Yesterday, I woke up and baked a cake for my cute neighbor. I smothered the cake with Nutella and stopped short of adding the crushed almonds. What if he was allergic to almonds? What if he was allergic to hazelnuts? Oh well, too late.
I went on and made myself pretty. I put on a very colorful top that men often compliment me for. I got out and walked down the hallway. Which apartment was his? I wasn’t quite sure. I knew he lived on the side across from me down the hall. I was able to narrow it down to 2 doors. I knew exactly what i was going to say. I rehearsed it several times. I was ready for this. I knocked on the first door. I knocked once. I knocked twice. Nothing. I listened. There was no sign of life on the other side of the door.
I walked back to my apartment disappointed. Maybe he went out. Maybe he moved out. Maybe he died inside the apartment. Nah! That was crazy but pheww! I just saved myself from going out with a total stranger. I don’t even know his name for Christ’s sake. I know nothing about him. What if he was a rapist? A serial killer?
A few minutes later, I heard someone in the hallway. Maybe that was him. I had to get back out there but I didn’t want to look weird by just opening my door and peaking out. So I picked up an empty plastic bottle and pretended that I was going to the trashcan on our floor. Turns out that it was someone else. I walked to the trashcan to toss my water bottle. I wonder what this person thought about me. “Doesn’t she own a trash can?” or “What a neat freak? or “Who’s she trying to fool?” This was ridiculous. I could not spend the entire day throwing away my trash one by one. I should wait until night time and knock on the door again.
9 pm came. I picked up another item of trash. This time, it was the small box that my moisturizer came in. I looked down the hall to see if I could see lights peaking from under the doors. Nothing. I proceeded to the trashcan. I walked very close to the doors so I could hear what was happening on the other side. I heard a man’s voice behind the door that I knocked on earlier. Behind the second door, there was music playing. So he didn’t move. He wasn’t dead. I tossed my single item of trash.
Walking back I slowed my pace to get a better listen, just to make sure. Music. I could not picture him listening to this type of music. The man voice must belong to him. It sounded young. Who was he talking to? Now, I was moving in slow motion. I wanted to listen for other voices. Nothing. It was just him rambling on about something that I could not quite get. I could not just stand there. I moved on to my own door. Who was he talking to? He has a girlfriend. That’s it. He must have a girlfriend. The hot girl whom I saw walking to the elevator must be his girl. Our building has a policy that studios can only sleep 1. He rented a one bedroom because he wanted to sleep 2. Why else would a young single man rent a one bedroom?
I got into my apartment relieved that I didn’t knock on the door while he was having a conversation with his girl. The cake. Now I had to eat it. This was bad. I can’t keep on having a cake a day. But I had no choice. Everyone knows that you should not refrigerate Nutella. I grabbed the cake and a fork. I ate and plotted my next move.
I was sure that he had a girlfriend but I had no proof. To avoid making things more awkward, I would just have to wait until I find myself and his cute self stuck together in that small elevator. I didn’t know how long this would take. It could take forever. But no, no, not really. My 365 day of happiness challenge includes a yard sale for this week. This is a perfect excuse to knock on his door and say, “Hey, I’m having a yard sale.” This way I will be able peak into his apartment and see who’s around. This way, I will know if he’s single. This way I could lure him into my apartment on the pretext of seeing if there’s anything he’d like to buy. This way I could have chocolate Nutella almond cake laying around for sampling. This way I would find out if he likes it. This way I would know if I should bake him another one. This way I would know if I should ask him out.
By the time I was done making these plans, I was also done eating his cake. No more baking for me. At least not until next Saturday. This adventure is turning into a total caper but I’m so excited because “one day, maybe next week, I gonna meet ya. I’ll meet ya! I’ll meet ya-ah!”
Image source: https://pixabay.com/en/one-way-street-decisions-opportunity-1991865/