Wednesday, May 26, 2010

An Open Letter To My Neighbor

Dear Michael, My Back Yard Neighbor,

It’s me. You know, the tall, lanky, bearded bisexual guy from the house behind yours. Yes, the one to whom you flashed your naked body, late that one night not so long ago. The one who’ll appear like magic in his glass back doors, mornings, with his bowl of cereal when you pace up and down your back yard walk and pretend to stretch for the morning runs that you never take. But that’s okay. I like the way you bend over and point your ass in my direction as you stretch your hamstrings.

It’s really a beautiful ass, by the way. Just like the rest of you is beautiful. I’ve always been a fan of your long, shoulder-length curly hair, though I’ve heard your wife suggest at least twice that you should cut it. I really am turned on by that huge Slavic nose of yours, believe it or not. I love your stocky, jock-ish body, even when you’ve been eating a few too many pierogies over the winter. For a guy in your mid-thirties carrying three kids, a mortgage, and a full-time teaching job (at least, that’s my best guess from your schedule), you’re doing really well.

I still think of the first day we met, a few years back, when you’d just moved in and were cutting down that crabapple tree between us that blocked my view of your house. (Thank you for that favor, by the way. Best thing you ever did for our relationship.) The majority of the tree was gone by the time I saw what you were doing. When I stepped out onto my back porch, hands on my hips, I saw for the first time that part of one of the tree’s upper branches had grown between the power lines in a way that was suspending it in mid-air. So there you were, on a ladder, trying to snip away at a branch belonging to a tree that no longer existed, like some conundrum from an absurdist painting.

“Hey,” I said, and told you my name.

“Hey. I’m Michael,” you told me.

I watched you cut away most of the branch. “Do you need some help there?” I asked. “Or do you want to bring your ladder over here?”

You refused, amiably enough. Maybe you rightly suspected that my subtext was something along the lines of, Do you want to bring your sexy daddy body into my bed? Because since that moment there’s been a sexual tension that I know isn’t my own imagination. When you sit in the back yard, you do it when I’m relaxing or working on my deck, and you always point your body directly at me. When you’re stretching, you always look over your shoulder to see if I’m there with my cereal bowl. There’s always an awareness of each other, between us.

Then there was yesterday.

I was out on my deck in the afternoon warmth, reading my book, while you puttered around on your porch. I watched you for a while, yes. But then I’m afraid that Sarah Waters’ The Little Stranger got the better of me, because I became so absorbed in it that I kind of stopped paying attention to you at all.

That is, until you yelled out, at top volume, “Feast your eyes! FEAST YOUR EYES!” Whereupon I looked up to find you standing on the top porch step clad in only a tight pair of shorts, bare-chested for the world to see. And by ‘world,’ I mean, ‘me.’

May I just say at this juncture, Michael, on the extremely off-chance that you’re reading my blog, that you have a beautiful chest? You’ve been working out, and it shows. Your proportions are great. Your chest fuzz is inspiring. The trail that leads down to what I remember as your substantial, dark pubic hair makes me want to drop to my knees. My eyes feasted, Michael. Oh, they feasted.

The alleged intended recipient of your manly cry was supposed to be your mouse of a wife. However, Michael, I know that it was meant for me. Why? Because for one thing, you were facing my direction. Your wife was behind you. The only person who could feast was me. For another, you shouted out the directive so loudly that everyone in the neighborhood could hear. And that wife of yours? Only two feet away. I know she’s not deaf.

I’m reasonably sure, and I think a jury of my peers would back me up here, that you stripped down especially for me, to celebrate the first day it was warm enough for the both of us to be in our back yards. Furthermore, I know by the looks you kept shooting me, as I watched you tinker around on your porch shirtless and always facing my direction, that you enjoy it when I stare at you.

So let’s cut to the chase. We haven’t talked since the incident with the crabapple branch. But I’m game. Do you want my dick? It’s yours. My ass? It’s yours. Are you one of those straight guys whose vanity preens itself a little when I gawk at you from not-so-afar? It’ll be torture, but I’ll keep doing it, if your ego needs the strokes.

Michael, you’re a fine, fine man, and feasting upon you is exactly what I’d like to do.

Hoping you read this letter,
Your back yard neighbor.

27 comments:

  1. I still think a strategically placed glory hole in the fence would allow you both to get what you want!

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  2. I support Evan's idea, but that shouldn't come as a shock to anyone.

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  3. Fan, it doesn't shock me. Come help me drill it.

