I get home last night, and granted I'm a bit tipsy as a result of a Valentine's Day that was mercilessly locked in singleness. Stumble through the apartment, jump on the computer and make a pizza. Go to the window for a quick smoke.
So as a point of reference, I live across from the Phoenix Hotel. Literally I overlook the parking lot and have an angle on four of the rooms that face it. Of course you had the regular emotional outcrying, the drunken aborted near-blows, the dealers staying clear because it's in their best interest to just stand by and laugh. And one room, a spotlight shining out, I do a double-take when I realize there's a couple going at it doggy-style.
Of course I do the natural thing and grab my binoculars. I size them up.
I have to throw in caveat upon caveat here. I am not a pervert (at least, not this type). I respect people's privacy and have no problem looking the other way if I happen to catch a glimpse of something that was meant to be a private event, private gesture or private otherwise.
But please, people. I'm also a red-blooded male, as well as a study of human nature and necessity, and it's not like it isn't obvious that there is a full set of apartments right within eyeshot. If you're in a city, close your fucking drapes! I don't care if you're twenty stories up, pull the fucking drapes. Now I'm on the fourth floor, the phoenix is only two stories, and here are these two people going at it. If they're going to be that fearless, I'm not going to give a shit.
After about four minutes, they got the hint.
So how was it? Mechanical. I got the impression watching them that, for all the seeming enjoyment and energy, there was no connection. It was fucking, and not even animal fucking. These two people either had never met before or, if they had, don't know a thing about each other.
That, and in spite of the fact the woman still had her dental floss on -- merely pulled aside for the activity -- she was completely uninteresting.
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