Slice of Life

The Upstairs Neighbor Part 2: Not the Workout We Thought

This might be trashy or whatever, but quarantine starts to do things to a person, so I need a little bit of moral wiggle room here.

I wrote a post a few days back about my first week quarantine experiences, one particular bit about my upstairs neighbor who I discovered was working out at really odd times of the day and was working out really loudly. Uncomfortably so. Like, full-on man moaning and guttural and just, my skin was crawling while I was sitting in the now-shattered sanctuary of my living room.

Well, I was wrong. Or rather, sorta wrong. He’s working out, but it’s not the calisthenics / isometrics I previously concluded. Oh, no. The man is up there having loud, moaning, guttural, skin-crawling sex. I know this now because no one in their right mind moans “Oh, yes, baby” while lifting a 50 lbs. dumbbell.

I swear it was like he was outside on the balcony, that’s how loud this guy is. I, sitting near the window, reading in the afternoon light, heard it all.

Unfortunately, it’s what I couldn’t hear that’s adding to the quarantine mystery. I never heard the rhythmic tapings or thudding that usually accompanies two bodies having their fun. I didn’t hear an accompanying voice (male or female, we’re not judging here). And after the strong two minutes of showtime, I only heard one person walking around the apartment.

Now, I’ve seen this guy a few times. I also assume he works from home (pre-quarantine) because he’s always home. So he looks like what you’d expect – middle aged, dad bod, balding a bit, glasses, print screened t-shirt at the ready. Now don’t get me wrong, for the most part I date this type, so it’s not like I’m taking the piss. But I think it’d be a safe bet to say this guy is single.

I’ve also never seen an unknown car in our lot, heard an unfamiliar voice in the stairwell, nothing to suggest that those two minutes were shared with a flesh and blood human being. Truth is, masturbation is totally fine and healthy (probably encouraged at a time like this). Again, I’m not here judging this guy. But a loud campaign-that-involves-the-neighbors type of masturbation like he’s having is unacceptable.

Alternatively, what if it is neighbor-friendly? What’s gripping me now is a similarity between my previous observations and what my imagination witnessed today: immediately after the event is done, a door in the breeze way opens and a door in the breeze way closes, perhaps the same door, perhaps not. As I don’t hear any unfamiliar voices or see any unfamiliar cars, what if it’s an upstairs neighbor that’s rocking his world? The man may’ve found love this close to home, and who’s to fault him for it?

My last hypothesis is there’s a cam girl involved and he’s a bit of an exhibitionist. What if all his damn doors and window are open and it’s not that he’s particularly that loud, but he’s made it virtually impossible to be unheard? This would coincide with my last episode of his sexcapades in which I pulled open my breeze way door to yell, and I could very clearly hear someone shuffling above me, opening the door, and closing it. Perhaps he’s just into public sex and a nation-wide quarantine is simply putting an inconvenient cramp in his lifestyle.

Half of me wanted to yank my patio door open and angrily yell up at him. But then I remembered the broken screen, that I love my cat, and would be terrified if she got out. So I just had to sit there, powerless, shaking with the adrenaline of my near character breaking point, my heart headbanging into my ribs, until he finally came. It was incredibly anticlimactic. “Yes, oh baby, yes” was all he could muster. Volume does not compensate for quality, it appears.

The Southern Heathen in me wants to write a note, tack it to his door. Or yell at him mid-yank. But I don’t want to publicly shame this man, he doesn’t deserve that just for being human and enjoying himself. But a 30-something ought to know to at least turn the goddamn radio on.

The hoe in me wants to knock on my diagonal same-level neighbor’s door and see what he thinks about all this. I re-met him just the other day, we were both on our way out, and he’s super cute.

I’ve decided I shouldn’t be a hoe and that I shouldn’t be a prude. Next time, I’m just gonna bang super flippin hard on the glass patio door. It’ll vibrate and echo up to his place. It should be enough of a message.

However, if I have to fight fire with fire, so be it.

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