Neighbors, Part 3 (Patreon)

Three.

It took longer than I thought it would for Veronica to realize I was frustrated. I had gone for a walk, gotten myself dinner, came home and watched an entire movie, made a pot of coffee, drank said pot of coffee, and then - maybe 5 or 6 hours after Ashley had left for the day - she finally said something.

“So, are you mad or something?”

The conversation already felt doomed.

“No.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Seriously? Do you think that I can’t tell when you’re upset?”

“Did you not notice I was upset for the last six hours?”

“I suppose not,” she said. Her bluntness hurt, though I at least appreciated it. “Care to tell me what this is all about?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Well I don’t really want to look at your pouting face all night long. So I suppose we’re at an impasse.”

I truly didn’t want to get into what was really going on in my brain. I knew how it was going to come off, and I knew that I didn’t have any sort of rightful claim on Ashley. To be upset about these things - whether it was Veronica and Ashley’s closeness, or Veronica’s apparent appropriation of my own fetishes - felt silly, and I knew she’d feel the same way.

“Can I guess?” she finally asked as I dwelled over the things I probably wouldn’t have said out loud if I didn’t have to.

“Knock yourself out, but it’s probably not worth your time.”

“No, probably not,” she shrugged. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t entertain myself with your pathetic woes, right?”

I rolled my eyes.

“You’re unhappy about Ashley and I, aren’t you?”

“Do you think that I have a reason to be?”

“No. I don’t. But that doesn’t mean that you’re not going to pout about it anyways.”

I didn’t want to say more, but the words just exploded from me anyways: “I saw you two in the kitchen last night.”

This news seemed to surprise her. It gave me the slightest feeling of satisfaction, though there wasn’t much of a prize to collect.

“I see,” she finally said. “And I suppose you have feelings about that?”

“I don’t know.”

“What, exactly, do you think that you saw? Or heard?”

I laughed. Was this gaslighting? “You two were making out. You...told her to call you ‘Mommy,’ Is that not cheating?”

She laughed. It wasn’t some performative laugh either; this was a gutteral guffaw. “Is that really what’s making you upset? Because if it is, then you have my permission to find someone to make out with.”

“So, let me get this straight - when we tried to actually open our marriage, you put the kibosh on it because you didn’t like that I was getting too close to other women. But now, because you found someone who wants to worship you as their ‘mommy,’ you’re just going to go ahead and declare it open season again?”

“Jaime, are you happy?”

“I...don’t know what you mean.”

“Are you happy? With our life? Our marriage? And I’m not talking about before or some other magical time. I’m talking about right now.”

“Not as happy as I could be, I guess.”

“Right. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings by feeling up the new neighbor. But I’m not going to stop either. And so do with that what you will. Do you want to mope around and pout about it? If so, have at it. Or do you want to go and have some fun for yourself?”

“Are we...done?”

“I don’t know what we are,” she said. “Frankly, I don’t care. We can worry about that some other day.”

--

I wondered if it was possible to break your phone from swiping too much.

That night, after Veronica went to bed, I spent two hours on the couch endlessly swiping through the best that the local internet dating scene had to offer. For the first hour, my standards were high. I didn’t just want to meet someone who would make out with me. I wanted to meet The Coolest Woman Who Ever Lived.

This imaginary woman - she had great hair. Great taste in music. She drank cool cocktails and knew the recipes to all of them by heart. She could set up and light a campfire by herself. At the drop of a hat, she would check my diaper and offer to change me if I had wet myself.

Nobody seemed to come close to this fantastical woman.

My standards dropped considerably in the latter hour, and only diminished further as I got more tired. Vaguely cute? Swipe right. No photo, but she says she likes the band Lush? Swipe right. Is that an axe in her hand? Swipe right.

I had to stop and ask myself: What did I actually want? Did I want revenge? Well, yes, probably. But did I want my dream partner? Or did I just want to have some fun? I knew the answer for that as well.

