Friday night in the city, and where to go and what to do. It’s the first time I’ve been home in weeks…months even…and it’s a little strange to not be in another time zone or stranded in the airport vacuum without a sense of time or place or being. Funny. Being “home” in SF doesn’t feel all that much different.
C and I have both been stir crazy. It has been raining all week, and we haven’t been doing much except watching tivo and eating comfort food. I don’t mind it much. I tend to love shitty weather. And surprisingly, even though its perfect weather for a boyfriend, I actually don’t find myself longing for one.
We both wanted to go out, but didn’t really feel like drinking (esp. after last weekend for me…how am I still alive?) and didn’t really feel like getting dressed up or fixing hair or whatever. So we did what college students do, and packed a bag of reading material and headed to the local coffee shop.
Unlike Austin, SF is a far cry from a college town. Coffee shops are known for, well, coffee, not so much atmosphere. God, what I wouldn’t do for a Spider House-type place here. Our closest match was a place called like Art Cafe or Canvas cafe or something. I never get the name right–but its fairly close to UCSF in the sunset district, right on the edge of Golden Gate Park. I have been there a few times–actually one of the first times I was in SF–but never on a Friday night.
Upon entering, C and I quickly assessed the environment. One side was a little bit darker – the bar side. And the other side was a lot brighter – the coffee side. On the “coffee side” there were several rooms created by modular walls displaying various art collections. We called one of the make-shift rooms the nerdy corner. And we refused to sit there. Another room was the old corner. Also didn’t want to sit there. We tried sitting near the bar side, but then a really lame — and i mean REALLY LAME – improv troupe started up over there singing weird fucking tv jingles, and we had to leave. Luckily, a weird guy curled up in a leather lazy boy decided to leave, and we took over his spot.
There were moments when C and I felt as if we were in college again. There were also moments for me, when I totally didn’t feel as if I were in SF anymore, and for some reason, that felt strangely comforting.
As for the crowd…well…it was interesting to say the least. Strange mix of people ranging for students, to hipsters, to high school kids, to grungy film maker types, to parents with kids…very mixed and weird crowd. C and I spent most of the night just talking about our past few weekends. I told her more about Ken, and how while things were happening with him, I was so oblivious, but now that I have had time to process it all, I can’t help but think about it/him, and Im not sure why.
A large part of our discussion centered around what I keep saying, and what I have come to solidly realize – boys in their early 20s are a helluva lotta fun – but I will never trust them to be able to give me what I need at this stage in my life. Where is the happy medium though? Where can we find an older guy who is still interested in doing fun things and going out and still learning and growing. Most all of the 30 somethings I have met in this city are just dinner and drinks type of people. I’m going to need more than that.
We also discussed how underrated little acts of genteelness are. My example was of the “back pat.” In Texas, you get it all the time – like when a guy needs to slip by you and gently rests his hand on your lower back to say excuse me. Or when you are standing oblivious to a group of people about to push their way by you and a guy reaches out and puts his hand on your back to get you out of harms way. Or when you are going to a bar or restaurant or whatever, and the guy not only opens the door (rare concept in this town) but also puts his hand on your back to gently escort you in first. Underrated, but effective gesture. Like picking a girl up, rather than suggesting she pick you up whether or not it makes logistical sense. Or getting out of the fucking car when he drops you off to walk you to the door, rather than sitting in there and saying goodbye. I know I harp on this a lot, and it may seem as if I should focus on finding common traits in a person like sense of humor etc. But to me, its these kinds of moments that make or break someone. It’s that general sensibility of taking care of another person in the most subtle of actions. In this town, even when a guy buys you a drink, theres such a feeling of entitlement, that it’s almost not worth accepting the offer.
Sigh.
I keep saying how this last trip to Austin got me all worked up. “Rocked me to the core” as C and I like to joke. In Austin, a lot of people kept asking me when I was moving back. Weird that people ask that. But I remember confessing to someone I just met that I would never ever choose to raise my kids in California. Ever. So I guess its not really a matter of if I will move back, its a matter of when. It’s weird to start thinking along these lines, and makes me feel old, so I won’t. For now, i’m here. But I’ve always thought that someone will either make me stay in SF, or make me move to Austin.
But back to the coffee house — we did end up meeting a guy. Naturally, it was the weirdest guy in the entire bar. He asked me if I liked to party, and I really had no idea how to respond, especially since he was dancing around while he asked it. By dancing, I mean he had his hands on his ears, grasping invisible headphones, as if he were a dj. He was also kicking up one of his legs. No, I’m not joking.
So, to the Canadian, who Ive had discussions with this past week about the kinds of guys who hit on me — when you are hit on time and time again not just by the so-so normal guy, but by the weirdest mother fucker in the entire 5 mile radius – then when a guy like Ken tries to kiss you, it gets you all confused. Its like if you ate a turkey sandwich on white every single day for an entire year, and then all of a sudden, someone gives you a taco. You’d be wondering too, right? Like its weird. Its not what youre used to. But yet, its so very fucking intriguing.
—————————–
LM and I have been talking a lot since last week. “Keeping it alive” as we like to say. She is possibly more nostalgic than I am, and speaks constantly of wanting to turn back the clock. Double sigh, as we like to say. She also told me that prior to meeting Ken, she showed him some pictures of me. ?@)(#)(#*($#*$*#(&*&^^ Now it all comes together. God, here I was thinking it was out of the blue, when really, it was all so premeditated. Glad I didn’t know though, else I woulda probably ran into a corner to hide.
As payback, she showed me some picture of Ken – on his boat – with his *gulp* shirt off – which I was way too embarrassed to look at. What, am I a fucking nun or something? Why does this make me all flustered as if I’m a 12-yr old kid? I couldn’t look, but I’ve been told by others braver than me, that his body is not too bad. Um. yeah. Don’t want to even go there.
———————————-
One final note – if I said it once, I’ve said it a million times: why are men in SF such fucking pussies? C and I concluded – men in SF consist of one of the following:
1. Fucking pussies
2. Boring old people (all old people are not boring. But in SF, they usually are)
3. Marrieds (this can also fall into “Boring Old People” – see above)
4. Wannabes
5. Hipsters
6. Marina boys aka frat boys grown up
7. Douchebags
We also concluded that we’re not totally signing off on it, but we don’t have much hope in meeting men in SF. Which is probably why we have been traveling so much lately…bleh.
