Most likely, the scene was a reminder of the night you first met, both new to the city, both finding shelter from the snow at Union Pool, both staying with friends while you looked for an apartment, "probably in Williamsburg." Your reality check came weeks later when you moved to Flatbush. Hilary was so full of life that night. Her blue eyes thrilled by the folk band and the "cool vibe," and her lips tasted of one-too-many vodka cranberries.
A year later, both struggling in the harsh world of the actor/restaurant worker, you decided to take your relationship to the next level. After a few Brooklyn Lagers on the floor of Brent's studio, you both shouted, "Yes! Let's move in together!" You were promptly told to, "SHUT UP!" by Brent's roommate, who was sleeping only a few feet away...
But back to the loud sex...
When Britney sang her last notes, coy arguments turned to audible cooing. This led to the best sex to date -- a marathon session with simultaneous orgasms that could not be hushed no matter how hard I forced my down pillow against my ears.
Brent, Hilary, though the walls may shake, I can’t help but think that something isn’t right here. It might be time to once again turn on the Britney Spears.
Oh yeah, and keep the love-making down, please! Thanks, guys.
Your too affectionate neighbor,
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Kara King is a writer at Thrillist who's all up in your business. Follow her nosy tweets at @karatillie.