I decided to try a different tactic, venturing to an “adult friend finding” service instead. After haphazardly cobbling together a quick profile, I was back to navigating local profiles again. Messages were sent. Profiles liked. Eyes were getting heavy.

--

I woke on the couch with the feeling of the morning sun on my face. I never thought the couch was especially comfortable for sleeping on - but apparently my body had gotten to the point where it didn’t care where I was.

The things we do out of desperation.

I checked the dating apps to see if there were any responses to the messages I sent, or any mutual likes. Nothing yet. I could already sense a frustrating habit forming of needing to check as often as possible.

Forget about being able to focus at work that day. Most of it was just sitting at my desk, staring off into space and daydreaming about what could be. There she was again: The Coolest Woman Who Ever Lived. She was somewhere, right at that moment, reading my dating profile and smiling. She moaned softly to herself, clutching her phone close to her chest. Finally, there I was - just the guy she had been looking for too. She was going to make me dinner - and she was going to feed it to me too. After she put a bib on me, of course. And she’d guide each and every bite of food into my mouth. “Mommy already has to clean so many of your little messies,” she’d coo. “Let’s not make a dirty mouth another one of those things.”

I was checking my dating apps again. Nothing. Come on. Where are you?

But at that moment, my cell rang. It was Veronica.

“I’m working late tonight. Then there’s some sort of office happy hour thing. I’ll be home late.”

“Again?”

“I’ll consult with my lawyer, but I don’t think that’s against the law. I’m just letting you know to do your own thing for dinner,” she said.

I immediately checked my dating apps again. Nothing. Wherever Cool Woman was, she needed to hurry up and swipe right on my profile too so we could get some plans together for tonight.

In between my busy day of checking my phone and daydreaming about the nonexistent women who I’d one day meet, I found myself increasingly bitter and resentful of Veronica. Replaying the mental footage of our conversation the day before, she still hadn’t addressed the new baby/mommy dynamic that her and Ashley seemed to be working on. Even when I had specifically called it out, she dexterously avoided talking about it.

I typed the words out on my phone: What’s going on with you and Ashley? What is this mommy thing? I stopped just short of sending it. I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer at all, let alone via a text message conversation.

--

It was just me, myself and I for the rest of the night.

I didn’t even bother checking the dating apps. I didn’t need to rub that salt into my wounds. There was a limit to how much soul-crushing I could take at the hands of the universe.

Aside from sex and a partner that respected me, there were only two other things I could go for at that moment: a diaper and a good drink.

Why not both?

I saw no point in staying at home. Home was depressing. I was literally, and figuratively, beneath my wife and her new plaything. Who, yes, I wished was my plaything, but that no longer seemed to be on the table. Nor was it ever. God, I need that drink.

I put on a diaper; nothing fancy, it was just big, bulky and white. I didn’t keep too many of them around anymore, as I just rarely had a chance to wear them. They took up space - quite possibly the biggest commodity of all when it comes to city apartment living.

I slipped some slacks over it, threw on a cardigan, and decided to check out the local nightlife.

Wearing a diaper in public was something I hadn’t done in years. When I was younger, and stupider, I had some good times with being bold and kinky. Now, as every step forced a plastic crinkle to emit from my ass, I knew that I wasn’t capable of doing those sorts of things again.

I settled on Paladino’s, it was somewhere between a dive and a sports bar, though they charged like they were a much fancier establishment. Not my first choice, but it was the closest to home, and it seemed like the safest option. If my nerves got the best of me and I had to make a crinkley run for it, this was a good place to be.

There were some clusters of friends smattered about the bar. A few couples. A few independent drinkers that looked like they were best left independent.

“Hey,” the bargirl said. “What can I get you?”

“I don’t know. Bourbon, neat, I guess. But something fancy. I’m treating myself.”

She laughs. “I’m not a bourbon drinker myself so…”

“Surprise me. Whatever’s expensive.”

“Oh, well, that I can help you with.”

