Setting: My apartment
Time of year: Windows-open season
We pass each other Saturday morning on the stairs and he looks at me with a twinkle in his eye. A twinkle that says: It sounded like you had quite a party last night, but we have yet to introduce ourselves even though we are two 20-something people who share a floor/ceiling. You seem like you’re in a hurry; we’ll just smile and nod today, yes ?
And I smile and nod at him with a twinkle in my eye that says, I’m not really in a hurry, just going to the park with my ipod, but I’m not going to introduce myself yet; anticipation is so fun, yes? And also, not to get all girly, but I’ve got this massive chin pimple and I'm a little worried about it.
Later that night, Downstairs Guy has a party
I perch at my window sipping tea and listening. Mostly I hear gibberish, unintelligible against the background of music, but I imagine conversations that go like this:
Guy: Brilliant comment about that recent movie. You know, the one in German.
Girl: I hear your brilliant comment, but I have this counterintuitive but equally well-observed point to make about the movie.
Guy: What’s that perfume you’re wearing?
Girl: A concoction of mostly unavailable scents.
Guy: It smells like Comme des Garcons Kyoto.
Guy: Let’s go to my house in Normandy next weekend.
The flashback: In which I suddenly wonder if Downstairs Guy had been listening to my party the evening before, and what it would have sounded like from the outside
Julie: I got into grad school -- Harvard!
Me : Damn girl, this cawls for some ChamPAGna!
I said it like I was related to George Bush. Then I popped the champagne and it went everywhere, and I said, "Eww, it got on my shooooe!"
Let’s hope he is theatrical: Things I imagine happening between me and Downstairs Guy
The Romantic Comedy
Downstairs Guy knocks on door.
Him: Do you have any eggs ?
Me: I do, but I’m so sorry I’m in these adorable pajamas and that you have to see me this way, so off guard but adorable.
Him: Come on down to my place! I’ll make you eggs.
Downstairs Guy and I crawling towards each other on bare wood floor, like in Dirty Dancing.
Downstairs guy and I both wear turtlenecks and trench coats; we kiss in an alley.
Doris Day fantasy
Leaning against a piano singing "Baby It’s Cold Outside," Downstairs Guy and I entertain our amused friends.
American Apparel ad fantasy
You know the one I mean. With the library ladder.
Sunday morning I hear sizzling sounds when I wake up. Eggs? French fries? It’s a mystery. And then I stick my head out the window. Bacon! Downstairs Guy is the one cooking the bacon! Here is a secret, which I will tell you now, Internet: I love bacon.
Our heroine has a sudden concern
My bathroom has a big window right by the toilet. Can Downstairs Guy hear me peeing?
Oooh, my apartment would be hot as a duplex
If you were to start dating someone in your building--say a person who lived, oh, downstairs from you--would you eventually move into a bigger place, or just renovate?
A harsh turn of events
Around 12 noon I hear a girl leave Downstairs Guy's apartment. I think she is wearing heels. Okay, okay, okay.
Around 7pm, I dash to the Parc Buttes-Chamont for a quick walk in the cool evening air and to climb the hilly streets surrounding. When I return at 9pm, the whole courtyard sounds like a restaurant, all the apartments making an orchestra of tinkling forks and knives and happy conversation.
Downstairs Guy is leaning out his window, talking on his cellphone.
I put on Feist and start singing, "Your ve-ry se-cret HEART. Bump bum."
Please note: I will update this series as I learn more about Downstairs Guy, like, perhaps, his name.