Advice From My Doorman

Remember my entry, Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, where I discuss the awkward, often dysfunctional relationship I have with my doormen. Where I picture them to judge me silently and keep tabs on my personal life. Well, this just in: They actually do.

One day after the unannounced visit from Robbie (See: A Visit From Robbie), I walked into my building after a long exhausting day of work. The same doorman who had watched the Robbie drama unfold, was on duty and made eye contact with me as I walked through the front doors. He shook his head.
“Is that guy nuts?” He asked.
“Pretty much.”
“He came in and asked for you, and I got his name wrong. I asked if his name was Robert. He started yelling ‘Robbie, Robbie.’ I was pissed the way he was talking to me. I was so happy when you said he couldn’t come upstairs and I got to kick him out of the building.”
“Yeah. You know, we dated nearly a year ago, for a minute and he hasn’t left me alone since.” I realize I was probably giving too much information.
“Yeah, I remember him.”
“Yeah.” Awesome that he remembers the chronology of the men I have dated. That’s not uncomfortable.
“You know who I liked the best? That really tall guy. With the son.”
“Ah. Colby. (See: Yankees Vs. Red Sox) Yeah, that was a few years ago.”
“Yeah. I liked him the best. He was really cool.”
Is this appropriate? I wonder. Is this what other people talk to their doormen about? Or only me? Probably only me.
“I thought you were gonna get married to him.” He tosses in quickly.
“Really?” I fake smiled through my teeth and wanted to die. I wondered if there was some dry cleaning behind his desk. I am pretty sure I could suffocate myself in the plastic.
Beat.
“The other one was cool. The tall guy that you dated after Colby. The guy with the glasses. He was cool. He was nice.”
Huh. Well this was unwelcome awkward advice. I felt like I was in the movie, A Christmas Carol, only it was The Boyfriend Carol, where my doorman was the ghost of boyfriends past, taking me on an unsolicited journey back in time. I may or may not have heard metal chains dragging behind his ankles. If I had to go through this, the least he could do was bring me to my future for a bit so I can see how things end up.
“Am I dating anyone 12 years?”
“Excuse me?” He asked.
“Nothing.” It was a worth a try.

So you know when you ask yourself, is my doorman paying attention to my private life? Is my doorman judging me? Judging my actions? Now you know. The answer is yes.

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