Monday, January 23, 2006


Although Awesome had to work the first few days I was in San Francisco, he has had the past week off, which explains why I've not written. Like every week when we are attached at the hip, I feel like a month has gone by, yet it is all a blur. And thus far, it has been the most romantic, nonstop frivolous, and random week we've spent together.

This morning after returning a rental car near Fisherman's Wharf, we collapsed in a booth at a diner. Instead of perusing the menu, I could not stop reading the small print and charges on my rental car receipt. I began having conscious, painfully realized nightmares about my finances. When the waitress came to take our order, Awesome and I were wailing about our overwhelming credit card statements and our grotesquely underwhelming bank statements.

It still amazes me how I've lived in London for two years (at least on-and-off, and mostly on) and unlike all of my American, Australian, South African, et. al. friends who live in Londonia temporarily, I have not acquired any credit card debt. Especially since I travel all over Europe twice, sometimes thrice a month, and return to my three "homes" in America without reservation. So, if you ever need professional training in how to manage money, please let me know. Granted, I always want to murder my asshole student loan officer. Also, after I complete my PhD and that fugly bitch Sallie Mae visits me once a month, I will hate her, too. I would rather Aunt Flow visit me every month than Auntie Sallie Mae.

Awesome and I have a movie life and we're only 27. We're a traveling nurse and a PhD student/adjunct professor/infrequent television producer, and we still (barely) live within our means and warrant a romantic long-distance reality television show. So what the hell am I complaining about? Also, my saying "We" is currently okay with me, as we've had an amazing month together in New York, Dallas and San Fran. Just give me another month to start freaking out about being in oversexed, overpartied and oversingle London. And grant me this same month to horribly miss Awesome once again. We're in the Long Distance Home Stretch now anyway.

After the diner waitress skeptically brought our bill to us, the two young men complaining about finances, we paid the fucking bill and ducked out of the diner, back into the blasting San Fran sun (does this city EVER have winter?!). See, whenever we start feeling guilty about money, we know our extravagant time together is over. The honeymoon must stop. And it's so fucking depressing each time. Especially since we always seem to be on our honeymoon whenever we rejoin.

During the past week, we went out to expensive lunches and dinners with my San Fran friends (or by ourselves). We went to every major exhibition at every museum here. I think we both now have new wardrobes. We rented a car and drove up to Mount Tamalpais with more friends, and then hiked around for a few hours. In the driver's seat, I felt like my father, since he used to drive my family all over the mountainous regions of Colorado, Hawaii, and New Mexico when we were kids. The rest of my family would be clutching the "oh shit handles" as he zoomed down winding roads of giant American mountains, his SUV hugging the sides of cliffs. But he always just kept driving, zooming and zipping along, unphased by the jagged twists and turns into gravel pits and sudden stops. This time around, though, I was my dead father, maneuvering my family of friends down to safety while their nerves caused them to shreik and moan.

Awesome and I went out every night during the past week, sampling bars, clubs and lounges all over San Fransisco - his temporary new home - and more often than not, were invited by friendly Californians back to their apartments after venues closed. One morning we got home at 11:30 and went to sleep around 1:30pm, but most of the night is still a wonderfully youthful fog. Well, except for after I showed interest in some girl's poetry, she took me into her bedroom and begged me to have sex with her, shoving her hands where they shouldn't have been, while I shoved her off and told her 92,000 times that I am completely in love with my boyfriend, who was in the kitchen with her roommates. Silly poets.

As we walked home from the diner this morning, we racked our brains for places to go, things we hadn't done during the past week. I grabbed Awesome's hand and walked quickly in the direction of his apartment building. We talked about how shitty we felt after our week-long surplus of socializing and hedonism. We vowed to be of utmost health when we see each other again in early-April. We said we felt disgusting and unattractive. When we got back upstairs,I stripped and stood naked in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, visible to any of the neighbors should they look across from nearby Bay Area windows.

"What are you doing?!" he yelped.

I just stood there, smiling. He told me I looked gorgeous, much to my own current disbelief. 30 seconds later, Awesome stood naked at the window with me. And he was beautiful. There we were, two imperfect bodies and minds, two occasionally insecure people, high above a famously imperfect city. We made love on the sofa and then moved to the bed, pretzeling every last one of our limbs around each other under the covers. As he nodded off for a nap, I kissed his long eyelashes and closed my eyes, knowing damn well that this afternoon was far better than all of the extravagance and dollars we spent during the past week.

After enduring an 11-hour flight starting Wednesday afternoon PST, I'll be back in London on Thursday morning.

It is an odd thing, but everyone who disappears is said to be seen in San Francisco. It must be a delightful city, and possess all the attractions of the next world. - Oscar Wilde