I am trapped.
I just waited for this woman to take her clothes out of the dryer so I could use it. She’s finished, but she dropped something on the ground. She doesn’t notice, but I do. Normally it would not be an issue for me to draw her attention to a dropped item. However, this neglected garment changes everything. This neglected garment is a pair of silk thong underwear.
Ack, what do I do? I can’t draw attention to her thong. Her silk thong. That would not be chivalrous. In fact, it could be viewed as lascivious, lecherous, and/or lewd. The Three L’s. I am not that Three L guy. No, I will ignore it, pretend I don’t even notice it’s there. That will save us all a lot of agitation. Peaceful faux ignorance yields comfortable status quo.
Ack, no! I should tell her she dropped it. I would want someone to tell me if I dropped something. I guess. Not if the thing that I dropped was a thong, though. I don’t think. Anyway, I should tell her. I should. It’s the right and decent thing to do.
Ack, no! It may not be. She’ll pick it up, sure, but at what cost? The embarrassment we’ll both feel will prevent us from ever being able to look at each other again. When I do see her, I’ll wonder if she’s wearing the culprit thong, she’ll wonder if I’m wondering about her wearing the culprit thong. I’ll have to avoid her in the lobby, and Lord help us all if we end up in the elevator together. Is a lone piece of underwear worth me feeling like a social prisoner in my own home? I say nay, ‘tis not. On the ground it will stay! Not by my word or deed shall this silken covering be retrieved!
Ack, no! By not telling her, I undo the unwritten code of neighborly conduct! We must look after each other, for it takes a village to… do the laundry. We are each of us both Lassie and Timmy, obligated to save each other from any and all open wells, be they metaphorical or actual. I must embrace my Lassie today, for one day I may be in need of some collie assistance. The path is clear now. Courteous reasoning has cleared the awkward smog. I must help this fair maiden escape her well of mislaid underwear.
There it is. I must. Emotional discomfort or no, it is my duty as a human and a resident of this building. I must. I shall. I will.
“Excuse me, I think you dropped something.”
“Which?”
“That, there. That.“
“I don’t see it.”
“The, ahem, mumble-wear.”
“What”?
“The underwear.”
“Um, what?”
“There! These! Here! You dropped it! Take it! This! It’s nice, by the way…”
“Oh, no, sorry, that isn’t mine. I saw someone drop it earlier, but I didn’t want to say anything because it was, y’know, a thong.”
“A th-th-th-thong, hmm? Oh, I hadn’t noticed. Never seen one before, hehe. A thong, you say? Remarkable.”
A thong indeed.