We have lived in this house for almost 7 months now. We kinda keep to ourselves, and really have only spent time with a few of our new neighbors. I’m not investing much time and effort into this place because, frankly, we don’t want to be here for any longer than we have to be.
I usually have the living room blinds open during the day. It’s too dark in here if I don’t do that. Honest, that’s the only reason I keep them open. I don’t do it to spy on folks, like JB has become inclined to believe…
There is a woman (no idea how old she is, I would guess mid 20’s) that lives across the street. All we were told when we moved in was that she was single, quiet, and kept to herself most of the time. After we’d been here a few weeks, I noticed another vehicle occasionally coming and going from her house. In the last few months, that vehicle is there more often than not…so my nosy neighbor guess is that the person had moved in with her.
Now here’s the funny part. For the last 7 months, I have truly believed that other person was a guy. A short guy, but still a guy. Dressed like a guy, walked like a guy, had a guyish haircut…why wouldn’t I think that?
Recently, I saw the guy come home, and then come back outside to mow the lawn. He had changed clothes.
The guy was wearing a halter tank top and had a tramp stamp tattoo.
I couldn’t help it, I stood at the window and stared. My son noticed what I was looking at, and said, “I thought that was a boy!” I muttered that I thought so too, but apparently we were wrong, because I definitely saw boobs. I finally just closed the blinds because my son kept running to the window to look out.
Later that night, the whole family was coming home from I forget where…and as we were turning onto our street, I saw the mysterious person outside. In a different halter tank top. This is the conversation that followed:
Me: “See? That is so not a dude!”
JB: “It’s her boyfriend, Stacey.”
Me: “But how do you KNOW? How do you really know? What dude wears halter tops like that to mow the lawn? How many guys do you know have tattoos there?”
Monkey: “They’re LESBIANS!”
Me and JB: Heads whirl around like the freakin’ Exorcist…we say almost in unison: “How do YOU know what lesbians are?”
Monkey: “They are girls that like to dress up like boys.”
Me: “Okay. Sure.”
JB: “Your mama needs to stop acting like Granny Ollie and getting all up in people’s business…”
Now, I’m not even gonna go there. The man has compared me to his grandmother. Last week he was calling me crazy, and this week I’m nosy grandma. And my 9 year old has a slightly skewed definition of lesbian in his head, and for now…I’m oddly okay with that.