So You Can Hear Your Neighbor Having Sex

It should be noted that this is not applicable to anyone in college. In the dorms, this is a normal occurrence, and is a sign that all is right with the world. (Unless, of course, no one is having sex in your dorm. In which case, you’re probably at a Christian university, and do not truly understand what the word “fun” means.)

Now, first of all, you should probably take a couple seconds to say a hearty “Congratulations!” in your head to your neighbor. (Or, if you prefer, out loud, though he—your neighbor is a he for this example—probably won’t hear you.) He’s closed the deal and found a mate, thus fulfilling the biological imperative, even though he—hopefully—is using protection and hopefully won’t procreate.

(Hopefully because you know the guy. You know his habits and what a putz the guy can be. I mean, seriously, who leaves their trash out like that? The schmuck. The schlemiel. God forbid this guy breeds and brings another person who doesn’t realize that, no, you can’t just “plop out” the trash on the God-damned front yard and expect the fucking trash guys to pick it up. That’s unreasonable.


Congrats aside, this is a very unfortunate occurrence. The man and lady are going at it at 10:30 at night when you have to be up at 5:40 in the morning in order to get to your underwhelming job which consists of staring at a CRT monitor all day and answering e-mails asking simple questions that could have been answered with a simple Google search. You’re not pleased at finding that your usual sleep routine is interrupted by an abnormally loud woman on the other side of the adjoining wall, because it will mean that getting up for your job the next morning will be even more difficult, and you can’t take another sick day without getting canned.

So what are you going to do?

Well, let’s explore your options!


Try To Mess Up His Game

The guy knows something about the dirty dance—evidenced by his keeping rhythm. If he’s anything like the rest of the male sex, then, probably, it’s going to take a lot of concentration to a) make it enjoyable and b) last more than half a minute.

(Any blustering about how you don’t have to concentrate will be proof that you’re compensating more than a guy with a Hummer and a pair of testicles on the back bumper.)

Since you’re a vindictive jerk—like me!—then your first option is simple: Start pounding on the wall in an arrhythmic pattern to screw up his concentration.

Think of a spastic child with a drumset. The kid doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s never heard of terms like “beats per minute,” “syncopation,” or “you’re killing the bass drum.” He just wants to be Lars Ulrich, and does what it looks like Lars is doing: Raise merry hell on those drums in front of him. Be like the spaz. Go nuts on that wall. Don’t even worry about breaking through the plaster. That comes later. Just concentrate on screwing with the guy’s mind as much as he’s screwing his girlfriend.

Scream At Them

My God, she’s a loud one. What’s up with that? Don’t people only do that in porn?

And holy shit, aren’t they concerned about the guy’s dog? What’s that dog thinking with her screaming like that? Shit, that dog probably thinks someone’s getting murdered in that house, and, damn it, it’s happening on its watch! That’s animal cruelty, right? Interrupting the beast with two backs would be saving that poor canine from mental anguish.

So, since the lady on the other side of the wall is abnormally, ah, talkative, so should you be!

But what to say? Well, obviously, nothing that could be construed as helpful. Don’t go shouting tips. But, you can’t be clichéd, either. You have to be fresh. I recommend utilizing the width and breadth of the fabulous Yiddish language. That link’s a fine place to start, and, frankly, you’ll be educating them.

It’s important to note, of course, that you’ll have to use your best stage voice. (I assume that you have a stage voice. What sort of gentleman/lady would not have a stage voice?) They won’t hear you if you’re speaking normally, and shouting is just so tacky.

Turn It Up To 11

Up until now, there’s probably been a tacit agreement between your two homes about volume. You’re sharing a wall, you’re essentially sharing space—you don’t want it to get hostile.

But now, with this shit, that agreement’s been nuked from orbit. He’s intruding on your sleep time, and, God damn it, that’s a sin on par with serial murders. No more should you be concerned about playing your music too loud on a weeknight. No more should you be too concerned about the sound of RPGs exploding in Modern Warfare 2. No more should the calls of dragons be muted by turning down your speakers. Let it rip, motherfuckers.

Or, alternately—and this is much more fun—go get that Epiphone X-Plorer out of storage—yeah, the one you tweaked to get the pick-ups sounding just right. Then go get a nice amp. (No, don’t use the one you’ve had since you were fifteen. That’s no good. That’s a practice amp. Like the stage voice in the above option, you need a stage amp.

And then what you get is a series of overdrive pedals and whammy bars that would make a black metal band think you’re going over the top. Set them up, preferably with the amp(s) right against the wall, and then play Metallica’s “The Four Horsemen.”

What’s that? You don’t know how to play the song? Well, it looks like you’ll have to learn. In the meantime, let loose with the RPGs and dragons.

Have A Conversation With Him About Being Considerate

Nah, screw that. No way that can be funny.

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