Mailbox Guy Has a Name

It’s Gunther. Seriously. Here’s how the conversation went down:

“Hey, you’re in 302, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen you around. What’s your name?”

“Gunther.”

“Fletcher.” [ed. note: I have decided it’s okay to reveal my first name. Hi. I’m Fletcher.]

We shook hands. It was cool. But I needed more.

“You know, we should hang out some time. I mean, as friends. You know, ’cause we’re neighbors.”

I started losing my nerve. Maybe because I couldn’t read him I just kind of assumed this wasn’t going well and I got nervous. I literally blurted out: “I’m not gay. This is not a homosexual thing. I just meant two dudes drinking beers or whatever.”

I was turning red. I added, “It could be wine.”

But as you probably guessed, my fears were unfounded. Just me being neurotic. He was totally cool. He said, “Yeah, cool. We should totally hang out.”

Now I don’t know if that’s just someone being polite–like, what’s he going to say? “Sorry, not interested.”–or he was being sincere. I’ll only know for sure when we actually hang out.

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