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  4. I know exactly where you're coming from. I can't think of any place I've ever lived where I didn't have a crush/fascination with one of my male neighbors. In my perfect world, my next door neighbor would be my fuckbuddy...how convenient would that be?

    This guy sounds hot and he definitely knows what he's doing.

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  5. This potential juror votes guilty as charged. (And I'm boning a bit at the thought of the jury selection process that will find 12 of your "peers" - talk about your hung jury! Here's hoping we'll be sequestered for a long time...)

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  6. You offered him your ass!! That would be something, wouldn't it?

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  7. I think the 'straight-vanity' hypothesis is close. Bi is always a real possibility. I'll admit, I'm not good at picking up on that real life subtext. The internet has caused us (I would say me but I don't think it's just me) to somewhat evolve past needing or wanting to flirt in the real world. Like not needing our appendixes anymore? This is a bad metaphor. Hey, that rhymed. Now I'm digressing.

    But, I would say, Mrs. Wife saying she wants him to cut his hair suggests that her attraction to him has waned ever so slightly, and he may not be receiving the attention or affection he clearly craves. Though, that may not mean he wants the full treatment. He could just not be having his narcissistic desires fulfilled, which you seem more than willing to oblige. Then again, he might just want your action, Jackson. That rhyme is super marginal, but it had to be done. I'd read more into it but I'm late :(.

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  8. Hornyfather,

    You would know, right? There's a house for sale two doors down from me, by the way..

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  9. Throb,

    Are you a lawyer, my friend? Because that legalese you're spouting is kind of hot. I'd let you be my jury foreman anytime.

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  10. J.,

    I tend to side with you on the 'straight but needing an ego boost' theory, myself. Who doesn't like to be made to feel attractive by a stranger?

    A guy can dream, though.

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  11. Anonymous,

    I'm willing to take one for the team if I have to!

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  12. Hey, I'd love to be wrong. :)

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  13. I guess you could always go knock on his door and ask to borrow a cup of milk and see what happens.

    I enjoy your writing about lust and longing as much as your writing about actually having. Although you might not like it as much...

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  14. Mark,

    I know from experience that sometimes longing for something is sweeter than having had it. Being able to laugh at myself for it, a little, keeps it in perspective.

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  15. Mark and Breeder,

    Wouldn't it be more pointed to ask for some cream? Oh. Too forward? I have boundary issues. Sue me.

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  16. Wow, I just read the first blog. I change my vote completely. In my defense, the Michael of this blog was much more withdrawn than the other Michael, which is definitely saying something. What, I'm not sure, but this truly is quite a conundrum you have here. Here's to wish fulfillment! Cheers.

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  17. John,

    I'll let you visit and fly that particular test balloon. How's about it?

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  18. J.,

    I still don't know. There's nothing unusual about strolling around your own house in the buff. (Is there? Because if so, I'm unusual.) It's that sense of hyper-awareness I get from the guy whenever we see each other that makes me aware something is up. I just can't pinpoint it.

    I did place a Craigslist missed connections ad one time, to see if he'd nibble. He didn't.

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  19. Hey I'm gay and I wouldn't nibble at a craigslist posting. I'm in a monogamous relationship and don't visit sites like that. So if I'm tempted, its in person. We know this guys married; maybe that's what's going on..interested but taken. Especially as he lives next door; I would fear cheating on my partner with the next door neighbour.

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  20. James,

    Oh, sure. I totally believe that cheating with the next-door neighbor would be too big a risk for most guys! I'm with you on that one.

    But stripping off your shirt and stretching and flexing for the next-door neighbor while your wife is standing three feet away ought to be on his list of prohibited behaviors too, then!

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  21. sure back at you Breeder, All I meant was maybe its not "straight but needing an ego boost" but something else.

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  22. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

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  23. So I'm curious.....what has happened in the 5-plus months since? Right now I'm imagining him progressing to nude sunbathing.....to glory hole-in-fence drilling......to digging a tunnel over to your side (hey, why not, I'd do it if I were him!!!)

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  24. Jonking,

    I think I wrote a couple of other entries about this guy--sadly, he moved out of his house month before last, and moved to New York State.

    Sigh. He was all kinds of sexy.

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  25. I'm hoping your new back yard neighbor will be just as sexy and more open/willing. As for jonking's suggestion, a gate would be simpler. ;-)
    JPinPDX

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  26. So my question is, after nearly 9 years from posting this have you ever posted an update to this neighborly situation in another blog? I certainly hope things progressed from where they were, warranting a hot update.

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