June 29 - Dear Neighbor

Dear neighbor,

Hi. My name is Jerry. I live in the building across the street.
We haven't met yet, but I'm pretty sure you've seen me before. In fact, that's why I'm writing to you now.
Actually, I've been meaning to get in touch with you for quite some time, but after what happened this morning I don't think I can put it off any longer. I think you know what I'm talking about, right?
If you'll allow me to be blunt, I'll come straight to the point. I wasn't masturbating, at least not when (I think) you saw me.
But even if I was (and I'm not admitting anything, ha ha!) I think I could be forgiven, don't you? After all, you looked good. Like, really good. Seriously, I don't think I've ever seen someone make hanging the laundry look so sexy. It was like an Aerosmith video. I mean, do you know of anyone else who does her laundry while wearing a halter top? If you do, give me her number! Ha ha.
Sorry, maybe we (you?) aren't ready to laugh about this yet. If so, that's understandable. To be honest, I'm not sure how I would feel if I looked across the street and (thought I) saw someone masturbating to me: Shocked? Probably. Alarmed? Maybe. Curious? Possibly. But maybe also a little bit flattered, too. Am I getting close?
Judging from your reaction this morning, I'd say probably not. And if that's the case, I feel bad. It wasn't my intention to make you uncomfortable.
And by the way, I may as well come clean. OK. Yes, I was giving myself the business. There, I said it. I admit it. Of course I was. Could masturbation possibly be mistaken for anything else? I'm guilty. Guilty, I tell you! I throw myself on the mercy of the court, your honor! Ha ha!
But I wasn't doing it to you, at least not at first. Who was I doing it to, you ask? I'll give you a clue: I'd just been watching Friends. (No, it wasn't David Schwimmer! LOL!) Give up? Believe it or not, it was Phoebe. I know she's not most people's first 'wank bank' choice, but that's never made sense to me. She's quirky and fun and completely un-self-conscious. I think she would be a very gentle and giving lover. Much better than Rachel or Monica, not that I would say no to either (or both?) or them. Hubba hubba!
But yeah, I was having my usual Phoebe Fantasy or the Phoeb-fant as I call it on my blog. Sparing you the details, it usually starts off with me comforting Phoebe after an especially ill-received gig at the coffee shop and then ends up with her "comforting me", if you catch my drift, and if you don't I tell you: I'm talking about sex. You know, "boning."
Anyway, it's a great fantasy, but it was a rerun (and so was the episode of Friends that inspired it). And don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with reruns. They get us through the evening, am I right? But sometimes they make me feel like I'm settling, like I'm not getting the most out of the experience. Do you ever feel the same way?
I'm guessing no, at least judging by how often you watch Murder, She Wrote. And yes, I know you're not watching the same episode over and over again, but let's not kid ourselves. That show is pretty formulaic. You may as well be watching the same episode, especially during seasons 3 and 4. I'm not sure which season you're on, though. My telescope is good, but (unfortunately!) it ain't that good : (
Anyway, my morning Phoeb-fant was off to a wonderful start, and I was feeling especially uninhibited, and I got swept up in the moment and that's how I ended up on the balcony, full Monty style.
And then, there you were. You and your laundry.
And I forgot all about the Phoeb-fant right away. There was just something sensual about the way you were hanging up your knee-high stockings and blouses. It got to me. I've never seen an older woman move like you before. Let me tell you, girl: You may have a walker, but that walker does not have you!
Anyway, I wouldn't presume to ask your forgiveness, but I hope that this letter will help you understand that I'm not just some perv that makes a habit out of masturbating to his neighbors while they hang up their laundry. Like I said, I just got caught up in the moment. I assure you I will try not to let it happen again.
And if I was wrong and you didn't actually see me masturbating, please disregard this letter.

Best,
Jerry