Dig Baton Rouge

The Bitter Lemon

By Holly A. Phillips

“I suppose every dating situation has its own list of risks, but I put the neighbor-date under the “shit where you eat” category; not a great idea. So, I told myself to keep my elevator crush to just that: a crush”

I’ve had what I call an “Elevator Crush” for the better part of a year. “Elevator Crush” is code for a guy who lives in my building; I don’t know his name (although I think it’s Todd), and I only see him in the elevator.

I know very little about him: that he lives a few doors down my hall, is always dressed nice, looks to be in his mid-30s, likes to bike, works as an attorney, and is not married (or doesn’t wear a ring).

He is well kept, and is always very friendly. I usually see him in the mornings as we are leaving for work. If a few days pass without a visit, he usually asks where I’ve been.

I refrain from telling him the truth, which is probably that I’ve been drunk, hung over, or just not in a hurry to get to work.

He must bring out the better part in people. Oh, the power of a crush.

But the problem is this: he’s my neighbor. I’ve lived in my building for three years now, and have had some interesting experiences attempting to date my neighbors, or when they tried to date me.

The first happened two months after I moved in, when a 3 am fire alarm sent the entire building outside. The guy across the hall from me eyed me in my baseball hat. He was fully dressed, in a pressed oxford shirt.

“I was sleeping naked,” he said. “This was the first thing I saw when I heard the alarm.”

A few days later, he later stopped me in the hallway swearing that he didn’t want to sleep with me, but he did want to “cuddle.”

When I declined his offer, he pressed further, saying he knew it’d “been awhile” for me.

It was really awkward, and I was relieved when he moved out a month later.

The following year, I spotted my hot next-door neighbor at a resident party. I’d seen him in-passing many times, drooling over his large muscles once I got into the safety of my apartment.

After the party, I drunkenly stumbled down the hall, and placed a Post-It on his door, instructing him to “Tweet me.”

I’m such a class act, I know.

He followed orders, and a few days later, I found myself in his apartment around 4 am. He was on his guitar and I was swooning.

If there was one guy I regret not sleeping with, it’s him. They always say it’s the things you didn’t do…

But dating a neighbor is risky. If things go south, you’re locked into a lease. Trust me, it’s not really fun when the hot neighbor sees you ordering enough takeout for four, and it’s just for you, on a Friday night.

Of course, if things do work out, talk about convenience. A quick walk gets you to their front door, and a tap on the wall (or a pebble toss) can get their attention – technology be damned!

I suppose every dating situation has its own list of risks, but I put the neighbor-date under the “shit where you eat” category; not a great idea. So, I told myself to keep my elevator crush to just that: a crush.

And then, as I was heading out the other night, the elevator doors opened and there he was. He was wearing blue Top-Siders, and there was a brunette standing beside him.

That’s the heartbreaking thing about crushes; sometimes there’s not even a choice to make.

Read more about Holly’s crushes on her blog, TheBitterLemon.com.

 

Comments

Follow us

Don't be shy, get in touch. We love meeting interesting people and making new friends.

Most popular

X