Dear Joely: Too Loud, Too Late, Too Attractive

Dear Joely,

I'm a 32 year old woman, living in an apartment block of eight units in Melbourne. I've been very happy here, except that about six months ago, the flat upstairs from me sold and a guy moved in that makes a lot of noise, often late into the night. He plays a sax and thinks nothing of practising until 1.30am. He also watches TV with the volume up really loud until all hours. It makes it hard for me to sleep.

To make it worse, I've seen the culprit collecting his mail a couple of times and he's actually really attractive, in a slightly wild sort of way. That aside, I feel like asking him to keep the noise down might annoy him and escalate the problem... and I really don't want that. On the other hand, my sleep and quality of life are being affected.

I'm having visions of becoming like Mr Heckles in Friends... letting my feelings be known with a broomstick.

I hope you can help.

Exasperated and Slightly Enamoured

Dear Exasperated and Slightly Enamoured,

Of course he’s attractive. These men are never a balding accountant in sensible loafers. They always arrive looking like they’ve been assembled by a casting director specifically to ruin your judgment.

Let me say this plainly: the fact that he is good-looking does not make him less of a pain in the arse.

Practising saxophone until 1.30am in an apartment block is not bohemian. It is antisocial. Watching television at full volume into the small hours is not free-spirited. It is selfish. He may be wild, but at present he is wild in the manner of a fox in a wheelie bin.

That said, your instinct is right. Going in blazing with a broomstick and a sleep-deprived speech about common decency is unlikely to produce a man who says, “My God, thank you for showing me the error of my ways.”

So. First move: calm, civil, direct.

Catch him in daylight, when neither of you is in your pyjamas and homicidal, and say something simple:

“Hi — I just wanted to mention that the sound travels quite a lot in the building, especially late at night. I’ve been hearing the sax and TV pretty clearly, and it’s been affecting my sleep. Would you mind keeping it down after about 10 or 11?”

That is not aggressive. That is normal adult communication. You are not asking him to stop existing. You are asking him not to turn your ceiling into Birdland at midnight.

If he is decent, that will be enough.

If he apologises and improves, excellent. You may continue finding him attractive from a safe emotional distance while also getting some REM sleep.

If he is vague, dismissive, or improves for three days and then resumes his late-night jazz odyssey, then you escalate in the least theatrical way possible: body corporate, building manager, strata, whatever version of adult bureaucracy your block runs on. Keep notes. Dates, times, type of noise. Boring, yes. Effective, also yes.

The key thing is this: do not let your slight enamourment convince you that you must be endlessly charming, understanding, or game about this. You do not owe a handsome nuisance extra tolerance. Quite the reverse. Beauty should be quiet after midnight.

And for the record, becoming Mr Heckles with a broomstick is a stage to avoid, not aspire to. Once you are striking the ceiling in a rage, the situation has already won.

Go and be polite. Then be firmer if needed. There is nothing unsexy about boundaries, and if he can’t cope with a neighbour asking for sleep, he is not nearly as interesting as his cheekbones suggest.

Yours, in defence of sleep and standards,

Joely

Dear Joely: I’m Not a Drunk, But

Dear Joely,

I’m not entirely sure why I’m writing to you, except that a friend of mine’s wife likes your column, which I imagine is about as glowing a recommendation as one can expect for an advice page.

In any case, I have a question, or possibly a problem, depending on how dramatic we’re being.

I think my drinking may be getting a bit out of hand. I say “may” because I’m still employed, still paying my bills, and not waking up in a hedge in Stevenage with one shoe missing. I’m not pouring vodka on my cornflakes, and I haven’t yet become the sort of man people speak about more quietly over Christmas lunch. So I do have some perspective.

That said, I’m drinking more often than I mean to, and more than I intend to once I’ve started. I’ve also begun waking up feeling woolly, thick-headed, and vaguely disgusted with myself more often than I’d like. A woman I was seeing recently told me she never knew which version of me she was going to get after a few drinks — the funny one, the moody one, or the one who suddenly wants to start an argument over absolutely nothing. I didn’t enjoy hearing that. Mainly because I think she may have been right.

So my question is this: at what point does “I should probably get a grip” become “this is an actual problem”? And before you say “go to AA” or “talk to your doctor,” I am aware those options exist. I’m asking whether you think this sounds like a genuine issue, or just a man in his fifties noticing that the body is no longer as forgiving as it once was.

You may well be the wrong person to ask, but I seem to have run out of the right ones.

Signed,

Woolly in Watford

Dear Woolly,

First, thank you for that stirring opening vote of confidence. “A friend of mine’s wife likes your column” is exactly the sort of endorsement every woman dreams of.

Men do so love to arrive at vulnerability wearing a fake moustache.

Now that we’ve both survived that, yes — I do think this sounds like an actual problem.

Not because you are waking up shoeless in a municipal shrubbery, but because your drinking is no longer behaving as a harmless supporting character in your life. It is changing your moods, your mornings, your relationships, and your own opinion of yourself. That is enough. You do not need to wait until you are pouring vodka on your cornflakes or being discussed in lowered tones over the Christmas potatoes before you are allowed to take it seriously.

Men in particular do seem to love the idea that a thing only counts once it has become catastrophic. Until then, it is merely “having a few,” “blowing off steam,” or “one of those patches.” This is often very convenient for them, and rarely for the people around them.

The woman who told you she never knew which version of you she was going to get did you a favour. Not a pleasant one, admittedly, but a favour all the same. If alcohol is making you unreliable to yourself and unpredictable to others, then I would stop fussing over whether the word “problem” feels too dramatic and begin with the plainer truth that something is not going well.

And yes, since you’ve pre-emptively rolled your eyes at the obvious advice, I’m afraid I’m going to be boring and sensible anyway. Start keeping proper count of how much you drink and when. Not your charming estimates — the real number. Then speak to your doctor, or a proper alcohol support service, or both. There is no medal for trying to out-stubborn a habit that is already beginning to cost you pieces of your life.

You ask whether this is a genuine issue or simply the body becoming less forgiving. I would suggest that if the body, your conscience, and at least one exasperated woman are all trying to tell you something at once, it may be worth listening.

And for the record, advice columns are not magic. They are simply one of the places people end up when denial has started springing a leak.

Yours, surprisingly sensibly,

Joely