My Neighbor Negged Me

Here is some important background you need to know. We used to have really awesome neighbors, who then had a couple of kids and moved down the road a way into a bigger house. They now rent their house to a couple I, until yesterday, had almost no opinion of. I did have an opinion, which was “The wife seems nice, the husband seems like he’s a mean drunk.” That was enough for me to basically avoid them. And, when I do see them or hear them, it’s either when they’re going to work when I’m walking the dog or when they’re yelling at each other. Also, my old awesome neighbor now owns my old lawnmower, since he was the only one who could keep it running when I owned it and he needed a lawnmower. He tried, recently, to pay me for it, but I refused, because, as far as I’m concerned, he saved me the bulk trash pick-up. That he later got it and kept it working is just his good luck.

Anyway, yesterday, I’m in the flower bed under the trees, cutting down privet and the dude comes over, “What are you doing?” “Cutting down privet.” What was your name again?” “Betsy.” “Oh, right. I don’t know why I can’t remember that. I know it. Hey, didn’t you say you worked at Vanderbilt?” “Yes.” “What do you think about them hating Christians?”

So, we get into this incredibly uncomfortable discussion in which I try solely to focus on the idea that he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who likes the government telling him what to do–and he doesn’t–so he should be uncomfortable with the government setting the definition of Christianity. And I keep repeating that the State doesn’t get to say who’s a Christian. And he’s all “It’s not a problem. It’s obvious who’s a Christian. John 3:16. There’s no problem. It’s obvious.”

Until finally he says, “Well, I don’t want to argue about politics or religion when I’m drinking.” People. He came into my yard! And then he says, “But my brother is a minister, a real minister, who went to school and everything.”

And that’s how he ends the argument. I kept waiting for him to say “And my brother says…” but no. Just the end to the “discussion” is that his brother is a minister. Like that counts for anything when it comes to his opinions.

And then we enter phase two of the bizarro conversation. He goes off to the bathroom or something and his wife is explaining how they don’t like their landlord to mow their lawn, because they think he does a crappy job. So whenever the weather is nice, she mows the lawn so that, when my old neighbor calls to say he’ll come by in the morning to mow it, she can tell him it’s already done.

Then the dude comes back out. He’s explaining how he finally convinced our old neighbor to let him put vegetable beds in the front yard, where it’s sunny. And then he says–and this is where I thought, “Hmm, I’m being negged, here, like some chick in a pick-up-artist’s sights”–“Your yard looks like shit. No offense. But I can tell that [the Butcher] doesn’t really care about it.” Then he proceeds to tell me all the things wrong with my lawn and all the ways that the Butcher is obviously failing to maintain it. And I’m all like “Well, maybe, but the yard’s his thing and I’m not going to stand over him and make sure he does it how you’d want it done.” Which you’d think would be a huge clue to just back the fuck off, since even saying it outloud sounds so fucked the fuck up. But no, it’s like he doesn’t even hear me. He’s all going on about how he can tell that the Butcher doesn’t sharpen the blades enough and the blades are probably ruined by now and I should just expect to pay to replace them. About how he’s been dying to do something about/with my greenhouse and why hasn’t the Butcher chopped down the trees around it?

And on and on about how much the Butcher sucks and he’s sorry to be saying it and about how shitty my yard looks and he’s sorry to be saying that.

And then comes the offer–“I’ll maintain your mower and mow your lawn, too, if you let me use the mower to mow my lawn.. Just think about it.”

And then, I got the sense that he realized that, if I thought more about it, I was going to run screaming into the night, because he was all “I don’t mind. I used to be a landscape guy.” Etc. All this stuff about how he was well-qualified to do it.

But let me repeat, he’s insulting my yard and my brother in order to get his hands on my mower because he wants to use it to mow his yard, which his landlord would prefer to mow. His landlord, who has always been good to us and who we like. And the dude is offering to mow our lawn, even though his wife has already admitted to me that she’s the one who mows theirs! So, really, he’s trying to make some “deal” on her behalf.

And did I also mention that, in the whole course of this bizarre conversation, he’s also telling me about all the guns he owns and the things he likes to shoot? (And let me be clear, I didn’t take this as a threat about “So, I could kill you if you don’t go along with my weird lawnmower scheme” but more about how he was, I think, trying to demonstrate how powerful he was.) And about how there’s just some stuff I don’t know about the world, since I’m from here? (Which I also thought seemed like a pick-up artist move–to confidently make guesses about a person that make it seem like you know more about her than you possibly could.)

The whole thing just felt like: Step one: put B. on the defensive with some bizarro argument. Step two: insult her lawn and the ability of “her man” to properly maintain it. Step three: demonstrate power and prowess. Step four: demonstrate a mastery of things she couldn’t possibly have. Step five: get her to give us her lawnmower.

The whole thing was just… ugh… so fucking weird. And the whole time it was happening, he had his shirt off and was just rubbing his belly.

And I came inside and I just felt like I’d been in-person attacked by an internet troll.

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17 thoughts on “My Neighbor Negged Me

  1. I’m busy feeling sorry for his wife, and worrying that she fell for this sort of thing in the first place.

  2. nm, I feel so sorry for his wife. They once had a fight that ended with her standing outside in the middle of the night yelling at him to let her back in.

  3. I’m also really confused about this idea that insulting my loved ones would get you anywhere. Lord knows I’ve been in places in my life where insulting me and talking about how shitty I am might get me being all “he’s right and I need his help to fix it.”

    And people who are my friends can say honest things about my family.

    But some stranger insulting my family? In what universe is that going to go over well?

  4. In the universe of people who have inferiority complexes about their families, and want to be rescued from them.

  5. “I’m also really confused about this idea that insulting my loved ones would get you anywhere. ”

    Well he clearly doesn’t care much for the person he lives with. Maybe he assumes you don’t either.

  6. good grief, I’m 800 miles away from this guy and he makes me feel icky and gross. It is really sad that he lives in a world where he thinks a good strategy is to insult people until they take his advice.

  7. This guy sounds like a real winner. I feel for his wife too.
    My ex was great at insulting me and my family. He’s now my ex. Maybe the lady down the street will someday have this lovely, liberating prefix attached to her now husband. :)

  8. He sounds like a really stupid drunk. And I’m glad he doesn’t live by me, because my yard looks like crap, too.

  9. The belly rubbing…Gross. What a maroon. Yesterday, a woman, a new renter down the street, came up to chat to my husband while he was mowing, about chemtrails and electric lines poisoning us all. She had a Stars and Bars do rag. She has lived here a week but is convinced the quiet Hispanic family next door is doing drugs. They aren’t the ones I’m worried about.

  10. When I worked at Casey’s right after college (See, millennial, it could be worse. At least you can’t find jobs. Gen X could, but they were so, so shitty and you still had to live with your parents.) there was this guy who ALWAYS rested his junk on the counter when he checked out, like it was too big a burden for him to stand for long holding up his penis with just the attachment to his body a penis has. No, so heavy was his penis that, if he stood still for too long without resting it and his balls on the counter, he would be too tired to walk home with his gallon of milk.

    And every time I saw him hitch himself up to the counter so that it rested there, I thought, “This is possibly a job they give you as punishment in Hell.” Like, did he think I was going to see it resting there and want to fuck him?

    Anyway, he was always bare-chested and he always rubbed his belly like that, so the whole association for me was just of being kind of comically grossed out.

  11. I was and remain completely sleeved out by your neighbor. But your last comment has me snortling to myself in quiet glee.

  12. I’d check to make sure your lawnmower is kept locked up, because I’m betting otherwise it will “accidentally” end up in bellyrubbing neighbor’s yard. Ugh gross.

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