Don't Make Out With Your Drunk Neighbor

Look, it doesn’t matter how hard up or lonely one is. [Note: I am neither hard up, nor lonely].  There are just some people who are off limits. Neighbors fall on the short list.  Think about all the awkward possibilities of shacking up with one’s neighbor only to later regret said hook up and continuously run into the neighbor at the grocery store, or in the laundry room, or at the HOA meeting.

I’ve never hooked up, made out, or had sex with any of my neighbors (that I’m aware of). Flirted with, yes. But like your best friend’s ex-husband there are just some guys that should be left alone.

Now the only reason this comes up is because tonight my drunken neighbor attempted to make out with me.  Rain isn’t the only thing falling from Denver skies lately. There seems to be a lot of man-sooning happening as well these days. Allow me to paint the picture:

I am sitting on the bordello red couch finishing up my evil master plans for tomorrow morning. The ingredients are purchased and the alarm is set for 9am so that I can get up and begin baking cookies. Cookies with toffee and bacon and scheming in them. Imagine my surprise when “knock knock” comes my next door neighbor and his beautiful Akita dog.

“Hey, I just got home from the bar and I’m not ready to call it a night yet. You want a drink?” he asks.

It’s midnight on a Sunday. I’m getting up to bake cookies for another man in the morning. But my sense of adventure takes over and I decide, “Why not?”  Which, incidentally, are the two words that come out of my mouth.

“Why not?”

Off neighbor-boy goes, leaving the dog with me. He returns moments later triumphantly clutching a very dusty, somewhat cheap, bottle of wine.  He proudly presents it to me as though it is made of solid gold.

“If we open this, we have to commit to drinking it,” he says beaming.  And so we do.

What follows is what seems like hours of awkward conversation between two people with little more in common than the fact that they live next door to each other.  Really it was only about an hour, but still, time drags when you’re making conversation with someone who has been drinking since 3pm.  Since we are outside on the porch much of our conversation revolves around the other people in our townhomes, the new girls who moved in across the street, whether or not our other neighbor is a sex worker. Pretty standard stuff.

At some point he attempts to tickle me. This is an uncomfortable situation that I quickly put a stop to.

Later he will suddenly get an adventurous look on his face and a sprite step. He will say loudly and rather rushed, “You know what I want to do right now?” before magically leaping from his chair to mine and breathlessly saying, “Make out with you,” three inches from my face.

I panic. My neighbor is drunk and has been rather gassy. I have politely ignored the toots.  Drunk, gassy, and wantonness to make out only fill two of my three requirements of  a man.

“I don’t think my boyfriend would like that,” I say ducking my head to the side, dodging punch-like kisses.

I bet he wouldn’t. Whoever that mysterious boyfriend I just made up is. Sorry drunk neighbor!

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