Love thy neighbor…

What should we do when someone wears out their welcome? A friend of mine is currently struggling with a space invader. He has a friend who loves to stop by unannounced. This used to be OK, but lately it’s become a daily habit. My friend is threatening to develop a nasty habit himself — rudeness. He’s dropped subtle hints, then not-so-subtle hints. Neither has worked. It’s not like he can hide from this friend — he lives right next door.

I told him to be direct — just tell him that you need some time to yourself. I got an interesting reaction. I guess some guys have a hard time telling other guys to go away. Next, I suggested that he put a “closed” sign on his door when he doesn’t feel like having company. He thought about this for a moment, but then decided his neighbor would think it was a joke. He also explained that just because he doesn’t want this guy over every day, it doesn’t mean that others aren’t welcome. My friend’s current girlfriend is beyond (way beyond) irritated with the situation.

Then I remembered my own experience with an overly friendly “know no boundaries” neighbor. It was many years ago...and in a different hood. My face actually turned red as I remembered far too many details — details I had tried hard to forget. This was one piece of trash I thought I left at the curb a long time ago. Apparently it got into the recycle bin by mistake. Somewhat alarmed at my flushed appearance, my friend asked me if I was okay. I assured him that I was, but asked him to get me a drink. I told him that I might have a solution to his problem.

As I thought of the time spent in my old neighborhood, it seemed like yesterday...and I flinched. I love where I live now. I always say that my current home is worth a lot more than market value because of my neighbor — my wonderful, beautiful, considerate, respectful, and genuinely nice neighbor. My husband and I live on a corner and only have one house next to our home. There are no houses across the street , or directly below us. In fact, there are only 89 homes in the entire community. This isn’t by accident. We purposely sought out a home that afforded as much privacy as possible. Why? No deep, dark secrets here. We were scarred survivors of the “know no boundaries” neighbor syndrome. We swore that we would never fall into that quagmire again.

Let’s get back to my old hood, so I can throw this away once and for all. We met our “friendly” neighbor two weeks before our move-in day. At first, we were delighted with how friendly he was. After two years, we had another opinion — which we kept to ourselves. We didn’t share our thoughts with each other, or our friendly neighbor for way too long. Everything was fine for the first year. We were friendly, but not too friendly. About a year after we moved into this house, the wife of this friendly guy started working further away from home. After a few weeks she tired of her five hour daily commute. During the week, she began staying with a friend who lived close to her job. Her husband (truly a nice guy in smaller doses) found himself with a lot of free time on his hands. He was lonely, and he didn’t like to be alone — ever. He loved to cook and invited us over often. This was nice, hospitable, neighborly and enjoyable in the beginning. We also reciprocated in kind. Oh what a tangled web we wove. After a few short months, I felt as if we were joined at the hip. It became awkward if my husband and I wanted to dine alone, as this neighbor would look over the fence and see that our grill was warming up. He’d call out to keep the coals going and that he was on his way to throw his steak on with ours. All too soon, he progressed to the “come on over unannounced” stage. I see now that this is where we should have nipped this friendly neighbor in the bud. Alas, we did not. Eventually, this really nice, truly friendly, great guy neighbor bypassed knocking on our front door, or ringing the bell. He would saunter around to the backyard with drink in hand, come in the sliding glass door uninvited, sit down and make himself comfortable. The more comfortable he got, the more uncomfortable it was for me. I yearned for some down time from this friendly neighbor. I also longed for a little together time with my husband. I never expressed this to anyone. I let it go because I was working long hours and I was rarely home. I thought this gave my husband some company while I was off dealing with one deadline or another. I felt selfish resenting this neighbor’s intrusion, so I said and did nothing.

While I was busy not communicating with my husband about this issue, he was busy not communicating with me. He didn’t have any particular reason for not communicating with me, other than he’s just your average guy bear when it comes to expressing himself — especially if it might lead to confrontation. Bottom line: My husband was even more miserable with the situation than I was. He missed his space and just wanted to lie around on the sofa once-in-awhile doing whatever guys do when they lie around. He also missed our alone time. I found out later that our friendly neighbor started running out to greet him as he pulled into the driveway each evening after work. My husband couldn’t even get out of his truck before he had company for the evening.

How did my husband and I finally end up on the same page...and talk about this issue? Or rather, what made my husband finally fess up and deal with our loss of privacy? It involved nudity. Mine. One Saturday morning, I realized that the undies I wanted to wear were in the laundry room downstairs. Since my husband was at the hardware store, I made the decision to dash downstairs in the nude. No one was home for goodness sake, so off I went. I remember feeling a little thrill at the freedom, however momentary...and it was momentary. Yep, you know where this is going. I wasn’t alone. That’s right...the neighbor was coming in through the back sliding glass door at the same moment my husband was coming into the house through the garage. I was stuck in the middle. Talk about an awkward threesome. As I frantically ran for cover, my up-to-this point patient husband finally started communicating — at the top of his lungs. I don’t know if it was my embarrassment that set him off, or his “oh so sophisticated” male thought process telling him that if not for the neighbor’s untimely intrusion, that he might have capitalized on the moment. As I ran up the stairs, I heard him say something about the front door, calling first or at least knocking. I remember thinking that the two’s company and three’s a crowd remark was over the top, but I was not about to but in — pun intended.

Well…our reluctance to not deal with this overly friendly and drop in anytime neighbor really paid off. Now we had an “oh so not friendly at all” neighbor living right next door. He was offended and refused to look at my husband or me ever again. This was fine with me, as I was still embarrassed about our too close for comfort Saturday morning ménage a trois — which in French, literally means “household of three.” Wow...bet you were thinking I meant something else entirely.

You may also wonder how this story could possibly help my friend with his similar neighbor problem. It's simple. I told him to do what we did. We moved.

Dedicated to all those suffering from the “know no boundaries” neighbor syndrome. "Knock-knock. Who's there? Your neighbor. Your neighbor who? Your neighbor who never knocks silly!"

© 2006 Teresa G. Franta