When E. found out about my blog, he wanted to know if I had written about him.

“No.”
“Why not?”

I’m thinking at time why would he want me to write about him? I hardly know what to say. But, I’m going to give it a try.

E. was a pretty serious love for a year and half. We had fun. He would at least concede that. He’s a good-looking guy and keeps in good shape. He’s not terribly tall—in fact we are almost the same height. He also has quite a bit of body hair—which he hates—and I loved. If you had asked me about hairy men before I met him, I would have said, “yuck.” But his was soft and petable. To this day, he thinks I’m crazy for that.

Then there was his smell. No, not that kind of smell—a natural smell. He doesn’t wear scented stuff of any kind. I loved—still love—his smell. Again, he thinks it is weird. I’ve never liked someone’s natural smell so much in my life. I even have smell memories. Ever thought of someone while they are away and then smelled them? I have. He has a job that requires him to be out of town a lot. One time when he left for a few weeks, I made him leave me a worn shirt. I know he thought I was nuts, but smelling that shirt made me feel that he was close by.

We could talk for hours about everything—still can. We got along better than I have with anyone. Why did it end? You’ll have to ask E. because I have no reasonable explanation. I’m sure my being unemployed didn’t help things. I’m sure I acted needy, maybe even clingy. I had lost my job and most of my friends, except him. And then the bottom fell out of my life: no job, no friends, no boyfriend. I couldn’t date for a long time without being reminded of him. Well, I still remember now and then. We’re still friends, and we find time on rare occasions to catch up.

Since I agreed to meet an old “friend” from graduate school this coming weekend, I had to find out where this guy was staying in San Francisco so I could find a coffee house. Well, once I found out I nearly fell out of my chair laughing.

Anyone who knows San Francisco will understand. But I don’t know it that well, so I will explain. The conference is at the Moscone conference center, which is near Market and Mission, putting it in the Mission district. Although a visit to the Moscone center website says it’s in the downtown district. Whatever. It’s near Mission, which is near Market St. Why SF is divided into “districts” I have no idea. They aren’t real districts–marked on a map–just convenient ways to say where you live within the city. It’s a bit like a secret code that only San Franciscans know. You say you live in Nob Hill and people nod and seem to know something about you. Nob Hill means you probably have more money than the person speaking to you. And of course there’s Haight-Ashbury, which has turned into yuppie-ville. The hippies can’t afford to live there anymore and haven’t been able to for some time now.

Anyway, Market and Mission Streets have a unique atmosphere. Anyone who has visited SF will know. Although if you get up to Castro and Mission, it gets even more interesting.

Now, this guy is from Missouri. Hasn’t been outside Missouri much. Missouri doesn’t have the various ethic groups that we have here nor does it have the peculiarities that SF is known for. I have to give him some credit for living in a suburb of St. Louis, so he’s familiar with larger cities. But St. Louis is nothing like SF. There is no city in the world like SF.

I hadn’t heard of the hotel he said he was staying at, so I had to look it up. It’s obviously one of the cheaper hotels in the area. R teaches at a community college last I heard. They make less than professors and much less than teachers at either type of college out here. He’s probably lucky to afford the trip.

My internet search on this hotel turned up some interesting information. The building is from 1909. Not everyone who has stayed there has been very happy. It turns out that this hotel is recommended by a gay travel site as being very gay-friendly, and it is run by a gay man. R doesn’t know this. I am sure he doesn’t know this. All of this will make a very interesting stay in SF for him. I can hardly contain my glee over seeing this homophobic nitwit’s reaction when he finds out where he is staying.

I have tried to talk another friend of mine into coming (to take pictures and act gay—just to mess with his mind), but he won’t. But he’s soooooo good at it. I’m sure there will be plenty to disturb R on a Saturday afternoon on Market Street without any help. Small-minded people like R are so much fun to mess with.

Right now, I don’t have any particular coffee house in mind. It’s Market Street. If I can’t find one, then I must be blind. When I mentioned to a friend that I wasn’t all that interested in meeting R while he’s in SF, he wanted to know why I was. Well, I hate going back on my word. But now it is like a train wreck just waiting to happen, and I have to see. I must bring my camera and actually remember to take a picture or two.

Technorati: San Francisco, travel, St. Louis