Your Next Door Neighbor Is Cheating! - a 5 Step Program

It's 2 AM again. My roommate has gone to bed already, and all is silent save for the quiet hum of the fan and the occasional snore from his bed. It's been a long night of drawing out chemicals—hexagons and pentagons fill my brain. Maybe it's time to head to bed. I do have class at 9 AM tomorrow.

(Why did I do this to myself? 9 AMs every day?)

I pull my door open with a heavy creak. The residential college is old and creaky door hinges are the last thing Maintenance is going to worry about. The flooding, broken washing machines, and cockroach infestation may be a more urgent issue.

The birds chirp at 4. Sometimes even 3:30 AM. So all is silent. My flip flops squeak as I make my way down the carpeted hall towards the communal bathroom. I may be sleep-deprived, but I'm certainly not going to sacrifice my dental hygiene for it. Always floss before going to bed, kids.

As I walk down the hall, I realize—my flip flops really aren't that obnoxiously squeaky. I stop. The squeaking continues.

1. Identify where the sound is coming from without getting caught.

I slip off my squeaky (not that squeaky) flip-flops and pick them up gently. I walk stealthily on the balls of my feet. Thank god for carpeted floors. I stop between two doors. One is a mechanical room, most likely with heating and ventilation pipes, and the other is the room of some girl that I've seen around. I stand in front of these two doors. Where is the squeaky sound coming from? I put my ear to the mechanical room door. The mechanical low grumble coming from the room makes it hard to find the OoS (Origin of Squeaking). Maybe it's a loose pipe, or a rusted connection? Or maybe there's a mechanical pro-

"OH BABY KEEP GOING"

Never mind. She's having sex.

I sigh. This is what Uni life is like, I guess. It's what it was like in the movies. I, still barefoot, trudge towards the bathroom again.

Wait.

Isn't that girl, (let's call her... Shannon. I don't know any Shannons)—isn't Shannon dating somebody? I'd heard that Billy (let's call Shannon's boyfriend Billy—I don't know any of those either) was already home for the summer.

Ooh la la.

Nope.

I should mind my own business. Go brush your teeth, floss, and go to bed before the birds start chirping.

Damn it, I really want to know though.

2. Don't give in to curiosity.

Fine. I brush my teeth. And think about other things. Hexagons and pentagons, mostly. I'm glad they're in my head. As long as they stick around until the end of the exam. But alas, of course, as hormonal, horny boys do, my mind eventually drifts towards sex.

Sex is nice. Imagine having sex. It's great. All naked and doing... sex things. And finishing. Ahhh... And then cuddling in bed together and saying stupid, cute things. No, no, if you finish, you can't just cuddle. You have to clean up. Wash off the... various fluids. Pee to avoid a UTI. All that good stuff. Which means...

Oh no.

Oh no. No, no.

I spit out the toothpaste-water solution from my mouth. I'm standing in a communal bathroom. They're going to come in here to clean up at any minute.

Almost comically on cue, I hear Shannon's door open in the hallway. (I'm guessing it was Shannon's. There's no way of knowing; they're all creaky.)

Shit.

I can't go outside now. They were obnoxiously loudly "squeaking" and if I see them right now, that would be awkward. Especially because I know Billy, and they probably know that I know Billy, and definitely about Shannon and Billy. And Billy's probably not in town, and I definitely don't want to be an eyewitness to this.

It's a co-ed bathroom, so it could either be Shannon or mystery-man-X, or even worse, both! Think, come on, think!

3. Lose all common sense and semblance of normal human behavior and hide.

In hindsight, I really should've just locked myself in a toilet stall.

Or just nod and walk by.

Instead of doing either of these normal human actions, I grabbed my toothpaste and toothbrush and jumped into one of two shower stalls. After a brief moment of hesitation, I turned the water on. My reasoning then was that it wouldn't be convincing otherwise and one of them might accidentally try to use the shower stall I was in. What I didn't realize though was this—water is wet.

So here I am—being non-consensually drenched in cold shower water, holding my toothbrush and toothpaste, dressed in what used to be really comfortable, dry pajamas.

I guess I'm showering now. I might as well turn the heat up.

Ah. Much better.

I hear the door open and someone takes the shower stall next to me. I listen carefully. It's definitely only one of them. I guess they're taking turns cleaning up.

I let out a whistle—both to sound a little bit more convincing and because the hot water was starting to actually feel kind of relaxing.

Enough. I turned off the water and walked out of the shower. Dripping wet. I looked like a wet dog caught out in the rain. I didn't even have a towel.

I took a wad of paper towels (Sorry Eco-Club) and tried to dry myself off, at least my hair, as best as I could. Ugh. I guess I'll go back to my room and towel off and go to bed.

I was about to leave when I noticed a pink towel on the bathroom counter.

4. Give in to curiosity.

This part is kind of illegal. If not illegal, at least a breach of personal space.

I went over to the towel and peeked underneath. I don't know what I was looking for. What did I expect? A signed photograph of mystery-man-X? Perhaps his social security number along with framed photographs of infidelity?

No. Instead I found underwear. Blue American Apparel boxer briefs.

Ah. At least it wasn't Shannon in the shower. That would make it a lot more creepy. (It's already really creepy. 2 AM me clearly isn't best me.)

I really want to know who mystery-man-X is now. Even if I don't confront Shannon or Billy about it, I just want to put a face to his identity. But I really can't just sit in front of his shower stall whistling James Brown's "I Feel Good" until he comes out.

Might as well give up and go to bed. Birds will start singing soon.

5. Go back on everything you just said and waylay him and loiter around the corner at the end of the hall and wait for him to come out and try to see him without him seeing you.

^That. I did that.

I stood there around the corner playing games on my phone. My record on Fruit Ninja Arcade is now 1663 instead of 1552. All thanks to mystery-man-X and his long post-sex shower routines.

I was about to give up and head back to my room when I heard the creak of the bathroom door. (All the doors creak—it's quite annoying.)

I poke my head around the corner. He walks out. It's him, Mr. Blue-American-Apparel-Boxer-Briefs-Mystery-Man-X.

Turn around, turn around, turn around, show me who you are.

As if he could hear my thoughts, he turns around.

It's Billy.

It's fucking Billy.