Best Valentines Day Ever


And I am single!

How in the world did that happen?  Oh, not the single bit, asshat, the best day ever part?

No expectations.

I had no expectations around today.  That was helpful, but also, it was just a beautiful day out there in my world.  It was sunny in the Mission, my bike sparkled delightfully as I spun off to work, and I had time to make a nice big mug of Stump Town before I clocked in.

Work was nice.  Nothing huge happened.  Well, to most minds nothing huge happened.  In my mind, leaps, and bounds, and pirouettes.  I practised being happy versus right and it worked!

I practised pausing before saying something.

And it worked!

I let myself be a worker amongst workers and it was nice.  I was of service.  And I got to make the day of a few people when I called, on Valentines Day, and said, congratulations, your baby has just come down from the design studio, come and get it.  I was useful.  Usefulness makes for happiness, or so I have been told.

Seeing some one grin from ear to ear when they see their new bike is pretty spectacular.  Hell, I am still all a glow about my ride.  I haven’t even taken her on a decent ride–back and forth to work and once to Rainbow and back.  I need to break her in with a good tour of the city.

Especially after getting to see what the gentleman who owns one of the bikes did for Valentines Day–he mapped out a heart of the city for his girlfriend, then rode it!  It’s up on the FaceBook page, I’d link it, put I’m not that cool.

Or I’m just lazy.

I am going to have to put my money where my mouth is.  I have told a number of people who have come in and wondered about whether or not  San Francisco is totally a doable city on a one speed.  Time I got on it–I did it years before when I was on the one speed Pogliaghi I had.  Maybe a nice ride out to the beach.  Hit up the Wiggle and take the path through the Pan Handle to Golden Gate Park and on out to Ocean Beach.

I can ride along the ocean for a while then go to Java Beach.  I love Java Beach.  It may be my favorite cafe in the city, but I only get out to it once in a while.  Not so much for the coffee, I don’t even recall what they have their, I know it’s decent, but for the atmosphere.

It has big windows which catch the light from ocean, although you can’t see it from the cafe, it’s just on the other side of the highway, a three-minute walk.  There is just a timelessness about ocean light.  That quality of light brings out something in me beyond nostalgia, there is a soothing kind of comfort sitting in ocean light, a deep quiet joy.  And the cafe has big deep comfy leather couches and chairs, all the better snuggle into the light with.  Perfect for nestling into with a bowl of soup.

They have good soup there too, I may have to do that.  Take a ride out to Ocean Beach, get a coffee, walk down on the beach for a while, and come back to Java Beach for soup to fuel up for the ride home.

Now that I don’t have a commute.  I mean to say I do is silly, I really don’t.  I need to make sure I keep getting that exercise in.  Biking is fantastic for that, clears my mind, forces me to be in the present.  You can’t really day-dream when you’re riding a bike, you’ll get into an accident.  I have done it.  Drift off and next thing you know you’re about to hit some one crossing the street.

Mmmm yes.  A beach day.  I am down.

Then I will be able to say without any doubt that this bike can take it.  Actually, that’s crap, the bike can take it fine, it’s my legs.  I am using a different set of muscles then when I was on the road bike, so building up those muscles may take a bit of time.  They also won’t get very developed if I just stay in the Mission.

Time to get that map app the Valentine Day guy used.  Strava?  I will look it up here in a moment.  It was also recommended to me tonight by another gentleman who rides, and one of the guys in the shop uses it all the time.  I am down.  It will kill two birds with one stone–give me something new to learn about my Iphone and better bike knowledge of the city.

Done and done.

Valentines Day was also lovely as I heard from my oldest friend, and first love (Love, True Love, can you hear it?  Think Cliffs of Insanity, As you wish, the Farm Boy), Henry Hall.  He called to say he loves me and was thinking of me and wishes me a Happy Valentines Day.  He told me he was driving out in the country, he was thinking of me, and suddenly I was right there in the passenger seat watching the Wisconsin landscape roll by.

Used to be there was a time that talking about Henry or writing  about him was like stirring up old sludge, poking a stick in a wound, re-igniting the unrequited love flame, etc, ad nauseum, blah, blah, blah.  I fantastic way to beat myself up.

Henry knows I love him and I know he loves me.  It is awesome–we have developed into good friends.  He is my oldest friend, (although not my best, nor does he know every dark secret, somethings only Stephanie gets to know–she is my best friend) known him since we were fifteen.  Smitten with the boy pretty much at the end of freshman year after getting into an argument about what he wrote in my year book.  We got into a big debate and the discussion has lasted us now, oh shit, over twenty years–we just had our 20th highschool reunion–so yeah, 23 years?


I sent him anonymous flowers on Valentines Day junior year, I could keep it to myself no longer.  Then my senior year I finally got the “balls” to write him a real love letter and I put it in his locker and signed it with my real name.

He never said a word.

Years later I found out he still had that letter.


That’s enough to start a LifeTime movie event.  But that’s not how things unfolded between us, thank you God, rejection is protection.

He’s a life long lesson learned again and again and even now I can hear his voice saying my name and know, know without any kind of doubt, know that those old feelings were fantasy.  Reality would have been us being in a relationship, other than friendship, and he is a superb friend, he would not have made a superb romantic partner.  Not for me anyway.

Although I have never told him that we could never be romantic because his body chemistry totally turns me off.  Off I say.  His partner loves the way he smells, and I can’t handle it when he sweats, gah it’s stinky, we lived together as room mates too for a few months when he was in between places; there’s a weird off note to it that doesn’t sit well with me.

You imagine making love to some one you don’t like how they smell, that will kill the fantasy.  Does not matter how attractive they are.  Smell matters.  A lot.

But, man, we still get to be awesome friends.  And I love his little girls, and I have met his partner and she’s a doll and I want nothing of it.  I could have probably stayed in Madison.  I could have lived in the country in Wisconsin, I could have kids with some one.

I chose something different and I have no regrets.  Hearing my friend’s voice was a kind gentle loving God shot of what I have, me, myself, and the all important I, is so much more awesome than what Henry could have ever offered me.  I don’t want what he has.

I want what I have.

I got flowers today from girlfriends (totally unexpected!  I got flowers on Valentines Day!), I was given a gorgeous piece of framed art (Jess Hobbs photography 2011 Burning Man–Brolly Flock–umbrellas burning at night, passionate and eery) xoxoxoxo times eternity, Mrs. Fishkin.  Most importantly, I got to sit still for an hour and breathe and listen and share.

I got to smile a lot today.  Still smiling now.

Best Valentines Day ever.  Love to you all.

Old flames and new.


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