Last night I was walking home after having dinner with a friend of mine. As I began to walk up the steps of the brownstone in which I live, I saw one of my next-door neighbors standing on the stoop of the adjacent brownstone, smoking. He said hi, and I said hi. “How are you?” he said. “Good, how are you?” I said. I’ve lived in my apartment for a year and a half, but for some reason none of our interactions had ever progressed past this. I hadn’t even known his name or anything about him.

But last night the conversation continued. For some reason he actually introduced himself and told me his name, and I told him mine. I asked him which apartment in the brownstone was his, and he told me that he and his partner actually owned the whole building and lived on the three main floors, with tenants renting the basement. I had seen both men before, but I had assumed their building was divided into apartments like mine is, and although they’d both seemed kinda gay, I hadn’t thought to assume that they lived together, let alone owned the whole building.

Then he invited me in for a drink and a tour.

I walked into a beautiful townhouse. I saw a renovated kitchen and a little den in the back that had skylights. The partner was there, and I got introduced. They poured me some red wine. Food was cooking on the stove. They’d just returned from 10 days in London and were trying out a Jamie Oliver recipe: salmon wrapped in prosciutto, with some lentils and spinach on the side. It smelled delicious. They were expecting their gay friend from around the corner. He soon showed up — a middle-aged British man, who apparently has a partner as well. They’d all gone to London together, or something.

I drank wine, and much delightful conversation ensued. I decided to leave before they began eating, so as not to cause any awkwardness, as there were only three pieces of salmon and I’d already had dinner. But before I left, I gave them my number. After all, you can never know too many affluent, fabulous gay couples, right?

I walked down their front steps, took about four steps along the sidewalk, and then walked up the steps of my building, laughing at my good fortune and at myself.

It’s so typical of me to live next door to such people for a year and a half and not know it.
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