Neighbordykes

I heard a thumpy sound outside as I was relaxing after my onion soup, and opened the front door to find Sam, my neighbordyke, clearing my walk of the snowstorm’s snarky coda.

Sam and Tuu live around the corner in a basement apartment probably illegally rented by a leathery guy with artisanal skills and a work shed that takes up most of his back yard. They keep Chihuahuas (Tuu is a dog groomer) and have had lively exchanges with my dipshit next-door neighbor over street parking. Months back I told them that I had no problem with their big-ass SUV parking at my curb; at least I would know who to call if I needed it moved.

In a curious dance that I have seen played out here in the very blue province of Arlington County yea many times, they referred to each other as “roommates” until the day I encountered them coming home from the Gay Pride Parade in matching rainbow T-shirts. One day this will all seem so normal that this very post will be quaint.

I’ve lived here eighteen years and for the first time, son of a bitch, I have a neighbor.

She might have noticed that I cleaned off her SUV in the last snowblast. What the heck, I was out there. Whatever. It makes me less of a misanthropic old bitch for this one night.

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4 thoughts on “Neighbordykes

  1. The Washington suburbs had no sense of community 40 years ago, and even less now. In most MD and VA suburban areas, neighbors can now go years without knowing names, sometimes not even bothering to acknowledge each other with a wave or “good morning.”

    I recently moved into a rare building in MoCo with small efficiency apartments, low rent, and residents are not exactly affluent. Some people keep to themselves here, but for the most part, everyone knows names and stops to talk. I think the DC area in general is too affluent and too transient — despite many who live most of our lives here — to have a sense of community, or even familiarity with neighbors. Poor people tend to have more community than affluent people, or maybe their ‘community” is at a country club.

  2. I really hope this post becomes quaint, I really do.

    I’m actually more surprised that you will be kind to people that like dogs 🙂

    And fucking pleased that you finally have some decent people living close by – and I really, really hope your bitchy old cunts next door HATE to see that SUV out front 🙂

    • They’re Chihuahuas! They can’t reach my arm to bite it — which is my main and major fear-and-loathing thing about dogs. I don’t trust a single one of them that’s big enough to do that to NOT do it, and the behavior I see from them usually threatens it (and yes, when I was knocked down by a Doberman at the age of four, it was the Chihuahua that ran up and chomped my fingers — but it couldn’t have happened without teamwork). The miniature, who rides around in a padded papoose when they go walking, actually let me hold her and stayed angelically quiet.

      • Is that ‘that’ dog? Hummm. I’ve been bitten by three dogs – German Shepherd, Rottweiler, and a chihuahua. First two on my ass, last on my ankle as it couldn’t reach my ass. I’m not a fan of the little fuckers.

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