I was excited and slightly anxious about my trip. I knew it would be crazy busy and I've had some serious issues weighing on my mind. For one, I detest flying. Not only is the whole experience a giant fucking hassle, but I'm scared to be plummeting through the skies at 35 thousand feet. It's not natural. And I have no luck to speak of, so why wouldn't I encounter every problem there is to have while trapped in a death tube?
And I know by now that my energy reserves only last so long, so I was hoping I wouldn't crash until after I got home on Monday night. My body is so unpredictable, it's all a crap-shoot, but I tried to have some faith and be prepared for whatever.
Despite getting to the airport waaaaaay earlier than necessary on Friday, everything went rather smoothly. I locked myself into my tiny seat and promptly fell asleep. Or passed out from fear, whatever. I landed in San Jose and after walking 14 miles to the baggage claim area, I saw his red t-shirt in the distance. He was a sight for lonely eyes and the 3 weeks we've been apart seemed like 3 months.
I jumped into his arms, feeling my face press against his warm chest. We murmured our reacquaintences and got the hell out of there. We drove to our hotel (which I thought was pretty nice although he probably worried I didn't) and found our room, not with any help of the staff. Hey expensive hotel, why don't you make sure all of your rooms have a fucking room number on the door. We almost camped out on the stairwell!
As he mentioned in his entry, we walked around a little thinking about food and decided on burgers and fries. Fine with me. The one thing I am easy-going about it grubbin'. I don't need a 4 star restaurant. I can go with a drive-thru or linen napkins. Then we picked up some wine, a nice bottle for me, a jug of screw-top Carlo Rossi for the pimp daddy. (We need to work on that). Then headed back to the room to relax and watch another movie that had potential but ended with us going "wha?". Don't watch White Noise. It's like the phone ringing right when you're ready to cum.
After the movie, I had a pre-scheduled little nervous breakdown with tears and sniffling and hard questions and good answers and I was petted like a kitty and he made everything all better. Although I scared the snot out of him when I shifted a mere inch causing perhaps the worse charlie horse I've ever had in my left calf. You'd think I'd been lost in the desert for 40 days and drank nothing but lizard piss. I couldn't get the words out to tell him to flex my foot back. I just kept pointing and sputtering "toe toe toe argh toe" until he figured it out. It was bad. But I am still lucky.
I woke up earlier than God and tried to get some more sleep. When that was futile it was decided we needed (read: I needed and mandatory) to pack up and do a little shopping. He respects my love of all thing Target and is not an anti-shopper. That lucky thing I've mentioned? Envy me you beotches with men who act like little babies when they step one foot into Crate and Barrel and start whining and loudly jingling their keys. I laugh at thee.
After almost starving to death and refueling on some orgasmic meat and cheese dip at Chile's, we headed for San Fran. I was looking forward to seeing Matty and spending a couple nights in the palatial condo he lives in. Breathtaking views of the city. Plush towels. And a very comfy bed. (Clicken to embiggen).
Here's the view off the upper balcony. I know!
We messed that bed up more than once, btw. Bow chica. I love this house and always feel instantly relaxed. Except for this time. The neighbors were doing some "light" construction, love the sound of a saw at 7 in the morning, and have a "guard dog" who was doing a bang-up job barking at the fucking moon all night long. And we shared our room with one very neurotic and noisy hissing toe-eating turtle, Greta.
But it was still fun. We hung out for a bit and had a cocktail before dinner, then freshened up and walked to the Castro to meet Matt's family and some friends. Why lookie! There's the cutie patootie graduate now!
There were about 20 of us at dinner, complete with 2 wild kids and 1 quiet one. The food took forever but was really yummy and the bistro sent us every desert on the menu to share. The cheesecake blew (who makes cheesecake with a whole wheat crust? Gag). But there was some chocolate gooey decadent thing that I would have fought his 2 year old nephew for. He's spry but I could have taken him.
