Though I was once born and raised in the Tri-State area, where cold winter storms may be said to forge a greater dependency and trust among others, I am now a student of the school of flakiness, shakiness, and damn complications that is San Francisco.I can’t say I like it, but when I once told someone I was a straight shooter they straight up laughed at me.
Not only does he live in one of the most remote parts of the city, he spends all his time either with his friends from back home OR in seclusion in his far off dwelling spot. I first met the east coast boy at the coffee shop I always write in.
When I met him I felt like I was with a tourist rather than someone who had been living here for a year. He works there and was playing a song I really liked.
I ended up burning several of the CDs he played on my computer and promising I’d make him a mix.
Since I had a boyfriend at the time – one who frequently sat next to me and rubbed my thigh at said coffee shop – it was kind hard to act on anything.
Despite this I felt a real connection to Benjamin through our common music tastes.
I would put some of the songs he burned me on repeat, feeling that they came very close to expressing many of my hidden urges (aka freedom to fuck whoever I pleased and not be in a relationship). What looked like plans for Halloween turned into plans to get a drink that very evening. He was at the bar down the street and I thought his friend would be with him. I can’t even begin to describe what happened except to say that whatever I did I nailed it that first night.
When things went incredibly awful with my ex, I dumped him and immediately went on to pursue Benjamin. I went to his work, hoping he’d be there, and eventually he showed up. The two of us got very confessional, talking about family histories, childhood, and our own idea of what is good and wrong (I don’t remember the details on the latter except that I probably changed mine a bit😉 ).
He seemed extremely reliable, and a steady sort of guy, understanding as he was.
I am a bit of a firecracker, so I was glad that he seemed to accept me, then again…I also couldn’t tell him that my ‘friend down the street’ was sending me texts that said “fuck me now” throughout our date, but who wants anyone looking at her text messages anyway?
After that we had quite the romantic escapade complete with holding hands, kissing on the street, and nights staying up till six am not fucking but talking.
I liked him because he seemed straightforward and unlike most men in San Francisco I felt I could trust him to be honest not only with me but with himself.