Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Karma Is Not a Bitch, It's the Asshole That Lives Above Me


A few years ago, I foolishly moved in with my boyfriend at the ripe age of 20. We were having a lot of problems at the time (i.e. he was cheating on me) and we both felt that living together would be a quick fix to our problems (i.e. I could keep a better watch on him). Obviously, this innovative living situation was doomed for failure and upon moving into our second home (a house turned into two apartments), this became evident to not only us, but our downstairs neighbors.

While I do not need/want to get into details regarding the six degrees of crazy that the two of us participated in, I will say that it involved throwing things, kicking things, screaming, crying and all in all being loud enough for my neighbors to still avoid me on the street four years later.

Fast forward four years and I am living on my own in a peaceful first floor apartment (it’s a house turned into two apartments). Upon move in, I had met the attractive 20-something male who lives above me. Hmm, I thought. This could be interesting. However, my dreams were shattered moments later when a bubbly blonde with a southern accent walked up behind him and introduced herself as his live in girlfriend.

That very night, I awoke from my deep slumber to what sounded like my brother’s restless leg syndrome. Pow, Pow, Pow, Pow, Pow, Pow, Pow. Over and over again at the speed of light for 1.5 minutes. Then nothing. While I never had to experience the disappointment of awkward rabbit sex, I knew in an instant that I was living beneath two bunny rabbits. I wasn’t terribly upset in that I knew these nightly animal noises would only interrupt my sleep for 1-3 minutes, at most, per night. I more so felt bad for the girlfriend who had to not only hear those horrible mating noises, but participate in making them as well. However, my compassion for the southern bell only lasted a mere five hours.

At 6 am, I was again awoken. “GET OUT OF FUCKING BED!” I jumped up out of my sleep and thought for a moment that I was being robbed. “WHERE THE FUCK IS MY TIE?” And I realized it was the attractive 20-something male who was clearly upset from the moment he woke up. The screaming continued back and forth between the two of them until male-crazy presumably went to work.

This routine of horrible humping at night and screaming in the morning continued since my first night/morning in my “peaceful” home. While my hatred for them continued to grow, so did my knowledge of their tumultuous relationship. Steve and Haeley moved to Pittsburgh from Buffalo. This is their first time living together. Steve is quite unhappy when his shirts are not ironed in the morning. Haeley does not work. Steve must think he is good at sex. Haeley still texts her ex boyfriend. And lastly they have each other’s names tattooed on their wrists.

I found out the latter detail late one evening when a male suitor and I heard pounding on my front door at 3 am. Apparently, the two were drunk and locked out of their apartment. Snow was falling hard outside and I being a little tipsy myself, was feeling overly empathetic for them and invited the unhappy couple in until they found another place to stay.

After two rounds of drinks, Steve finally acknowledged the elephant in the room. “You have to hate us,” he said.

I did not refute the statement and simply smiled. They went on to explain to Ex and I how they came to live in Pittsburgh and how much they love each other. Ex and I both nodded and smiled politely but never once said “it’s ok” to their apologies. Because frankly, it wasn’t ok. They left and while the manic depressive behavior of their relationship discontinued for two whole nights, the usual schedule resumed on day three.

While I knew I was experiencing two minotaurs* living above me by way of Karma for my bad behavior four years ago, God decided to make a joke regarding my mistress status on top of it.

Last Friday, I was thankfully an hour away from my apartment when I received a text from Steve at 1:45 a.m. “Are you out,” he asked. Thinking that the two were again locked out, I responded, “No, why?” To which I received a series of pathetic text messages.

“My girl is outta town. Let’s hang out.” “I’m looking to party.” “BTW you looked really great when I saw you the other day waiting for the bus.” “I’m sorry I’m really drunk.” “I didn’t mean to offend you.” And lastly, “Good talk.”

I couldn’t bring myself to respond out of utter disgust for him and the momentary drunkenness I was experiencing at the party I was at when I received his desperate attempts to make our two story house into Melrose Place. In the morning, I considered responding to him or to unknowing Haeley. However, I realized that any ramifications for his actions would only result in more disruption of my sleep by their fighting. For now, the embarrassment he will feel the next time he sees me entering or exiting my apartment is punishment enough.

I stare, even today, appalled at the texts. Not only do I advertise mistress on my forehead, but apparently crazy too. Karma is apparently funny, but not a bitch. It’s a 5’11 dark handsome nut job. Karma is actually the asshole that lives above me.



*Minotaurs reference my favorite essay that inspired me to write this post. Hilarious and definitly worth checking out: http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/min/733317143.html