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...and then he spoke to me...
Once upon a time I lived in North Carolina. I had just (finally) gotten over being dumped by the first guy who�d ever really been a position to do that to me. I had a bird. I had no friends to speak of. It was a very transitional period for me. During that time I got a new neighbor. My new neighbor was incredibly good looking. I had hours and hours of entertainment just sitting in my second story apartment watching the new neighbor come and go. Sometime in the midst of all my spying activity I got it into my head that I was going to meet that neighbor. Alas, because the neighbor was very good looking and I do not like to do anything the easy way, I decided that what really was going to happen was that the neighbor was going to meet ME. I began to make a point of being outside when he was outside. If he was working on his truck, I was taking my garbage out. If he was just pulling into the parking lot, I would suddenly have to find something in my car. It�s a little pathetic to recount now, but the whole point is that it worked. After about a month of being in the right place at the right time, there was a knock on my door. I gazed through the peephole and my heart leapt into my throat. It was him! At my door! I took a moment to compose myself and then I swung the door open. And then he spoke to me. It was at that precise moment that every fantasy I�d constructed about the two of us and happily ever after came crumbling down around me. The guy was not terribly bright. He was also a complete (and bona fide) redneck. He drank too much. Smoked too much. Insisted on saying some not very nice things about people of other races even though we lived in a predominately NOT WHITE apartment complex and were, in fact, 2 of only four white people in our entire building. You see? Not terribly bright. He did, however, take a liking to me. After that he could be counted to knock on my door at least every couple of days and offer me dinner or ask me to sit out in the breezeway to smoke, drink, and philosophize. The motherly neighbor across the hall warned me away from him, but I figured out pretty quickly that while he wasn�t the brightest guy I�d ever met and he had some questionable beliefs and values � he was a generally nice guy. He fixed my car when it broke and checked up on me if I wasn�t feeling well. He was not the sort of person I would ever want to involve myself with relationship-wise (and believe me, after all that work to get noticed, I was quite disappointed) but he was harmless. It appears that I have a new redneck in my life. After my initial encounter with puppysitting lady�s neighbor, things had gotten quiet. We would politely say �hello� if passing in the halls and I would catch him looking at me while I was outside playing with the dogs. That sick, weird place in my brain that decides what intrigues me and what turns me off decided that puppysitting lady�s neighbor was incredibly intriguing and I should get him to meet me. Same rules applied. Same results. After weeks of prancing around in my cutest jammie-wear (I mean, I really am only willing to go so far with the man catching thing now. Losing the pajamas was never an option) he finally popped outside while I had the puppy out there and a 45-minute conversation ensued. Approximately 45 seconds into the conversation I knew the whole thing had been a mistake. I�m fairly certain that puppysitting lady�s neighbor is my old redneck neighbor�s cousin or something. Same rules apply: He drinks too much, smokes too much, swears WAY too much and way too loudly, there were no derogatory racist comments made but he did throw a rock at his dog which, y�know, not the sexiest move ever. Once again, I�m pretty sure he�s a genuinely nice guy. He seemed to be honestly concerned about the woman who walked shuffled by using a walker, his eyes went all big and he whispered in a sort of hushed awe voice �Does she need help?� �Um, no dude. I have a feeling she�s okay with just walking down the sidewalk. This doesn�t appear to be her first day with a walker.� That didn�t stop him from walking over and asking the lady if she wanted to pet his dog. Interesting. A foul-mouthed boy scout. In any case, he drunkenly babbled on and on to me about how I should put the shock collar on my neck and see what it feels like (wow. And no, dude.) and finally he hopped up through his window (!!) mumbling something about needing to eat. So, I�m not in love. I can�t quite figure out how I keep meeting the exact same guy in the exact same situations. I think that foul mouthed boyscout could be an incredibly entertaining figure in my life throughout this summer. I think, actually, that this summer in and of itself will be one big long adventure. I can�t wait!
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