The guy downstairs from where I live really freaks me the fuck out. Apparently he’s got a pretty bad case of agoraphobia and rarely ever leaves the comfort of his apartment. Every time I go out and get into my car which I park pretty much across from his patio doors, I see him peeking out of the blinds at me and he will stay looking at me until I leave the parking lot.
This past weekend, I went and got myself a new chef’s knife for my pseudo-chefly duties. While on my way to the store, I noticed the guy from downstairs was sitting in his idling car and was staring right at me. He would not let go of his stare no matter what I did. That shit was really freaking me the hell out so I started staring at him to see how he liked it. Apparently, you’re not supposed to do that type of stuff to agoraphobics because they get very defensive. He got out of his car and kept on staring at me and I’m thinking this guy is going bust out a damn gun and shoot me dead. However, some weird type of instinctual testosterone-filled Latino male fight impulse (I swear it was like my body went into remote control mode or something) ran through me and I started gesture like I was making a fighting run at him and he got into that car so quick it wasn’t funny. I felt really bad that it happened, but he did stop staring at me which was a bigger comfort to me.
I asked the neighbor right across from him what the deal was with him and apparently it seems he’s a fairly well off guy financially who went through some rough stuff recently. The details are sketchy so she did not get into everything, but from what I hear he’s a real asshole and no one in the complex likes him, his wife left him, his kids outright disowned him, etc. He’s also too cheap to get the help he needs to overcome what he’s got so I can’t really feel bad for the guy. He knows he needs help, yet he doesn’t want to spend the money to get it.
Eh well, at least he stopped staring at me.