Scenes from the Stairwell

NN: Noisy Neighbor
M: Me

(Noisy Neighbor shouting from upstairs out his door while I’m on the stairwell throughout this entire conversation looking up at him)
NN: Hey shorty
M: Hey, whats up?
NN: What are you doing Friday?
M: I don’t know yet, its only Monday, why?
NN: It’s my girl’s birthday (meaning his girlfriend, not his daughter) and a bunch of us are going to (name of bar) at around 10, you and your man can come have a few drinks, you know.
M: Sounds like a great time!
NN: So what’s going on?
M: Not much, just busy playing softball.
NN: You still seeing that guy, that Spanish guy?
M: Yeah, he’s fine.
(meanwhile I’m thinking…what Spanish guy?)
NN: How often do you see him?
(now I’m starting to get annoyed - you can tell by my answers)
M: Once a week, maybe more.
(ha ha, he’s asking the wrong questions now cuz even if I had a Spanish guy its none of his business)
NN: So what’s his name again? Am I going to meet him?(#1 – Don’t interrogate me, you’ve just made the list and now I’m playing a game.)
M: His name? Don’t worry about it, you don’t need to meet him, ha ha
(Why oh why would he want to meet my apparent Spanish guy?)
NN: Oh ok.
(I think he got the hint after my smart ass comments, but if he pressed on I had a name for this Spanish guy he dreamed of up my sleeve anyway)
NN: Well I’ll let you know about Friday, you know, what time and all on Thursday.
M: Ok great…bye
(I step inside and LMHO, Spanish guy? I don’t think I’ve ever in my entire dating existence dated a Spanish guy. I’m still wondering…”what Spanish guy?”).