The Full Monty

I was going to tell a story about a Full Monty I witnessed last night, but something that happened on my way to work this morning reminded me of something that happened on the way home from work yesterday so I must first get those out of the way. They are blocking the naked guy story in my head.

This morning I was, as often I am, cat-called. At the point in my walk that it happened, on Broome around Mulberry, most of the guys are handymen of sorts: electricians, AC, plumbers, etc. Not Chinese frozen food delivery men as found on Broome around Eldridge. One of them said "Hey sexy, like your tattoo". How original! His friend, however, took it a step further. Saying "It's on FI-uhhh!!!". You know that band Electric Six? You know that song "Danger! High Voltage!"? You know how the singer says "Don't you wanna know how we keep starting fires?", but "fires" sounds like "fi-uhhs"? Well that's what it sounded like. Made me smile. Thanks, you chauvinist pricks!

Yesterday's walk home was arguably even more interesting. I was almost home- standing on the median in the middle of Allen at Broome- when I saw a man riding a bike northbound on Allen. It was a totally random, normal sight to see. He appeared to be a pretty regular looking guy. He crossed over from the northbound traffic side to the southbound side (I think). As he was passing by me he spit (spit!) in my direction, and laughed evilly. Why?? What did I do to deserve that? I was standing there so innocently! Just waiting for a green light to cross. No biggie. Just standing there. Not staring or anything, just looking around. And he spit. At me. ME.

So anyway, onto the grand finale. Last night after I got home from a meh date, I sat down next to my window to have a cigarette while I talked to Becky on the phone. I sit by my window frequently, even when a cigarette is not involved. I like to look out on the world. There's an apartment across the street that I can often see into, during the day and at night, whenever. A few days ago I saw a couple canoodling in there, but nothing hardcore. Last night, however, I got a bit of a show that made me wish I'd gotten home earlier. As I stared down the length of my cigarette while lighting it, my attention was drawn to the apartment. Their venetian blinds, though down all the way, were not shut. There was a woman in a slip or something sitting on a bed. In front of her, facing my direction, a man was standing, in the buff. I had to really stare for a moment to believe it. He was most certainly naked. They were talking. He was still naked. They kept talking. I kept watching. He adjusted himself. Finally he started to put clothes on. He got completely clothed, boxers, pants, shirt. I wondered if he didn't live there, if he just came over for a bit of the old in out. Then he changed, completely into another outfit, who knows why? All I know is that I missed the sex.