good neighbors

This story is difficult to tell. It's way too fresh, but it is the reason for this blog.

I have this funny next door neighbor, an old guy about my dad's age (75-ish). He lives with his daughter and granddaughter (who is my age). We chat over the fence a lot, but when the weather gets cold and the days get short, I don't see much of him. He's a complain-ey old coot with an opinion about everything. He's got good stories about the neighborhood and about his younger life as a world traveler.

He's having his hip replaced soon, and it's difficult for him to stand up for long stretches, so I feel bad about having to talk to him over the fence, because he winds up in pain from standing. A couple months ago he gave me a standing invite to come over for a drink. He alluded to some gross apple liquor the neighbor made, it sounded pretty chill. I kept not having time, and he goes to bed at 6pm or something, which makes it difficult to co-ordinate a time to hang out.

I was going to go over a few weeks ago, but didn't get home in time and he wasn't answering his phone anyway. I told my friend who was staying at my house about it, and he said "well, is this something I need to worry about?" I said no way, we're just hanging out.

Tonight I finally got it together to call him from work. He said we'd have to wait until his daughter left, I said why not 5:30 since that's the earliest I could be home from work anyway. After we got off the phone, that business about having to wait until his daughter left bugged me for a second. I ignored that weird feeling.

It's dark around here at 5:30. I rang his front doorbell, noting the windows were all dark, which is not unusual. I thought maybe he had blackout curtains on all the windows. Of course, the alternative explanation would be all the lights might be out.

He came to the door in his PAJAMAS! Nevertheless, I went in. He lives in a crazy old Victorian like I do, and I was interested to see the place, wondered how much it had been changed since it was built. I love old houses. However, I couldn't really get a good look because ALL THE LIGHTS WERE OUT!! There was a little nightlight on in the hall that stopped me from walking into anything. Anything like a wall, I mean. I was definitely walking into something.

He said to turn left, so I turned into the living room, which was completely dark. "No no," he said, "down the hall!" He opened the door to his bedroom which was also dark because it was only lit by a dim blue bulb!! I said "Look, what's going on here, this isn't what I had in mind," and yet I walked in. He said "oh now now, just make yourself comfortable," as he walked over and lay down on his bed! Fortunately, there was a chair over by the lamp, so I took that. He motioned that I should sit on the bed. "C'mon, make yourself comfortable!" "Oh, I'm fine here thanks."

Now, I shouldn't have taken that chair, I should have just gone home. This was completely out of the blue. He's not even a flirty old man, for crying out loud, he's just an old crotchety one! Yet there he was, reclining on the bed in flannel PJs, telling me I should be on the bed with him!

I figured if he tried anything I could kick him in the busted hip, and there were plenty of blunt objects at my disposal in the room. I'm young and fit, he's a broken down old man.

We chit chatted about this and that, the usual stuff we talk about in the yard: his fishing trips, excursions to other countries, etc.. The room was about 90F, typical for an old coot. Again he made with the "make yourself comfortable" and I replied in no uncertain terms, "look, if I made myself any more comfortable I would make myself very uncomfortable. You don't want to make me uncomfortable, do you?" He seemed to get this and it didn't come up again.

Any fly on the wall would have been a little confused, I think, by the situation. Obviously it was weird, but neither one of us was speaking any differently than usual. He was lying on the bed, inviting me to join him, and telling me the same stories about fishing as ever, in the same tone of voice. I made my feelings clear, but didn't get upset and didn't leave. None of this made any sense.

The situation was weird in the extreme. I didn't want to be rude and bolt, but I was constantly planning my escape. I ended up staying for 45 minutes and listening to his stories, which is why I was there in the first place. At 6:15, at the end of his tale about visiting Columbia in the 1980s, I said, "well, gotta hit the road, I'm meeting someone to fix my sink in a few minutes." He got up and let me out of his room, actually turned on the light in the kitchen and let me out the side door.

POST MORTEM
Now what? Well, I certainly won't be accepting any more invitations from that character, but I'll still shoot the shit with him in the driveway. I don't imagine he'll bring up this evening ever again, and I certainly won't, but he hasn't acted particularly predictable so far. For now I'm avoiding him.

What can be learned from this situation?

What were the signals I missed?

Obviously I should have listened to myself when I realized the comment about his daughter was weird.

Was there anything else that could have tipped me off?

Is it simply due to me being a young woman and him being a man that led to this ridiculous scene? If he were younger, I wouldn't have stuck around. I would have probably not knocked on the door of the dark house, and wouldn't have gone inside when I saw his outfit. Or is this man just old and off his fucking rocker?

Why did this go as far as it did? Nothing happened, nobody touched anyone, there was no inappropriate (really though, what is appropriate in this bizarre situation?) talk, no nudity, no violence nor threat thereof. But why did I stick it out and chat with him for a while? The entire time I was freaked out and staring at any of the 10 clocks in his room, waiting for a decent period to have passed so I could go.

I have a history of getting into tense situations.

This evening is, perhaps, a call to re-evaluate how I deal with weirdness and how I could better handle the unexpected. In retrospect, although I feel I did a good job of being completely clear about how I felt about his overtures, why didn't I just leave right away? I guess I didn't want things to be weird later (!). If I see him in the driveway tomorrow, I'm going to be ok with it. If I had left immediately when he opened the door to his bedroom, which I should have done, then I would probably always feel weird about seeing him. And I do see him a lot when the weather is nice.

And seriously, who invites a girl over, comes to the door in pajamas, and lets her into his dark bedroom? No drinks were offered, no music, nothing to set the tone besides the mood lighting. Not to suggest that any of those things would have made the situation any less weird, but they are kind of standard bachelor ploys. I can only imagine he hasn't had any interactions with women who are not prostitutes since he busted up with his wife twenty some years ago.

Anyway, I'm still freaked out. I'm going to have to watch some WonderWoman episodes to feel better. Some good fun pop women's lib in a cute outfit. It's nights like this that make me wish I had a roommate.

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