Sunday we slept in late then everyone came over for brunch where we enjoyed mimosa's and favorites from a local bakery. And thankfully there was a meat and cheese stuffed bread item for whitey and his no-green-things palate. The house was quickly getting wild and we decided to bug out of there and go do some sightseeing at Pier 39. I've been to SF many times but haven't had the chance to do some touristy stuff. I forgot how much I hate tourists. I was reminded...over and over and over.
On the way I took some snapshots of the city from the car. Nothing great, but I love architecture and am constantly experimenting with my cameras that I refuse to learn how to properly use because I'm incorrigible.
After a hundred million years we made it through the throngs of traffic and utterly fucked up over-crowded city with no parking and went here.
Since both whitey and I are lovers of animals, we were looking forward to the aquarium. I've spent some quality time under water and am continually fascinated by what lives in the sea. Whitey is equally as curious and awed but will never set a toe in the ocean. Which is good because he has to save that for the turtle to eat.
We had to maneuver our way around morons and idiots all day and when I'd had enough of the little girl with the powerful lungs screaming in short intervals in our confined space, I was compelled to say something. Worked too. Sometimes that pre-school teacher in me comes out with a vengeance.
Inbetween those inconveniences, we saw some very cool shit.
Stupid kid and her stupid hand.
Anyway. After the aquarium we stopped for a bite to eat and chill for awhile. I needed to try and find a graduation gift, nothing like waiting until the last fucking second retarded me, but it was not to be. (Everyone could use a cool bottle of Vodka, right?) We walked around a bit more and snapped a few more pics, most of which are on my Nikon to be developed this weekend, then headed home. Or tried to. Stupid crowded no left turn city. But I'm still lucky!!
We made it home a bundle of nerves and stress and had just enough time to relax and get ready for the big party. We looked hot, if I may say so myself, and had a good time drinking on the balcony and laughing with(at) strangers. We had to deal with the obligatory party poopers too. Why people go to a party and act like assholes who don't want to be there is beyond me. Stay the fuck home if you have that agenda, cause my invitation didn't say "please join us for a crappy time." Jebus H. My vote for the bartender was "straight".
I woke up not feeling as bad as I thought I would, although I was almost at the end of my reserves and would have enjoyed spending the day laying in bed rather then trekking to Berkeley to fry in the sun. But, we had commitments. Pah.
More driving through the fucked up city but the bridge was clear. Trying to find parking then literally baking for more than 3 hours in what felt like 110 degree heat. I was so miserable I didn't think I would make it. Whitey being a super trooper the whole time. Never blaming me once for "dragging" him to this thing. He's awesome and I'm lucky.
I bursted with pride when Matty walked across the stage in his flowing black gown, his square cap perched on his head. Took as many pictures as I had left in my camera, then got the fuck outta there. I didn't have time to join everyone for dinner and my prince drove me back to San Jose in rush-hour traffic and held my hand as I slept and drooled in his car. We said a melancholy goodbye but knew the time until we saw each other again would be short. And best of all, it was the last time we'd have to bid adieu like this. I'm so lucky.
All-in-all, the weekend was fantastic. Whitey is a damn saint and continued to hug and squeeze and pet me all weekend when I was feeling freaky or crappy. He brought me water and munchies when I was tipsy and hungry. He held my hand and kissed my face and returned every single one of my I love you's. And we laughed a zillion times, not to mention some most excellent lovin'. I got to spend just enough time with Matty, whom I love enough to explode my heart, and got to meet more of his lovely friends, and make fun of some others. Squee!
I'm so, so fucking grateful to have these cherished people in my life. A love that I've never known and friends that are my family. People who love me back and accept me for who I am. Psychosis, illness and all. I was surrounded by people who lift you up instead of put you down and it's healing for my soul. As cheesy as that may sound, I returned home tired but satiated to my core. I feel that excitement about life and the future again, something that has been AWOL for quite some time. And for that, I am lucky.
And I kissed a girl.
What?
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