehicles. Eventually, I pulled around to the other side of the road to try and get to my house,

but as I arrived at the other intersection of my house, the road was yet again blocked off, so I franticated. thought of my options since there was no other route for me to take to get home. I decided to then head to my mom's office on the other side of town just to get myself somewhere safe. When I got there, I bolted inside and tried to find her, but she wasn't there yet since she was dropping my brother off at school, which was a different one than mine. I then burst into her desk space and grabbed the phone to dial my parents. I don't remember much after I made the calls to both of them. I just remember getting water and food and sitting in the office break room watching the news as the event continued to unfold. I was glued to the TV looking for any sign of my friends since I figured if I saw them

on TV that would probably mean they were okay. After my mom arrived at her office, she took me home since our road reopened. On the way, she explained that my brother was home since school was on lockdown and he couldn't get into his classroom. So he had to get back in the car and go home. Once I got home, I ran in my dad's arms and I spent the rest of the day watching the news as the information was being shared. The hardest thing for me to come to terms with was that I knew the shooter. He was a friend of a friend. Later I found that a freshman girl whom I had met the day before had died. There was a second victim as well, and on the next day, the third casualty that was revealed was that of the shooter himself.

I couldn't believe that this happened. If I had been on time for school that day, I would have been at risk. I genuinely believe it was the banana that saved me because I would have been in the quad area at the time all of this went down. There are articles on the events of what happened, events that I'm thankful I did not endure.

None of my other friends were caught in the chaos, and they were all safe as well. While the shooting only lasted 16 seconds, according reports, everyone who was at the high school that morning will forever remember that day. I used to have no idea what I was picking when it came to cannabis. You walk into a place, you see a bunch of wild strain names, and just kind of hope that you chose correctly.

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I used to regularly visit my grandma's house with my dad. My cousins were almost always there as well, and we used to play together when I was little in that smaller town, which was often referred to as a village. When my cousins and I went to play at the park, there was always this abandoned club nearby. It used to be popular back in the day, but all of the windows were broken and almost everything was vandalized with graffiti everywhere. I was also curious about what was inside, but I had never had the guts to ask my cousins to go in there. Even during the day, something about this club felt so off.

I don't even know why, maybe because it was surrounded by trees and had this weird, dark vibe. When I was around 14, I had a friend who was in the same grade as me, but he had moved to another country. He would visit every summer, and every time he came back, he would call me up. One summer, we were really bored, and the idea came up that we should finally go check out that abandoned club. He was braver than I was, so he said that. that he would go in first because there was no way I'd have the balls

to go in first myself. We rode our bikes over there and we got there at around 10 p.m. It was pitch dark with maybe two or three lamp posts spaced far apart so the lighting in the area was really dim.

When we stood in front of the club it felt even eerier than usual so it took us about 20 minutes to gather the courage to go in. Finally, we did. We climbed over the broken glass at the door and squeezed through. Once we were inside, we turned on our phone flashlights. The place was a complete mess.

There were garbage bags all over the walls and needles on the ground, which was honestly really scary to see at such a young age. The whole interior was just weird. It was a pretty big space with odd architecture and paths that led around in circles for no reason. My friends and I were scared We tried to stay as quiet as possible So that we wouldn't wake whatever might have been living in there

Then as I was staring at the bar counter For no longer than five seconds My friend disappeared My heart dropped I did a full 360 with the flashlight But he was definitely gone I yelled his name And then something jumped out from behind me

It was him laughing so hard while I was having a heart attack. I was mad but relieved. However, while he was laughing, I suddenly heard another laugh, one that wasn't his. I had actually heard it first, but I didn't fully register the other laugh

until it clicked, and I realized that the laugh wasn't supposed to be there. I turned my flashlight toward the sound, and there was this guy. He was a tall, skinny guy and he had long, messy hair. I couldn't see his face properly. I screamed and bolted out of there with my friend. We jumped on our bikes and beddled so hard back to my grandma's house.

That was seriously one of the scariest things I've ever experienced. Later that night, when we finally talked about it, we wondered, how did we not hear him? It was dead silent in there, and every step that we took was so loud. How the hell did he get so close? to us without making a sound. The fact that he was laughing made it so much creepier.

