The story wouldn’t be complete without a whirlwind love story. As I sit here drinking a latte made with house-made almond milk on a picture perfect warm afternoon in North Beach, I feel a sense of holiday blues already creeping up on me. The month I’ve spent in the States has reminded me how little of the world we know and experience. I feel like a little speck, a blip of existence in this vast Universe. How insignificant our lives are in the scheme of things. Does it even matter what we’re all trying to strive for if not live in the moment?
Like a cliche, the last couple of years, I have dreamt about San Francisco. Both consciously and in my sleep. Ironically, as I landed in SF for the first time and drove across the city towards our hotel, it was a lot different to how I imagined it would be. It didn’t feel like love at first sight at all. Walking around the city, I thought to myself isn’t this supposed to be Summer time? Why is it that the distinct smells of this city are either urine or pot? Surely, this was not the city I was fantasising about for all this time.
Busy with meetings and events, it wasn’t until 5 days later did I have the chance to explore the city that would eventually steal my heart. And all at once, I fell. Hard. And so here’s my love story.
Being alone in this city for the weekend, I turned to one of the dating apps to find a weekend companion that would be willing to take me out and I would hopefully amuse them with my Aussie accent. It’s quite refreshing that men were not deterred by my profile and job title. My profile description starts off with “Introduce me to something rare, something new, something real” and I also added #fuckmediocre to the end of the quote because a) I needed him to know that I had a potty mouth and it was my filter to get rid of the guys that would find it distasteful b) that somehow that would send the message I wasn’t a basic bitch, I needed someone that could converse with me.
So it was refreshing that someone had read up about me and suggested we go for a hike up the streets of Castro up to the Twin Peaks. And so, I thought, why not. At this stage, I had a few choices and matches but this guy seemed interesting, put some effort into suggesting where would go and he also did some research on me. I guess it’s like a job interview, if someone rocks up without knowing what company their applying for or who they would potentially be working for, I rule them out instantly. He also had a knack for words and as a copywriter for a leading tech company in Silicon Valley, that got my interest. I love words. He loves words. Cool.
Meeting at a cafe, I felt a bit awkward as we started our hour long trek up to the peaks. I’m unsure if I found him attractive. I’m unsure what the etiquette was with these “dates”, what if it continued to be awkward and I didn’t know how to get myself out of the date. What was I supposed to say? I’m sorry, I’m bored now and want to go back to my hotel. I figured, I would just make an excuse of being tired after our walk.
As we snaked through the streets of Castro up the steep inclines, he started giving me bits of information on this beautiful city, pointing out small details. He was awfully patient, waiting and allowing me to take in the beauty of the city. Encouraging me to take just that one more darned flight of steep stairs where I was sure to feel as though I would pass out at any time. “There’s a reward at the top, I promise”, he said. I thought to myself, I don’t even know you and you’re torturing me. How any view could be worth this pain, especially after a huge hangover from the night before is… incomprehensible. He was lucky that I was still on my best behaviour and not being the annoying person I can be when I feel irritated.
Then, we made it. The top of the twin peaks, gazing down into the city of San Francisco. “The fog is real!”, I excitedly said as I pointed towards the opposite direction of the city. “Yes, that’s Karl the Fog, we have a name for it”. I don’t know why I have a fascination with Karl. He blocks the views, he’s like clouds that move faster. He turns this city a lot colder at night, the weather changes faster than Melbourne.
Then he called us a Lyft to head towards another part of the city. “I’ll take you to see the Painted Ladies. Do you remember the TV Show, Full House? We can go there and you can see where the Tanners lived“ And as we explored more and more parts of the city, I could feel myself falling. How could a city have this much charm? How could I have known I would love San Francisco before coming here?
“I would really like to see the Golden Gate Bridge. I’ve had the photo as my phone screensaver for over 6 months”, I expressed to him. “Sure, we can take a new photo for your screensaver”.
Our Lyft driver got a bit lost and drove us over the bridge instead of dropping us off at the lookout point, he expressed some annoyance as it would mean that we would need to walk over the bridge. “That’s ok, I don’t mind walking over it. Even though we’ve walked about 7kms already today”, I chuckled. “What’s another 1.7 miles”
As we drove over the bridge, he leant across and kissed me. Umm, okay. I thought to myself. Unsure whether I felt anything, I just looked at him with my shy eyes and smiled. Good for him for breaking the friend zone barrier. Maybe my attraction for him could grow.
Looking out the window with the cold air blasting in my face, up into the red-orange bridge against the blue skies and Karl, it was as if I was realising my dream. For so long, I had marvelled and longed to experience this city. This iconic landmark was my symbol of my dreams, my journey onto something larger than myself. And here I was, right on it, under it, in it.
Lost in my thoughts of wonder, as we started walking over the bridge, he told me he had brought an extra jacket if I wanted it, because SF requires you to wear layers. How odd, I thought. Normally I was the one that was prepared, that had to take care of others. Very quickly I realised how grateful I was that he had an extra jacket as the cold wind over the bridge hit me with full force. Fuck, it was cold.
We finally reached the lookout point and took some snaps. Some strangers after posing for photos asked whether we wanted to take photos. The strangers were possibly offering to take a photo of us both, but to avoid the awkwardness, I said thanks and quickly turned over to my date so he could take a photo with only me in it. Realising that this person I only just met a few hours ago had spent his afternoon with me, sharing this experience with me and doing what I wanted, I felt incredibly grateful. “Let’s take a selfie together”, I said. For someone that usually takes terrible selfies, the photo turned out perfect and I could see the GGB and Karl behind us.
We hopped onto the bus onto our next destination, at this point I was incredibly exhausted. I needed a nap. I put my head on his shoulder and within what felt like 30 seconds, I had dozed off. “This is our stop”, he gently said to me. I wiped drool off the side of my mouth and sleepily hopped off the bus.
We then went to have a coffee at Ghirardelli, not normally an afternoon coffee drinker, this was exactly what I needed to feel somewhat alive again after only a few hours of sleep. Like true romantics, he sat across from me holding my hand as I started opening up and telling him stories. He kept staring in my eyes, I kept asking why he was looking at me like that. “I like your eyes, they’re pretty”. “Okay”, I reply. Still feeling reserved and not unloading everything onto him, I told him things I would tell new friends, perhaps a little bit more. No one wants verbal diarrhoea on the first date. It’s unfair and I also didn’t know whether I liked him enough to care what he thought of me. I just wanted to be blasé Sheryl.
As we walked down Fisherman’s Wharf, my eyes lit up when I saw the big red and yellow sign. Holy shit. “IN-N-OUT!”, I cheered. My day was complete. As we ordered our burgers and animal fries, he mentioned to me that this year was a year of new beginnings for him. After 20 years of being vegetarian, he had started eating meat again this year. I see. Well, at least we could share this moment together, I selfishly thought to myself. I then proceeded to explain to him what “Asian Grace” meant as I took photos of our food for my Snapchat and Instagram Stories.
Our two hour date had turned into six. I thought to myself, this is odd. I normally feel uncomfortable and want to be alone. Yet something inside me, after a whole day of unplanned adventures, wanted to see where the night would take us. Perhaps it’s the beauty of being in a different city, where you’re anonymous and can become whoever you want. You can be adventurous and spontaneous even though you’ve been planned and cautious your whole life. No one would know.
San Francisco, as I leave you, I am already planning to come back. The next time I may not leave.
HATCH THAT DREAM 