To My Horrible Ex Upstairs Neighbor

Dear A,

If you're reading this, you'll know who you are. No one else will, except maybe me, my wife, and your boyfriend (if that dude is even still in the picture). I've taken great care to leave any personally identifiable information out of this, and people will only know I am speaking to you if you make yourself known. Now, to the meat of the issue:

Thank you for being such a terrible neighbor. There was something special about you, but I can't quite place what it was specifically. That's why I've decided to write it down. Maybe the public forum can help us out here.

I'll always miss the way you stomped around at all hours of the day and night. I don't know if it was the fact you were well over 200lbs, or that you regularly seemed to be stomping the grapes for your wine addiction on your kitchen floor, but somehow my new home just feels empty without the echoes of your inconsiderate ways ringing through the halls.

The cork floors which you claimed to be noise buffering are technically not up to condominium code, and with you owning your unit and all, that could come with some hefty fines and remodel costs. It would surely be a shame if someone notified the property agencies...

I'll also miss you spitefully blowing Marijuana smoke into the vents, loudly and drunkenly conversing with all of your doors and windows open, and leaving your dog's poop in the lawn shared by over 40 people. Thank you for singlehandedly ensuring the job security of the groundskeeper, btw. You're a class act.

Most of all, I'll miss being harassed by you and your boyfriend at our local gym. You know the one that was a 5 minute walk if you took your time, but the two of you regularly took separate cars? Remember the one time I had my car as I was coming home from work, and your boyfriend parked right next to me? Remember how he waited outside the gym for me after, and when I ignored him he sprinted past, moved his car, then you guys stood behind my parking place, blocking my exit, and made out in my rear view mirror? By the way, he has one of the most effeminate runs I have ever seen. I'm saying it because it's true and it would piss him off.

He used to idle that same car undernear our unit for up to 30 minutes at a time. I easily could have let it go, because I love muscle cars, but seriously? A Ford Fairlane with an automatic transmission? Who supes that up? Frankly I'm disappointed that you both made such a point of keeping myself, my wife, and our newborn baby awake for so long with such a sub-par vehicle. Had it been a 66 Chevelle with a 3 speed manual, I would have told my son to keep it down and come down to shake What's-His-Name's hand. But no, he idled that flaccid wang so long it rumbled dishes out of our cabinets. How like him to have so much power but no concept of how to use it. Al sizzle and no steak, that guy.

Ah... memories.

I digress... I almost made the biggest mistake of my life. I almost bought the unit below you. In that area, property values tend to trend downward. Not only that, it has an HOA and a high crime rate. Mostly violent crimes, too. I guess you were so busy acting like you're better, more educated, and so morally superior to everyone, you forgot to actually develop those qualities. It's an honest mistake. No hard feelings.

In case you read this, I want you to know something:

You may have your PHD, but you are stupid with money, you're unkind to people, and you're a terrible neighbor. I also want you to know I bought a house 4x the size of your condo for $100,000 less. It's also in one of the safest, nicest, highest rated school districts and neighborhoods in the country. I watch the sunset over treetops and have a massive backyard with nice neighbors, quiet streets, and beautiful greenery. Enjoy your gunshot ridden hellhole and your beer muscled fucboi over 50 in his poor man's fakeass Fast and the Furious 2 muscle car. He can think he's Dom all day, but we all know he's just a short fat Jesse.

I didn't want this to be so personal, and I typically don't like to gloat or retaliate. That's when you mess with me, but you fucked with my wife and my kid. For that, I hope every bit of bad that happens to you affects you as deeply as it possibly can. I forgive you for how you mistreated me. Hell I'm used to no sleep after serving in the military. But understand that when it comes to my family, I have a very particular set of skills: Bureaucracy.

Oh yes, I know how to navigate the toughest of government systems. The only translatable skills the combat arms gave me were leadership, tolerating abusive managment, and navigating intentionally confusing government agencies.

I could full send every single local code enforcement and zoning agency you at the city, county, and possibly state level depending on how much you fucked with after you bought that place. I could make your already extravagant lifestyle of wine, drugs, fast food, and designer clothes a hell of a lot more expensive with a few phone calls and a handful of paperwork.

But in this case, I'm having a daughter, and I'm trying to be less vindictive. In case you read this, know that my kids saved your retirement. They saved your sanity. They saved your home. The best part of this is that that my son with never have to know how much of a bitch you and your boyfriend both are. Also, I now have another shining example of how I don't want my daughter to turn out: A bitter spinster who regrets at least half her life decisions and drowns them in substances because her existence has none.

Every night when you slip away to dreamland in your crossfaded stupor to the sound of 9mm rounds discharging on the highway, and the sweet sickly scent of your boy toy's beer farts, I want you to remember that your future is just a phone call away from being drastically upended by someone you assumed was too stupid to fight, and just gave up and moved. Sleep tight.