To the laughing person in the dark abandoned club, let's not meet. I was 19 when this happened, working closing shifts at the Sam's Club in North Carolina. I worked about a seven-minute drive from my mom's house

and I genuinely loved my coworkers. We were all close and I trusted them to have my back. This happened right after a big holiday sales event. It was the kind where the store was packed and everything was chaos. I was in the clothing section late at night, holding piles of clothes left behind on the tables

when I noticed a man watching me out of the corner of my eye. I assumed he needed help, so I asked, Is there anything I can help you with? He answered in a nervous, high-pitched voice, asking for a different size. I helped him, but afterward, he started complimenting me. He told me that I was pretty. I was exhausted, so I didn't think anything of this at the time. I assumed he was harmless.

But as the store was closing, he asked for my Snapchat. I gave it to him, but I was never planning on actually having a conversation with him. After we closed and cleared the store, I met up with my closest co-worker, whom I'll call Barbie. I casually mentioned the guy and told her his name was Kevin. Barbie's face dropped when I told her this, and she asked to see the Snapchat. The moment I pulled it up, she went quiet,

and called over her manager, whom we trusted. Then, suddenly, I was being asked all kinds of questions, what he looked like, what he said, and whether he was alone. Then they told me who Kevin really was. He was a former employee who had been fired after multiple incidents. He had stalked a girl who worked there, showed up to bother her, and used the posted schedules in the break room

to track when she worked. Things escalated badly enough to the point that he was eventually terminated. And now, apparently, I was his next target. That night, my manager and Barbie walked me to my car. While we were standing in my car, I got a Snapchat message from Kevin.

I told them about it, and I opened the message. message. He was asking if I lived nearby, and he wanted to know if I could hang out. Barbie told me exactly what to say. She told me to reply and say that I didn't live alone and had roommates. When he asked if he could come over, I said no, and I blocked him as soon as I got home. Out of curiosity, I looked him up on Facebook. He had a wife and kids, a family. I considered warning his wife, but I was told the woman before me had tried, but his wife didn't believe her. The next day at work, Barbie called me over the walkie-talkie and told me to go to the back of the

store. Kevin is here, she warned. He was asking for me by my name. This became routine. Almost every shift he would come in asking where I was. So I hid in the break room, the stock room, or wherever I could. Eventually, most of my coworkers knew what was happening and helped without question. One day, Barbie didn't see him come into the store, and by the time I spotted him, I saw Barbie waving me down. She warned me over the walkie, so I ran to the jewelry department, where an older coworker was working. I barely had time to whisper, Kevin's here. And luckily, she understood immediately. He walked up and asked if the girl from clothing was working that day. My coworker told him no, but he lingered and circled the counter, pretending to look at jewelry.

I crouched behind the counter, pretending to search for something, just waiting for him to go away. He left eventually, but I stayed hidden for over an hour just to be sure. What scared me the most was being outside of work. Some nights after closing, we'd see a minivan idling in the parking lot with its lights off. It wouldn't leave until I walked to my car. I never proved it was him, but the timing was always suspicious. After five months, he slowly stopped appearing at the store, so there were no more questions, no more hiding, no more watching over my shoulder.

I never filed a restraining order. I was young, overwhelmed, and just trying to survive every day. everything else in my life at the time. But to Kevin, who turned my workplace into a hiding place and made my co-workers protect me for months, if you somehow hear this, I hope you've gotten some help. This happened after I dropped a friend off after a late night of watching films at my flat. The route to and from her home back to mine was straightforward. However, on this evening, there was roadwork happening, which cut off nearly all of the routes back to my place. I must have circled the only open round about at least ten times before deciding to take

an exit that I knew eventually connected to my town. This exit went through an isolated and rural area, which meant my phone's network and data stopped working. I had grown up not far from there, and had driven through it before during the day, so I felt up to task. This area was home to a large expanse of woodlands. I was aware these woods had developed a reputation for being dangerous after dark, initially due to drug deals. But in the last few years, due to a series of stabbings that had gone unresolved,

they're not the kind of woods anyone would want to camp in overnight or spend time in. I wasn't sure if I had a sharp turn or an exit coming up, so I was driving very slowly down the road that ran alongside the woods. I had only been going for about a minute until something hit my car. Now, I didn't hit anything or drive over anything, so I wasn't sure what this could have been. But something seemed to have struck my car while it was moving. So I stopped the car immediately and pulled over to the side of the road.

I debated getting out to check the damage, but I chickened out. It was past 2 a.m. These were some dense woods, and I liked horror movies too much to be so silly as to get out of my car. So staying inside of the car, I adjusted the side mirrors to check for damage, and fortunately, I had parked under streetlights, allowing me to see fairly well.

