Well If You Must Know

I think our deaf neighbors are always up; the noise coming from that apartment never stops. I wake up at 7a and there's noise. I go to bed at 4a and there's noise. The whole time in between, there's noise. Why are their kids running up and down the stairs at one in the morning? Why is the dad yelling at their noisy dog like a drunken fool in the middle of the afternoon? I simply do not understand those people, or how they could always be so damn noisy.

The housemate was out again getting drunk last night, and didn't come in until around 10a (I was asleep, and didn't wake til 11:30a when my bladder forced me to get up). I've become quite used to spending most of my day alone, seeing him for sometimes not even 30 minutes in a 24 hour period. Which is fine by me, of course. At first, it's odd, being all alone when you're used to someone being around, but you get used to it. So he's spending a lot of nights out and weekends away, and I'm getting run of the apartment. That means that I get to play my "super happy girly music" and "weirdo Japan dude music" as loud as I want (with respect for the neighbor's of course, haha). Hey, I'm adaptive. This is good.

He, on the other hand, is suddenly becoming quite confused regarding my social activities. At my previous job, I generally got off at 7p. Occasionally, I met up with Star or Gem afterward or went over to my mom's, and didn't come home until 10p. I could always tell he wanted to ask where I was, who I was with — I think he was too afraid of the answer though. I've pulled a couple of recent all-nighters at friends' houses and wouldn't come in til afternoon the next day. And he'd be sitting on the couch watching TV, never asking where, or who, or even if I had a good evening.

I'll admit, my sadistic man-hating side does enjoy watching his inner turmoil as he ponders through all the possibilities of my activities.

Was I out at a bar, flirting it up and laughing around a pool table, drinking a stout some other man bought me? And did I go home with him, is that why my clothes are the same as yesterday? And did I fuck him every way of Friday? Kneeling coyly in front of his solid form, did I lavish his cock with my tongue and love the feel of his hand tangled in my hair as he used my mouth as a receptacle for his semen?

No, of course not.

Not that I wouldn't, mind you; it's just a lack of opportunity — or request. But I'm sure that's what he thinks, nonetheless, unless of course I tell him what I was really up to. And so the game began again today, as I mentioned that I'd see him tomorrow as he was on his way out the door to band practice.
"Tomorrow?" That brought him back inside, sitting on the arm of a chair.
"Yeah, tomorrow. I'm going out tonight, remember? You'd wanted to make plans, but I couldn't, because I already had some." Oh yeah, those plans, details unmentioned.
"So, what's going on tonight?"
"Oh," I replied, "just a show at that bar downtown. Really awesome band."
"Ah." I can tell he hates that I can go to bars when he can't. "Right then. Well, have fun."
"I will." I replied, as the door shut behind him.

Not that I want to hurt the poor boy, of course. But he's just so easy to torment. At least he's managed to refrain from asking if I've engaged in any lesbianic activities with my friends on these nights out. But again, I don't think he really wants to know the answer.