Photo courtesy of Lou Murphy
There you are, sitting in your dorm in Palladium, UHall, Gram, or perhaps even Lafayette. You’re simply enjoying the new heat wave as you gaze lovingly outside the window. Suddenly, your eye drifts to the balcony of the building across the street. You see him. Your neighbor.
You know he has blinds because you can see them, yet he refuses to use them this late at night. He prefers the wild darkness to the privacy of a shut-out apartment. The polluted stars are his inspiration for the acts he’s about to commit.
It started out innocent enough; one night you were just talking with some friends around the wooden table NYU has so graciously afforded you, then it happened. Your friend glanced beyond the screen and saw your neighbor valiantly thrusting his throbbing member into an unknown character from the play you’ve come to call “Dicky’s Dong.” You could’ve been more creative, but you were about three glasses of wine in and talking about how your friend from LSP wants to talk about Plato a bit too much. Your friend alerted the party to your neighbors extracurricular activity and now it’s become a routine thing to sit in that same spot in your dining area and watch him make sweet love.
So here you are. Watching.
You’ve become a voyeur and it worries you. Is it okay to watch your neighbor partake in a threesome with a man in his early 30s who already has gray hair and a woman who is clearly a sophomore from your cultures and contexts class? It’s a question you just don’t know how to ask a friend. So I’m here to tell you that it’s fine. Because your neighbor already knows you’re watching.
The signs have always been there, you just haven’t picked up on them yet. Do you remember when he came out on his balcony and lit up a cigarette as you fumbled to find a book to pretend you were studying? He took a long drag from his post-coital cigarette as he glanced back into your window and grinned. That might as well have been a standing ovation for his opening night on Broadway.
Don’t be down on yourself, we all have our kinks. There are those of us who like to be choked, handcuffed, dominated, surrounded by rubber, spanked, and touched by balloons. But you’re specifically a voyeur. You don’t think it’s too serious; it’s not like you watch every night. Yet here you are every Thursday night at nine, sitting in just the right position to watch your neighbor as he attempts to ascend to the sexual pantheon.
Trust me, he knows.
The signs are easy since you’re an amateur, a hobbyist at best; you lean too forward in your chair, you have snacks prepared as if you were in a movie theater, and you always flinch slightly when he glances in your direction.
He’s experienced. He’s had an audience before and knows exactly what you’re frantic scrambling for a piece of lint in your couch means. Your neighbor doesn’t want you to stop though; he wants you to enjoy his performance. So each Thursday night he tries to change it up.
Have you really never noticed how he gives you a thumbs up when he and his guest partner change positions? What about the way he whispers into his partner’s ear and they begin to stare at you? Really? I mean, come on. He’s having sex on a couch in his living room with the blinds open and you’ve got a suspicious pair of binoculars. He clearly knows you’re watching him.
There you are getting a free show and you don’t even provide positive feedback. Your neighbor doesn’t even ask for anything in return while you indulge yourself. He just wants you to rate him on Yelp! and you haven’t even given him that. You shouldn’t be ashamed of your sexuality, only your consumer behavior.
This article is meant to be satirical in nature