Dear My Upstairs Neighbor's Bass Boost,
I don't think this is going to work out.
When you first made yourself known to me, it all seemed so promising. Do you remember that first date? You appeared in my living room one Saturday night, shortly after I had moved in, and whisked me away from a quiet movie viewing with the trance stylings of "BOOM boom boom boom BOOM boom boom boom (deedle-deedle-deedle-deedle) BOOM boom boom boom BOOM."
From that moment on our relationship was like a fever dream, illogical and enticing. You were always so eager to try new things. I never knew what would happen next, and I have to admit, your attentions were, at first, exhilarating. Would you awaken me gently on a Sunday morning with a sweet soul classic like "Dah da...DAAAH! DAH da DAH da dooooo...?" Would you rev my engine with the insistent guitar caterwauls of "Dum-dum-dum-dum-dum-DUUUUMMM, DUR-nur-nur DUR-nur-nur DUR-nur-nur WAAA-a-AAA-a-AH?" I was constantly walking a tightrope, a tightrope of the unknown, and it was thrilling.
Oh, sure, we had our problems. My boyfriend, for example, couldn't help but notice that my attentions were elsewhere, and there were some tense moments, like that nasty incident when "GRUN wokka-wokka GRUN GRUN" interrupted a tender moment on the sofa. I'm sorry I got testy with you then, My Upstairs Neighbor's Bass Boost. I sincerely apologize if that is when things started to go south.
I think, though, that the turning point was when you appeared in my bedroom. I was shocked to hear you there - I felt both frightened and titillated, a little angry and a little vulnerable. I didn't know how to respond, and so I said nothing, did nothing, just lay there, in the wee hours of that Monday night, listening to "Shoo-bah shoo-bah shoo SHOO BAH." What made you do it, and what made you turn so cold and aloof soon afterward? Were you hoping for some kind of sign from me? Is that why you seem so indifferent now - are you hiding hurt feelings behind that wall of carelessness?
Whatever the reason, My Upstairs Neighbor's Bass Boost, you cannot deny that your heart isn't in it anymore. Gone is all the effort, all the variety, that turned my head in those early days. Now it is always the same: right around eleven o'clock - and surely it cannot be a coincidence that this is my bedtime! - you arrive, starting up with no preamble on a program that seems distant, terse, even cold in its rigid conformity. "BUM-bah, BUM-bah, BUM-bah, BUM-bah" is what I now hear, every night, until you sign off as abruptly as you came, without so much as a fadeout, at around 2:00am.
Look, My Upstairs Neighbor's Bass Boost, I don't know what your game is. I don't know why you continue to visit, when you clearly don't get any pleasure out of it anymore. I can see that you're just going through the motions, so why bother? Are you trying to wear me down? Teach me a lesson? What?
Very well, My Upstairs Neighbor's Bass Boost. I get the message. If you want me to be the bad guy, I will oblige you. Very soon I will pay you a visit in person, with a gentle reminder about town noise ordinances and quiet hours, and put an end to this sad, late-night sham of a relationship for good. I hope this is what you want, My Upstairs Neighbor's Bass Boost. I hope it makes you happy. Just know that I never wanted it to come to this.
With Resolve,
Hilatron