For my insurance, I needed to know what damage was there and potentially take a picture. Oddly, there was a screwdriver on the ground just a few feet behind my car, right where I had heard the clang. It was sitting out in the middle of the road. I didn't have time to take a photo of it, because something caught my eye on the other side of the road in the woods. The street lights on the other side of the road lit up a few feet into the woods, and under that yellow light something moved. I'm not sure if it moved or turned around, but that was when I first noticed him.

In the woods, just a foot or so back from the road, there was a man. I could see his details and the streetlights, and I remember it so clearly because it was rare to see another person at that time of night in such a rural and isolated area. He had his back to me. He was about mid-height,

and he was wearing a black leather jacket and dark blue jeans. From the skin he had exposed, not that there was a lot, I noticed that he had very pale white skin and reddish hair. He was standing still and very upright. His hands were by his sides, unclinching and then clenching, but he kept his back to me the entire time. His head was positioned like he was looking straight ahead into the woods, but it was pitch black around him from where I was sitting.

There were no other cars parked or even driving by on this road at that time. Besides the man and me in the car, the road in the rest of the woods looked empty. Before he could turn around or potentially throw anything else, I sped out of their side mirror is askew. Then I checked my car in the morning. I did have a scratch in the paintwork as well as, was a slow leak in the tire. But frankly,

that had been the last thing on my mind when I got home that night. I wonder what would have happened if I had gotten out of my car to examine what the damage was. I can't rationalize why anyone would be standing out in those woods at 2 a.m.

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at my grandparents' home when this occurred. They had both recently passed away and my family was there to help clean up the house. It was located near the end of a dirt road that ended with a little lake. There was rarely any traffic down the road except occasionally during the day when people went there to kayak or swim in the lake.

The house had no running water because the pipes froze during the winter when nobody was there. But there was a little building about 200 to 300 meters away by the lake shore that had public restrooms and showers. It was unlocked 24-7, so we had been using this facility

as our place to shower and use the toilet. One late Sunday night, Just past midnight, after a week of avoiding the gross bathrooms, I decided to take a shower and clean up before I went to bed. So I grabbed a towel and a flashlight and began walking down there. Keep in mind, without a flashlight, it was absolutely pitch black out there. You couldn't see anything. This means that anybody who has a light is very visible from basically all sides.

As I was walking initially, everything seemed pretty chill, and I was just enjoying the peaceful walk. But then suddenly, toward the end of the road, I heard a car's engine start, and I saw the lights flick on. The vehicle was facing away from me, so I only saw the tail lights. I immediately thought, what's going on? Why are there people down here at this hour? Remember, this was pretty jarring to see,

since, as I mentioned, it was rare to see anybody parking down there unless they were down there for daytime lake activities. But even then, it was rare. So I was already creeped out. The car then did a three-point turn and started coming up the road towards me. It was an older model Chrysler 300 that looked very beat up. I had never seen that vehicle out there before, which also struck me as weird since the lake was the kind of place

that only locals used, so it was easy to catch on to which cars were around there. Since it was pitch black, I couldn't see inside the car. It drove past me at a very slow speed. I breathed a sigh of relief as it appeared to start to leave

toward the main road, and at this point, I was almost at the dirt path where the bathrooms were, and I could see the light from the building. There's a small light there that's always on. Well, just as I was about to go, in, I turned around and I saw that the car was doing another three-point turn and coming back

towards me. This freaked me out. I remember thinking, what is going on? So I then turned my flashlight off and ran towards the bathroom area as the car was making its way back. Instead of going inside, I ducked behind this storage shed to hide. The car passed the bathrooms, but it immediately stopped and turned around again so that the headlights were facing my direction. Everything then went silent, and they killed the lights. I was tempted to go into the building and proceed with my bathroom business, but they would have seen me walking since the building still had light. I would have felt unsafe coming out of the bathroom knowing I'd still be illuminated for them to see,

especially since they were pacing me and I had no idea what they were up to. As I was still hiding behind this shed, I heard some doors opening and closing on the car. This was followed by the sound of a voice, but it was faint. I also saw the light from a headlamp or a flashlight over by the car. I heard someone walking around. I was so terrified. I thought I was going to get kidnapped or something

because I was alone in the middle of nowhere with some weirdo in a beat-up car seemingly looking for me. I wanted to run back toward the house, But I couldn't. The car was right in front of my hiding spot. I didn't want this person to know where I was. After about 25 minutes of sitting there, I stopped hearing the noises. But the car was still there. So I decided to bushwhack through the forest to cut back to the house and avoid the car.

