I think back to San Francisco, the way the fog would engulf the city at dusk and the wind rippled your clothes after dark.
I think back to San Francisco, and I can't help but contrast it with New York, in so many ways more than the weather.
Like so many New Yorkers, my personal life was a jumble of hard liquor, friendly-fucks, and feminist angst-- usually in that order. And it had been that way, or some variation of that way for... well for as long as I can remember.
So why is it that within the first week of my trip to California, I stumble upon some kind of relationship?
It was exciting when he asked me out on a dinner date and I didn't panic.
It was surprising when I continued to see him after the dinner date.
And it was utterly shocking when he suggested we be exclusive.
Utterly. Shocking. I began to think the drugs smoked by hippies had accumulated in the fog, transcending me to an alter universe where I was more chill, and the men were neither gay nor assholes.
But why was I so shocked by basic consideration? I certainly didn't expect that.
But maybe I should have.
I am still surprised when he says he'll call and then does. And part of me hates that. Part of me is so frustrated with myself that I can preach female empowerment and still expect to be treated like shit.
But I think another part of me has recently learned to be a little kinder to myself. I've had a pretty bloody war with the male gender, and maybe I had some battle wounds that were unaccounted for.
I will never stop fighting for women.
But maybe in order to successfully fight for women, we have to stop fighting against men. Maybe fighting against men is what's defeating us. Perhaps in my effort to belittle men I've belittled myself. I was so focused on spiting their wants and needs that I forgot to listen to my own.
So maybe it's just the heat making me a tad delirious, but I'd like to offer up a peace treaty.
Men, from now on I will expect more from you.
But y'all betta bring it.