For four weeks, the routine was the same. Every Tuesday, as the sun dipped below the horizon, a nondescript sedan would pull up to the curb directly in front of my living room window. The engine would cut out, the lights would dim, and the driver would sit there, unmoving, until exactly 10:01 PM.
I noticed a car parked outside my house every Tuesday night for a month.
At first, I thought it was a fluke. Then I thought it was a private investigator. By week three, I was convinced I was the subject of a true-crime documentary that hadn’t been filmed yet. My curtains were closed, but I spent the entire evening peering through the cracks, my phone dialed to 91- and waiting for the final digit.
Finally, on the fourth Tuesday, my adrenaline outweighed my fear. I grabbed a heavy flashlight, marched down the driveway, and tapped aggressively on the driver’s side glass.
I finally went out to confront the guy.
The window hummed as it lowered. I expected a villain; instead, I found a guy in a hoodie who looked like he’d just been caught reading someone else’s diary.
He rolled down his window, looking embarrassed.
“Look, man,” I started, “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but—”
“‘I’m sorry,’” he interrupted, his voice cracking slightly. “‘I don’t have cable, and your TV is huge.’“.
I blinked. “My… TV?”
“‘I’ve been watching “The Bachelor” through your window,’” he confessed, gesturing toward my house, where the glow of a rose ceremony was clearly visible through the glass. “Your living room is like an IMAX for the neighborhood. I just… I needed to know if Susan got the hometown date.”
The tension in my chest evaporated, replaced by a strange sense of hospitality. I looked at the car, then back at my front door. It felt wrong to make a man watch the most dramatic season finale ever from the curb in a silver sedan.
I invited him in.
His name is Gary. We’ve watched the last three episodes together on the couch, complete with popcorn and wine. It turns out, we have a lot in common beyond our geographical proximity.
We’re rooting for the same contestant. And honestly? It’s much easier to judge people’s life choices when you have someone to do it with in high definition.