Every family has one. Ours just happened to be named Danny.
I pulled away. He laughed. And then he followed me for the rest of the night—not running, not yelling, just there . Refilling my drink when I wasn't looking. Waiting outside the bathroom. Appearing beside me in every group photo like a ghost who'd learned to smile. my cousin the creep
By high school, Danny had discovered the internet. He'd send me long, rambling messages at 2 a.m. about how we were "connected spiritually" because our birthdays were six days apart. He'd show up at my school events uninvited, claiming he was "in the area." He'd comment on every photo I posted within seconds—not with anything threatening, just overly familiar. Miss you, cuz. Thinking of you. You look so grown up now. Every family has one
The grown-ups called it "enthusiasm." My mom said he was lonely. My dad said he'd grow out of it. He laughed
But here's the thing about creeps: they don't grow out of it. They just get better at hiding it until they don't have to anymore.
And that's the problem, isn't it? We do know how Danny is. We've always known. But knowing doesn't fix anything if no one says this isn't okay .
And if you're an aunt, an uncle, a parent, a grandparent—please. Stop calling it enthusiasm. Start calling it what it is.