Something happened to me last night and I’m still disturbed by it.

I was walking home from the PATH station when I saw a group of four or five boys ahead, standing in front of an apartment complex. They were 13, maybe 14 years old. I usually walk home along the other side of the street, but last night I happened to be walking on their side. These kids have bothered me before: on Halloween evening they threw an egg across the street at me and hit my backpack, and one evening this winter someone threw a snowball at me (and missed). Total losers with nothing better to do than bother people. The night they hit me with the egg, I actually turned around and started to run after them, but they ran away yelling, “Oh, shit!”

So last night I was walking along and I saw them ahead. I decided I was going to ignore them, but then two of them started taunting me and walking after me. They were asking why my pants were so tight, which they weren’t. “Aren’t they huggin’ your nuts?” they said. They weren’t, but I guess anything looks tight to kids who wear jeans that ride halfway down their asses.

Then they asked why I was walking away so fast.

For some reason — maybe I thought that if I were friendly with them they’d think I was cool and leave me alone, or maybe I could hear my dad’s or my brother’s voice in my ear telling me not to be a wimp — I stopped and turned around. They were about my height (I’m 5’6″).

I said, “I’m going home to watch Friends.” I was trying to use a cool, relaxed intonation. It was almost 8:00.

One of them said, “Friends is on at 7 and 11, yo.”

I said, “Those are the old ones. The new ones are Thursdays at 8.”

Then the other one said that I had big eyebrows.

When confronted by someone trying to insult me, I sometimes decide to agree with them, in order to throw them off, defuse the situation and take away their ammunition. “Yeah, they kinda need to be trimmed, don’t they,” I said, laughing.

Then he said my jacket wasn’t real leather. “What are you talking about? Of course it is,” I said.

Then the other one looked at my scarf and said, “My grandma gave that scarf to the Salvation Army.” My 100% cashmere scarf. I said, “Yeah, that’s where I got it.”

They said that my glasses were sliding down my nose, and (worse) they noticed that I was holding a book, which I’d been reading on the train.

“You get girls, man?” they said.

Then I did something that I hate to do — I lied about my sexual orientation.

“Yeah,” I said.

“How many?”

I shrugged. “I get some.”

“No you don’t. You’re a geek.”

“Yeah, I am,” I said. “Girls like geeks.”

“You gay?”

“No,” I said, swallowing my pride.

“You got a girlfriend?”

“Not right now,” I said, a little awkwardly.

Then one of them pointed at my book. “What book is that?”

It was Civil Wars: A Battle For Gay Marriage, so I didn’t want to show it to them. It didn’t have a book jacket but the name was printed on the spine.

“It’s just a book,” I said.

“You don’t want to show it to me?”

“No.”

He put his hand on it and I tried to pull it away from him but he grasped it harder.

“I’m not gonna take it from you, I just wanna see it,” he said.

“It’s my book,” I said. “I gotta go.” So I pulled it out of his hand and walked away, crossing to the other side of the street. I heard him joke that he had a glock (a type of machine gun, I think) in his jacket.

Then he threw a big pebble at me. It missed.

So much for my trying to win them over.

Assholes.

Then they stopped bothering me and I continued walking home.

But I was really angry. And I’m still angry. I couldn’t stop thinking about it last night, even though I wanted to. I was in my safe, nice apartment, but it kept invading the sanctuary of my thoughts. I kept thinking about it and feeling nervous and unsafe.

Part of it is that I got mugged two years ago, and this probably evoked some of those feelings.

But it also gave me flashbacks to middle school, back when I really was a frizzy-haired nerd who had skipped seventh grade, none of which ever endeared me to the cool kids. And here I was last night, a short guy with glasses, walking home carrying a book, totally unfamiliar with whatever passes for “cool” among teenagers today, and I was being taunted. Again. Like I was back in middle school. I was so pissed off. I’m 30 years old and I’m not supposed to have to put up with this shit anymore. I’m supposed to be a different person now, an adult, with greater self-esteem. Part of me was thinking, how can you guys see through my facade? Why won’t you let me move on with my life? Why are you trying to haunt me? Why are you trying to drag me back into your world? Why me? What the fuck do you have against me? Can’t I ever escape from this crap?

I’m also a little nervous because I walk home along that street every evening after work. (Fortunately, I live next to a police station.) For all I know, one of them has a switchblade or a gun or something at home. Doubtful, but who knows. I’m not going to start walking along a different street, though. In fact, I want to forget the conversation ever happened. I’m just going to start ignoring them. I want to make as little an impression on them as possible. It’s weird — they’re only 13 or 14 years old and yet I’m kinda scared.

I can’t believe I am letting myself be scared by kids.

Anyway, this morning I was riding the train to work, surrounded by adults commuting to their jobs, and I felt at home again. Among adults.

Thank goodness I’m an adult now. Thank goodness I don’t have to put up with that shit anymore. Thank goodness adults don’t act like that.

Well, except for, you know, the ones who want me to burn in hell because I’m gay.

And of course the racists and the xenophobes.

And don’t forget the anti-Semites.

Oh, and all those who make themselves feel better by picking other people.

What was I saying again? Oh, yeah. Thank goodness adults don’t act like that.