The bargirl is cute. I kind of want to flirt with her, but I also don’t need that sort of rejection tonight. Maybe I’ll just take the drinks instead.

But that’s when I see her a few seats away from me at the bar.

Ashley.

Are you fucking kidding me right now?

She saw me at the same moment I saw her, and she was grinning from ear to ear.

“Well well well,” she clucks. “Look who I spotted.”

I didn’t want to hear her voice tonight. I’m in love with her voice. But I can’t run away.

We stand up simultaneously and move a few seats closer to each other before sitting down again. I had momentarily forgotten that I was wearing a diaper, but the soft crinkles emitting from my ass as I sat down served as an urgent reminder that I needed to be careful.

“Flying solo tonight?” she asked.

“Veronica has some sort of…”

“...work function?”

I stop myself from rolling my eyes. “She told you too?” I don’t know why it bothered me so much.

“We text,” she said with a shrug.

“What are you up to tonight?” I asked.

“Oh, you know. Just being the new girl in town. Exploring.”

“And have you made any discoveries?” I was finding that my attitude with her had changed a little. The subtle resentment towards her and Veronica had only helped to ease my need to try and impress her.

“Not really,” she said with a smile, before taking a drink of her martini. “Is this the move when your woman isn’t around? Hit up the local bar life?”

“I’d hardly call her my woman,” I said. It had been hard to choose which of her questions I was going to answer.

“She’s not really the type to be owned, I guess.”

I laughed. She seemed wise and observant for her age. Or Veronica just wore such things on her sleeve. “Not especially. She’s the owning type, if anything.”

I caught something. A look. The slightest darkening of her cheeks.

“I believe that,” she finally said. She had more she wanted to say, and I watched her roll the words around in her mouth for a moment before she spat them out: “Does she own you?”

I laughed again. “No. But wouldn't that be nice?”

She smiled and nodded.

I was biting my tongue. But I managed to convince myself, in a very short amount of time, that this meeting was predestined and wasn’t meant to be squandered. If I had anything to say, I needed to get it out now.

“What’s going on with you and her?”

Now her face seemed to lose a little color. “Oh… You know about...that?”

“If I’m being honest, I thought the two of you were flaunting it right in front of me.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that it looked like that.”

I nodded. Yeah, I know.

“I’m stepping right in the middle of some shit, huh?” She finished off her martini, flagging the cute bargirl for another.

I sighed. There was no easy answer to that. “Veronica and I… Things are complicated and they have been for a while. But...If it wasn’t you, it would have eventually been someone else. And, I don’t know, that’s probably not the worst thing in the world. At least it’s you.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Like, it could be some other guy or some other girl that’s making her all giddy and excited again, you know? And if it was anyone else, I’d know nothing about them and I think that lack of knowing would kill me. But, at least with you...I like you. I know exactly why I’m jealous.”

“Oh,” she said, her voice dropping. “May I ask what’s making you jealous?”

I finished off my bourbon. The bargirl noticed, pointing to the glass to see if I wanted another. I nodded. Yeah, I’m gonna need that.

“There’s a dynamic that the two of you seem to share,” I said, speaking slowly as I carefully considered my words. “It’s one that I had proposed to her once.”

There was no confusion, nor was there any need for elaboration. She knew exactly what I spoke of. “I didn’t know that.”

It offered a little relief to me - knowing that Veronica hadn’t just told Ashley my dirty secrets or used it as an opportunity to mock me.

“How could you have known?” I asked.

“Maybe I shouldn’t even ask this…”

“We’re here. We’re drinking,” I said. Maybe I was trying to convince myself more than her. “Get it all out.”

“Were you proposing that she would call you...Daddy?”

I laughed. That sounded much less embarrassing than the truth. “Oh...no. The opposite.”

“The opposite?” I watched her process that a little. It seemed to be much more alien to her than I thought it would be.

“Right. Like...she’d be my Mommy? And I’d be the one in diapers.”

“Wait. Diapers?”

My heart froze and all of the air in my lungs dissipated. I had said way too much.