I eventually made it safe back to the house and I never saw the car again. My conclusion is that whoever this was must have been doing something illegal, and they saw me coming up with my flashlight. So they got out of there because they thought I was possibly a cop coming to investigate or something. Maybe when they realized I was just some random kid, they decided to come back

and keep doing whatever illegal thing they were doing. This seems like the likely explanation, but I'm glad I didn't have to find out for sure since it was a very creepy situation. Here in the States, we have a discount store called the dollar tree. My daughter used to love going there, just to have a look around. We went there one afternoon back in 2006. We were just looking around, leisurely enjoying our time together. At that time, she was about 10 years old, so I would allow her to look at things that she

wanted in one aisle as I looked around at items at the end cap of that aisle. Or I'd be in the next aisle over. Well, every few minutes, I'd go over to the aisle she was in to check on her and see if she wanted to move on to something else. During this trip, I suddenly noticed a tall man, kind of hanging out around where we were browsing. He didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular. Honestly, he didn't seem to be looking at anything at all. It was more like he was just waiting for something. And it kind of just set my senses off. His presence gave me a strange vibe,

so I went directly to where my daughter was and I stayed right next to her, keeping my hand firmly on her. My daughter could tell that something was off, so she looked at me quizzically. But she didn't say anything or question me verbally. I tried changing aisles, but staying in the same area.

Even so within seconds, he would be right next to us, in whichever new aisle we were in. I quietly told my daughter not to ask questions and told her to follow me no matter what I did or where I went. Surprisingly, she did exactly that

despite typically being full of questions about literally everything. I decided I would cross the store to the far corner in the opposite direction, and you guessed it, within a minute he was right behind us. So, I then immediately went to

another far off part of the store, and within another minute, he was right behind us again. I did this about four or five different times, and he ended up exactly where we were every time. He followed us to the stationary, the grocery area, the makeup aisle, everywhere. I was very nervous, but I was also young, and I thought about telling an employee but decided I didn't want to cause a scene. At some point I told my daughter the basics of what was going on and I told her under no circumstances was she to leave my side or let go of me. I was so freaked out,

so I just decided that we would check out and come back another day. Then, as soon as we got in the line to check out, the man got in line at the register next to me. It seemed as though it was because that line had roughly the same number of people, and perhaps he wanted to leave the store as we were leaving. The second we finished checking out, I headed straight for the door, and I told my daughter to take my hand and not let go no matter what. Again, she did exactly what I said. I then told her that once we got to the car, she needed to get in right away and lock the door. While she did that,

I looked back, and the man was coming up right behind us. Luckily, by the time I got into the car, He wasn't close enough to reach us, as we had walked very quickly. We lived right down the street from the store, but I took every scenic route home to make sure that I wasn't being followed. I don't know what his intentions were, but they definitely felt sinister. To this day, my daughter brings this story up now and then, and it's been almost 20 years since this happened. I still get sick to my stomach when I think about it. I'm not sure what he was up to or what he wanted from us, but I hope to. to never be in this situation again.

So to the creepy dollar tree guy, let's not meet again. I met him in high school. At first, he was harmless. We talked for a couple of weeks, but I quickly realized something fell off. He quickly inserted himself into my social circle, talking to my friends,

former friends, and anyone who would listen to him, spreading a false narrative about me. If I didn't give him attention, he would become verbally abusive. If I tried to set boundaries, he punished me for it. We lived in the same neighborhood and went to the same school, so avoiding him was nearly impossible.

Over time, his attachment grew more intense and more unstable. I thought that this attachment would change after high school, but it stayed the same. He even followed me home once after being kicked out by his mother. One night after my friend sent him a straightforward message telling him to stop trauma dumping, he responded by sending messages with images of fresh self-harm. I was disgusted by him and I tried to cut him off. In response to having me attempt to cut him off,

he joined an app called Yubo, where he met a young girl. He was claiming he was 17 even though he was older and he proceeded to give the girl an STD. After that, he began trying to isolate me. He would lure me into play. where no one else was around. On more than one occasion, he behaved inappropriately

and tried to coerce me into sexual situations. I repeatedly said no, clearly and explicitly, but it didn't matter. There was a time when we spent an entire day together running errands.

