I found this draft of an entry I meant to post back in the beginning of March 2004. Given the circumstances of my relationship with Brian, it's serendipitous that I should trip over it while trying to reinvigorate my blog. Oh vell:
March 2004
A lot has happened in the past few weeks. Someone (his name shall remain confidential until further notice) asked me out at a party. Aw, fuck. Let's call him B-Lo. It's homage to the devastation wrought by Bennifer's uncomfortable break up.
Back to the asking out. I was dumbfounded, to the point of losing all sense of the wit and charm I usually fake for social gatherings. Let's imagine the scene: the camera pans to my awkward pose, holding my blue Dixie cup of water, mouth agape, shocked by a flirtation that hadn't existed 3 seconds before my jaw dropped. I was flattered.
The asking out comes just at the right time, just as I see how far I've come in relating to men. Methinks I shall explain.
I ate dinner with Brent this past Thursday, at Valencia Pizza & Pasta. My birthday looming, like a big, fat yellow moon on the horizon, I reflected, "This is exactly how I pictured turning 30. I'm happy. I like my life, I love my friends. I feel like I've been moving in the right direction. I'm content."
This is NOT how I've lived most of my time in San Francisco. (Beware, this is going in the direction of pithy, pop cultural reflection.) Sometimes when I watch Sex and the City I yearn for the nostalgia of NY. The late night pizza, sleep overs from New Haven at Peter's apartment on 2nd Ave. & 12th St., dancing at The Roxy with Jonathan. I've spent many of my years in SF solitary and lonely, despite many friends and a wonderful love with Dan. NY has always loomed as the place I want to be again. SF has just been the spot where I have a better quality of life.
Turning 30 has made it easier to look back without regret. (Which is what nostalgia often feels like to me.) I'm not the same person I was when I arrived in SF. And, after six years, I like this person even more.
March 2004
A lot has happened in the past few weeks. Someone (his name shall remain confidential until further notice) asked me out at a party. Aw, fuck. Let's call him B-Lo. It's homage to the devastation wrought by Bennifer's uncomfortable break up.
Back to the asking out. I was dumbfounded, to the point of losing all sense of the wit and charm I usually fake for social gatherings. Let's imagine the scene: the camera pans to my awkward pose, holding my blue Dixie cup of water, mouth agape, shocked by a flirtation that hadn't existed 3 seconds before my jaw dropped. I was flattered.
The asking out comes just at the right time, just as I see how far I've come in relating to men. Methinks I shall explain.
I ate dinner with Brent this past Thursday, at Valencia Pizza & Pasta. My birthday looming, like a big, fat yellow moon on the horizon, I reflected, "This is exactly how I pictured turning 30. I'm happy. I like my life, I love my friends. I feel like I've been moving in the right direction. I'm content."
This is NOT how I've lived most of my time in San Francisco. (Beware, this is going in the direction of pithy, pop cultural reflection.) Sometimes when I watch Sex and the City I yearn for the nostalgia of NY. The late night pizza, sleep overs from New Haven at Peter's apartment on 2nd Ave. & 12th St., dancing at The Roxy with Jonathan. I've spent many of my years in SF solitary and lonely, despite many friends and a wonderful love with Dan. NY has always loomed as the place I want to be again. SF has just been the spot where I have a better quality of life.
Turning 30 has made it easier to look back without regret. (Which is what nostalgia often feels like to me.) I'm not the same person I was when I arrived in SF. And, after six years, I like this person even more.
posted by barn | 5:49 PM
