Let me tell you the story of my hot neighbor. He's an attractive dude who lives across the street. When I say attractive, I mean it. He's super tall and sort of strikingly handsome. I (not so creatively)
refer to him as "hot neighbor".
I first saw hot neighbor when a woman dropped him off on a not-so-chilly November night. I was walking my dog, it was 10:30 p.m. on a Thursday night, and I should have been in bed.
I saw him the next morning at 6:30 a.m. I was running with my dog and he was waiting for a cab. My first thought was, "Bummer. I must have a hot lady neighbor with whom this hot dude spent the night." (I know, super heteronormative of me, huh? Assuming hot neighbor was straight.)
Then I saw him again a week later. He was smoking a cigarette and I was walking my dog. Hot neighbor? Or the hot booty call of a presumably hot neighbor? Unclear.
I saw him three more times over the next two months and decided to call him hot neighbor regardless of his residency.
Then I saw him about a month ago. He was cranking a butt and I was walking my mangey mutt. I convinced myself to talk to him. Say hi, at least. I spent the next five seconds psyching myself up, like the flirty engine that could... I will say hi to hot neighbor. I will say hi to hot neighbor. I will say hi to hot neighbor!
Then, my stupid dog took an about face and made a beeline for my apartment. Dammit. I figured it wasn't meant to be. When I got to my door, I turned around, and looked at him to see if he noticed my mere existence in this universe. And he did! He was looking in my direction and waved when I turned my head. Aaaahhhhhh!
He is my crush. He is mysterious. He is tall and dreamy. He smokes, which is normally a total turnoff, and still is, kind of... Though if he was a non-smoker, I may have only seen him once or twice.
Hi hot neighbor.
