Who woulda thunk sex noises would be so soothing? (thread is much less dirty than title implies)

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

So here I am, in my apartment in Tampa Bay.

I’ve lived here for a few years now, but I was born and raised in New England, and the majority of my apartment dwelling experience has been in the general Boston area. As such, I have become accustomed to a certain baseline level of noise that comes from living in close proximity to a LOT of other people.

As an example, I’ll reminisce briefly about my last place up in Boston. The walls there were thin. Very thin. I’m talking about the wonder-if-the-thumbtack-I-used-to-hang-up-this-painting-is-jutting-into-my-neighbors’-living-room kind of thin. The practical offshoot of this is that everyone knew more than they ever possibly wanted to about the folks living next to them. My girlfriend and I had a fight? The neighbors knew. Guy next door went nuclear on a telemarketer? Yep, we heard it. Dude upstairs got a karaoke machine? Better goddamn believe we all sang Dobie Gray in our individual living rooms.

Anyway, the point is that I have become accustomed to random background noises from the people above, below, and/or next to me. And when I relocated to Tampa, those noises vanished. Nothing but crickets. And not even cricketS plural. ONE cricket. One cricket that chose the area outside my window as the place where he would sing his tragically unrequited love song. I have pitied him, yet I have hated him.

But now, suddenly, the situation has changed. It’s completely my fault. I was moving my refrigerator for some long overdue kitchen cleansing, and I accidentally smacked the thing into the outlet that held the fridge plug. Shatter, crash, boom, the outlet casing has broken, and now there is a sound conduit between my wall and that of my neighbors.

And, apparently, my neighbors have sex fairly often.

There are any number of reactions that people might have to this sort of knowledge. Some folks could care less. Some folks would be disgusted. Some folks would be intrigued. Some folks would be full on excited. What’s really interesting is that my reaction upon discovering all of this was none of these things. It was more that I felt more connected with the world around me. And there was something strangely comforting about it.

That’s all, that is the end of my story…

2

Well, hell then, son- you will be thrilled, THRILLED, with my very close neighbor’s five dogs, that bark constantly, all the fucking livelong day and night. I will trade you! They can’t possibly have sex as much as my neighbor’s dogs bark.

3

For a moment, I thought the ending was that you’d killed the cricket with the fridge and were now reduced to those “birdsong” white noise machines.

I wonder what your neighbors think of the noise of you making a sandwich while they are having sex.

4

I live in Bradenton. In an apartment. Howdy neighbor!

I’m definitely NOT the neighbor having copious amounts of sex, unfortunately.

My upstairs neighbor conducts water buffalo dance classes four times a week. He and his Olympic beer drinking team also practice regularly. Thank goodness they wait until 2-3 am before they start tossing their cans off the balcony.

And has sex on his squeaky bed. Thank og he has “maintainability” issues.

I’d trade that for your Cricket Sonata any day.