Single White Female

The transition from weary traveler with a caffeine addiction to single in the city with an even more alarming caffeine addiction has been pretty seamless. Week 1 of my crusade through the bay area has been down right fabulous from job prospecting to urban hikes to crazy night life to date nights to free concerts...I couldn't ask for more. With all these fun happenings I have had some moments of processing... processing my new status as a single adult. As the government census lady said to me yesterday, "you are a single, white female. correct?" "Yes, last time I checked". On a few occasions this week I have found myself contemplating the idea behind companionship, and I have come to a conclusion (that is for myself, the rest of you can fend for yourselves). I thrive off companionship, I like being able to have someone to share experiences with and tell the mundane details of my life to. I like having someone to call, come home to and tell the latest dirty joke to. But with that said, I think companions can come in different forms (ideally a hunky, intellectual male with a great sense of humor but I digress). My steadfast companion is of course my loving dog who has been through it all with me, lived in over 5 states with me and shares almost all my meals with me. My second companion is my ipod which I take pride in and enjoy fostering an intimate relationship with. The third is what I will refer to as a temporary companion, i.e. foreign roommate, man I met on the bus, downstairs neighbor, crazy bag lady. All of these have become a great companion at some time or another in my first week in this incredibly windy, incredibly vibrant city.
On Friday as I walked through the Mission on my way back from picking up a package (new cheap camera that I ordered), I saw an old theater called The Victorian with their marquis letters reading "The Dodos tomorrow @ 4". How coincidental that the band I listened to the most on my way out here was performing a few blocks from my front stoop! I immediately took note and did some recon work when I got into my apartment. How much? Were the tickets sold out? Who would want to go with me? Ends up, the tickets were free if you picked them up at this coffee shop called Four Barrels (amazing place, old record player humming hipster tunes and french presses galore). I mosied my way to cool Valencia St. to pick up said tickets on Saturday morning and grabbed an ice coffee for my troubles. The guy asked how many I wanted and without even thinking, I responded "three please". Errr OK, I barely know three people in the city but why the hell not, it sounded good coming out of my mouth. As I walked back home I made a few calls to the three people I did know and all were busy doing other more important things. Damn. On a long shot I asked my only roommate who was home, the Swiss one, if she wanted to check out a cool band. In her broken, beautiful English she said "Yes, that would be nice." We went to the show, the venue was giving out free coffee (I swear this must have been at least my 5th or 6th for the day) and donuts. The Dodos were apparently putting on the show to practice their new material before their official tour and they are from San Francisco (I didn't know that). It was great, their setup is unique and their sound is even better. 3 instruments; acoustic guitar, drum kit minus the base drum (drummer attaches a tambourine to his right foot) and a zibraphone. The drummer is front in center and definitely the focal point of the music. They joked with the crowd (consisting of extremely well dressed, vintage clad cool kids), took requests which was awesome and thanked the crowd for coming out in the middle of a beautiful day. My roommate and I then spent the next few hours sipping Chimay on an outside bar patio on Valencia St., smoking European rolled cigs and talking about how we both had landed in this very spot. When I asked if she had a boyfriend she said no, but said she was open to a "love affair". I love the way Europeans speak about love. Us Americans sounds so crass and low class when we talk about stuff like that ("oh my god Becky, I totally hooked up with this guy last night"). The conversation was great and we had a windy walk home.

As far as my other temporary companions, the man I met on the bus took me out to a great dinner at a swanky spot in the mission called Bar Tartine where we shared a bottle of great wine, and I ventured into a food territory I never thought I would go. Bone marrow spread on a warm baguette for the appetizer and hog jowl for the main. I only really ordered it so that I constantly had an excuse to say jowl throughout the meal.
I shared what was meant to be a solo cinco de mayo with my downstairs neighbor, we drank tecate and took a few tequila shots and talked about how much we loved the city. We hung outside in our back patio while our dogs pretended to ignore each other while occasionally sharing a scowl across the lawn. He seems like a good person to know in the city and I have shamelessly asked him to find me a room in this building so I don't have to move.
I shared a hilarious and eventful walk with the crazy bag lady on my block. She proceeded to tell me her whole life story as I walked Ella around the neighborhood. I couldn't shake this woman for the life of me so I eventually just gave in and hung out with her for over an hour. She actually made me laugh a few times and recommended a good food joint up the street. I walked away glad she chose me to bother.

Did I just say hunky in this post? haha I guess i'm bringing back the 90's, save by the bell era lingo.