The luster of freshness steadily wears off any relationship so that much like your new pair of shoes, despite your careful steps, develop scuffs and smudges, and inevitably start to smell lived in.
B__ lives in the hood, or at least adjacent. She’s not racist — I doubt she’d have bought the house she did if she had any real issues. I simply think she’s unfamiliar with (or dislikes) the cultural differences that bring young, poor, African Americans out onto their porches and into the streets to get their late-Spring evening party on (and so loudly!) while young, better-heeled, white yupsters quietly retreat into their homes promptly upon parking the car to bask in the air conditioning and television. Sure, it’s annoying when you’re trying to sleep at 11pm because you have to be up at 6am and you’ve got the windows open for the three weeks the local climate will allow it and the neighbors are out being wild. Do you have the right to call the cops? Certainly. Are there more neighborly ways to handle it? Certainly again.
I probably only find the whole thing notable because K__ was similarly inclined to call in the heavies rather than face a difficult social situation with neighbors she wasn’t fond of sharing an address with in the first place. I’m no one to talk — I’d rather lay there (and fume) and wait until the party fizzles out all by itself rather than be thought a square. As long as there’s no gunplay, I’m usually content to mind my business.
Last night I laid in bed unable to sleep. I couldn’t point you to any single cause. B__ and I had had another uncomfortable conversation in which she asked me for assurance that I didn’t feel comfortable giving. We didn’t really end it properly, and after awhile she rolled over with her back to me. I thought she might be awake and upset, and that certainly wasn’t helping my own insomnia. It was only when she rolled back over that I knew I’d been wrong, but that was because of her snoring. She and one of the dogs traded verses and choruses in some bizarre subconscious opera. Score another trait I eventually came to resent K__ for. I had too much coffee yesterday afternoon and went to bed too early. By the time I noticed the neighbors making noise, I half wanted to join them for a 40 in the street.
I catch myself in this train of thought and wonder if I’m looking for the exits. B__’s been very open and vulnerable with me. I think she’s in love. That’s flattering and it pushes all my arrogance buttons about how awesome I am, about how I deserve to be treated better than K__ treated me. But it also scares me shit-less. I know I’m not remotely ready to be swimming in the deep end. I haven’t been able to return her I-love-yous because I know what kind of implied promises go along with it.
B__ enjoys living downtown and has pointed out a few available houses. I’m not sure where the joking ends and the seriousness begins when she suggests the (obvious) benefits of co-habitating, and any serious discussion immediately leads to how absurdly premature such inklings are. Of course, of course, we agree.
It’s another cold shadow cast from K__ — her repeated attempts to lure me into a larger house I didn’t think we could afford and the bitterness that went along with me eventually dismissing most attempts to even discuss the subject. Yes, this is different, but I daresay it’s not less scary.
…
It’s K__’s birthday [redacted], and I’d initially planned to get her a nice present. About a week ago, I stopped being able to even think about it. I feel so completely used financially, I can’t bear the idea of volunteering another nickel. It’s petty, and K__ takes birthdays very, very seriously. The slight will not go unnoticed. I can already tell it’s a huge mistake in the making. There’s still time, but I’m actively squandering it.