Toward the end, he began acting entitled to my belongings, telling me I owed him for his time. When I tried to leave, he became agitated, grabbed at my clothing,

and tried to stop me. I locked myself in a public bathroom and stayed there for nearly an hour while he waited outside. I was scared, I texted my family, begging someone to come get me. My brother arrived first, and only then did he leave. After that, the harassment turned vindictive. He gave my personal information to unsafe people. So I began receiving threatening messages. When I confronted him, he accused.

me of being mentally unstable and tried to convince me that I was the abuser. Then the messages multiplied. He contacted me from dozens of numbers sending disturbing messages with images and threats. He also showed up at one of my neighbor's houses, believing I lived there. He waited on their porch for hours. He harassed all of my neighbors, since he wasn't sure where I actually lived, sending them odd gifts such as cat food. Then he got involved with my family. He spammed my mother with graphic images and non-stop calls until her phone became unusable.

She had to change her number and wipe her device. She lost years of photos and data in the process. He somehow found my sister's number as well, and she had to change her number. We installed security cameras and spent hundreds of dollars trying to protect ourselves from someone who just wouldn't let go. I was trying to be kind to someone who seemed lonely. I learned the hard way that kindness without boundaries can be dangerous,

so to the guy who turned my life and my family's lives upside down, let's not meet ever. I was in the Netherlands on a work trip, and one evening I found myself alone in a hotel with nothing to do. Like any self-respecting gay man, reading or watching TV seemed like unedifying pastimes to do with my free time. So instead I figured why not impulsively throw myself on a grinder for hours and maybe risk my life meeting someone. So then I started chatting with this cute, nice young guy.

He lived fairly far from my hotel, so we decided to meet halfway to get to know each other. For me, it was going to be a five-kilometer trek on foot, which I happily did because I like walking around new cities. Not knowing the local geography, I imagined pubs and bars along the way during my walk, but instead I found myself in a rather lonely, gloomy part of town. This guy that I met up with, he was much better looking in person than he appeared online in his photos. When we chatted online, he was friendly and nice, but in person he was quite reserved and unapproachable. As I talked with him, he replied in monosyllables with no engagement whatsoever. The emotional and physical affection, deprivation my parents raised me with has made me an insecure,

egocentric, who must be liked by any other person at any cost. If he liked me, I knew my subconscious would suggest I'd heal my narcissistic wounds and finally be worthy of my mom's love. So I proceeded with performing my typical mating dance, and he was sufficiently smitten. He was so smitten that he suddenly invited me back to his place, and I accepted. So then we went to his place, which was another five kilometers away from my hotel. It was right in the countryside, and my phone stopped getting signal. I'm not sure if this happened because of the lack of coverage or if I ran out of credit. His house was nothing like I imagined. It looked more like the house of an old lady, who collected doilies.

He then told me that the villa we were in was inherited from his grandmother and he explained that he had been living there alone for several years. Then he showed me what he had been cooking in the kitchen. It was nauseating, a watery stew that I had hoped he wasn't going to be offering to me.

Then he took me to the living room. When we sat on the couch he loosened up a bit. Between one chat and another, he told me he was a fashion designer, and he said that he produced the fabrics that he used himself, with the help of a 3D printer, which was a super innovative technique. I told him that I knew a Dutch designer he used the same technique,

and I told him that her name was Iris Van Herpin. After a brief pause, he started foaming at the mouth. Then he said that this very Van Herpen stole his idea, and he wanted to sue her. He then pulled out all of these DVDs of fashion shows and commented on every single piece, meanwhile showing me YouTube videos of the established designer's shows

with the supposed copies of his work. Van Herpen's models looked like ethereal, graceful works of art walking down the runway, while his models, wearing his creations, did not. I didn't share this sentiment with him, but on the contrary, I nodded along sympathetically to his megalomaniac claims. As I resigned myself to the idea that nothing was going to happen, he kissed me. It was one of the worst kisses of my life.

I tried to guide him to improve things, but he just couldn't do it. It was like when you try to teach your grandpa how to use his email. He stopped and told me that he'd be right back. Then he went upstairs to the second floor. Ten minutes went by, and he was nowhere to be seen. So I approached the stairs, and I shouted, Is everything okay? Yes, yes, he called out in response.

Could it be that he wanted me to go upstairs and find him there? Naked? I wondered. So I then asked, should I come up? And he replied, no, no, wait. So I waited. Twenty minutes passed. I had no idea what he was doing.

