Being Neighborly

We had a house full.

The other day we had an unexpected guest. Invited in by my youngest who assumed he was a neighbor (which he kind of is but one of those you steer clear of), she let him in and sat him in the living room. 

She comes to my bedroom door and lets me know we have a guest and that he may or may not be drunk. I hesitantly go into the room. Look at the man on the couch and, with reluctance, say “Hi Jeff, what’s up with you?”  He lives a few streets over, has addiction and mental illness problems, and is getting up there in age. He doesn’t actually know me but inferred to my girl that he did. 

He starts talking a little disjointed, a little offensive. He asked my girl to help him find someone on his phone. He couldn’t remember her name but he knows she’s homeless. He tells us that he wants to meet up with her so he can give her the spanking her daddy never gave her. 😳 What he wants is for my girl to go on his TINDER account and find the gal he’s been “talking” to. She hands him back the phone and says she can’t help.

We spin the conversation to wrap it up and eventually my daughter in law, who is an occupational therapist, helps him get up from the couch and head slowly for the door. At the door he starts to reminisce about a rather sad childhood as the freezing outside air rushes in and my costly warm air heads out. He ponders little heartbreaks, he shares how his mother disliked him and, finally, with the help of his cane, he heads home in the cold rain.

More than just a little heartbreaking but also unpredictable and sometimes predatory. I think I’ll keep my good boundaries on this one.