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. “Whatever,” they said, “you’re so complicated.”
Which brings me to the tale of one of my few and far between dating experiences with east coast men. In this city finding one of these rare dudes is not necessarily a privilege, but it certainly is if he’s fresh off the plane. Benjamin was one such boy. He had only been in San Francisco for a year, but seemed to have done everything he possibly could not to understand it. 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. When I met him I felt like I was with a tourist rather than someone who had been living here for a year. I was excited. I wanted to take him under my wing.
I first met the east coast boy at the coffee shop I always write in. 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).
When things went incredibly awful with my ex, I dumped him and immediately went on to pursue Benjamin. Back then I called him, “The Coffee Shop Boy”. I went to his work, hoping he’d be there, and eventually he showed up. Of course I was ‘working’ (well I really was!) and went up to talk to him several times. What looked like plans for Halloween turned into plans to get a drink that very evening.
He texted me at 11:30. He was at the bar down the street and I thought his friend would be with him. He was alone. I can’t even begin to describe what happened except to say that whatever I did I nailed it that first night. 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. Despite the fact that he seemed to have had a rather scattered life he had a lot of confidence and I never got the impression of self-doubt. I’m a hyper motivated, did this did that person, but I’m oozing with neuroses and self doubt. I can’t help but wish I was more like him, though I do think that much of what is wrong with me is also what pushes me forward.
After three hot and heavy dates we did the deed. It was not memorable and there was something ominous about it, about how we both immediately said “the first time is always awkward” after it happened. Then we didn’t talk much. We were supposed to hang out on Election night, the 4th, and he got sick. It was stupid. There I was witnessing the very thing I’d wanted all along – a win for Barack Obama – and I was worried about a boy not liking me. I wasn’t sure if he was really sick.
Later that week he told me he had a fever, and was doing a lot of practicing for a show he had Saturday. Still, when I saw him at the show I still felt like there was something wrong. When I asked him if he missed me, he said “Yes, I was wondering if you thought I was being distant. When can I see you next?” While what he said seemed sincere I found something troubling about his facial expression. It was flat. I felt insecure, and funny enough, some strange yet extremely foxy guy ended up following my friends and I to a party later that night telling me I was hot. He turned out to be weird.
Given what Benjamin said at his show I thought things were ok, that I was thinking only of the worst. As it turned out, though, things were as I had thought. Though he was sick all week, when we met up this Friday at 5:30 he told me we’d ‘taken things too fast’ and that he doesn’t want a girlfriend.
When I met him for a drink that night I hadn’t known that he’d deal me out such sad news. I had finally found out that he really was sick, and that had only further convinced me that I was wrong in doubting his feelings for me. This is not to say that I got all excited again, but I did feel more at ease when I came into the bar to meet him.
What came about that night was very un-San Francisco if there was such a thing. He told me that he doesn’t date women, but is only in serious relationships. He likes to be alone. Given his lack of knowledge of people and places in San Francisco, and what he had told me about himself I didn’t have trouble believing this. What was funny to me was that he had called me over to tell me all this in person. Being here, you get used to people simply ignoring you or blowing you off in some way. Even I don’t tell people “I’m just not that into you” in person. Unlike me he also feels it’s dishonest to date other people when you still love someone else, in his case his ex from five years. I wonder what my life would have been like had I not dated since my ex…..hmm.
I was shocked. I didn’t even feel rejected. I didn’t know how to feel. I kept playing with the ice in my drink. The two of exchanged laughs over the situation we were in. There was no animosity, and much of me actually feels that the fact that he approached me about this is hope for the honesty of men – beings I have come to believe are putrid liars.
Now I guess I have more faith. Now I get to be alone again, and this time there aren’t any loose ends. Thank you Ben, Mr. East Coast Boy, for having the courage to break things off with me and save me from days of stupid ‘I wonder if he likes me’ woes. And, most of all, props to you for giving me the talk after only 3 dates. Now that’s something to get on a plane for!