I wasn't sure if he was taking a shower or what, but I didn't hear any water running. After a while, much darker hypothetical scenarios started to crowd in my mind. I was thinking about scenarios that anyone with a bit of common sense would think of if they found themselves alone and isolated in a stranger's house. Is he putting on a raincoat to protect himself? from the blood when he chops me up, I thought, among other morbid things. If the idea of being murdered by a stranger was just barely surfacing at that point, the doubt turned into certainty

when I realized that the door we came through had been locked with a key from the inside. So then I went into the kitchen where there was another door. This one was locked as well. In the meantime, I went back into the living room and I scanned the place for possible escape routes. In a dramatic flash forward, I pictured myself throwing an armchair through the window and then jumping out and running away, or finding a flashlight in the bookcase

to send Morse code distress signals. Then finally he came downstairs after about 50 minutes, impassive, and expressed without any emotion, I want to fuck you. I had completely lost the desire at this point. I was genuinely convinced he was going to kill me. I told him I had to go back since it was late. He immediately said that I could not leave yet,

because he wanted to fuck. I told him he took too long and said that I had to go back to the hotel. It was 10 kilometers away. He then sighed. I asked him to let me connect to his Wi-Fi since my phone had no signal, and I needed some signal so that I could follow the route on Google Maps. He pointed to a modem blinking under the chair and said, The password is underneath.

I crouched down, and I tried to look for the password on the sticker on the back of the modem. After a few seconds, I realized I was bent over with him right behind me. While trying the password, I kept glancing at him as he slyly watched from the couch. My hands were now shaking. At a certain point, I saw him lean forward from the couch to grab something from behind a piece of furniture. It was an object that I couldn't see. I figured it must have been a weapon to knock me out. So I jumped up, grabbed a lamp, brandished it, and told him,

let me out of here. He looked at me surprised and said, If you want to go out, then go. I can't, I replied. The door is locked. Follow me, he said. I was certain I was going to die. So I kept the lamp with me,

and he looked at me impassively, as if this were perfectly normal. I followed him and we went into the kitchen where the nauseating stew was still reigning supreme, and he told me the keys for the door were in there. The light in this room was off. He walked in without turning it on and opened a drawer.

I clearly heard the clinking of cutlery. I remember thinking, he wants to attack me with the kitchen knife. So I suddenly turned on the light, still brandishing the lamp. He looked at me coldly as he took the keys out of the cutlery drawer. Then we headed toward the door.

As soon as I was outside, I ran like hell, with the lamp still in my hand. It took me two hours to get back to the hotel. As soon as I entered my room, I opened my laptop and, since his first and last name were visible in the fashion show that he tortured me with viewing, I blocked him on Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, and everything. Years later, this encounter still unsettles me so much. So I googled the name of the city I was in, along with his name and the word killer, since I genuinely feel that sooner or later, he's going to kill someone. This experience has left me with some questions. What did he do alone on that second floor for 50 minutes?

Was he preparing the crime scene? Or did he just take Viagra, waiting for it to kick in? Was his grandmother not dead? And did he knock her out with chloroform? What did I see him grab from behind that piece of furniture? A weapon? A portable Wi-Fi hotspot for my signal-less phone, a dildo? I'll never know what was going on for sure. But it was weird.

Let's not meet again, Grindr Date. I've probably just been reading too much Anne Rice, but I could swear that last story was about a vampire. Anyways, great stories all around. If you have a story to share, make sure you send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com. And if you're a patron, stick around after the music for your extended version of this week's episode.

If you want to get access to patreon.com forward slash let's not meet podcast, to sign up and support the show today, you'll get access to ad-free versions of all of our episodes at a higher bit rate, plus stories and those bonus extensions that you won't hear anywhere else every single week. Again, that's patreon.com forward slash let's not me podcast, and be sure to check out the new episodes of my other podcasts

like Odd Trails, my True Paranormal Podcast, and the old-time radiocast at crypticcountypodcast.com or wherever you get your podcasts, and follow me on Twitch at twitch.tv.com. This week you have heard, I walked into a cult by, Brody M.K. 64. A banana saved my life by K. Long. Abandoned Club by Impossible Donut 229. Had a stalker for five months by That Girl Mary. Watcher in the woods by Pazazaz Ansari. Weird encounter on a rural

dead end road by Eric 710. Creepy Dollar Tree Man by Poppy. Don't be kind to a social pariah by Jay and finally Grindr Date by Hyper Ballad 83. All of the stories you've heard this week were narrated and produced with the permission of their respective authors. Let's Not Meet a true horror podcast is not associated with Reddit or any other message boards online. Again, if you have a story to share, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com, and we'll see you next week. Everybody, stay safe. This story took place in 2016.