Saturday around midnight, I’m reading in bed when I start hearing some people having sex. Weird, because the two condos flanking mine are vacant, and above me is an old lady I never hear. These sounds are really loud, as if they are not in another apartment, but more like in another room. Oh well, I figure they’ll finish and quiet down, so I wait.

Then I realize the sound is coming from right outside my bedroom window. For those who don’t know, I’m on the first floor and my window is right on a parking lot. Are they in a car? On top of a car? Who has sex outside at -10 C? A prostitute with client? They must be very close to me because I can distinctly hear every word.

It keeps going, and I can soon hear some pounding against an object, but still only one voice, that of a man. I can’t see anything, as my blind is only open two inches. I soon realize the pounding is against my own bedroom window.

I’m getting a little freaked out. Comet is growling and growling, but try as I might I can’t get her to bark. I turn my light off, then back on to indicate that I’m there. The sounds quiet for an instant, then someone raps right on my window. My heart jumps out of my chest.

I manage a shaky “Yes?”.

He says: “Excuse me, uh, I’m an exhibitionist. I just want you to look at me. Can you just look at me?”

- No. Go away, you’re scaring me.

- Oh, ok. I’m sorry.

Now, I know flashers aren’t typically dangerous, and he seemed quite harmless. And for a second I think I’ll just leave it at that. But he came right up to my bedroom window at night. That’s pretty *&@$&ing intrusive. It’s one thing to flash someone on the street but quite another to bother someone in their own bed. Didn’t he know he was going to scare me? And how did he know I was a chick alone anyway?

Now I’m angry. I call the cops on him, and they send someone. I get up to tidy things up a bit, and it’s when I pick something up that I realize how much I’m shaking, how freaked out I am. But within a minute, I’m looking on from the window at a towering young cop is searching the parking lot, while talking on the phone with me. Of course the guy was gone, and I had no description.

Someone recently told me I was flypaper for freaks… I think we’re all freaks in one way or another, but I generally draw the line at the having-to-call-911-in-the-middle-of-the-night type. Anyway I doubt he’ll be back.