It was the summer of 1999. I met A at a party. Strictly speaking, it was a pub crawl on a lazy Sunday afternoon. I was living at the time in Nob Hill with my much-too-old boyfriend named Michael. He was a tall man, and he had a very nice apartment that was a block away from my girlfriend Kim. She had a little dog that looked like a pig, and when I finished my work in Palo Alto, I'd drive to Nob Hill, circling around Polk Street for a long time before finding a spot to park. I drove an Audi A4 Quattro.
Michael had a bizarre business, and he was fatherly, and I disliked him within a month of dating. But I liked his apartment. I loved his hardwood floors and clean spotless bedroom. He was never really around, and I was too busy playing with my girlfriend and her pig like dog to pay any attention to his whereabouts. I was more involved in going out for dinner with friends, and enjoying the city scene. At that point I had finally stopped going to Sushi Groove, where my previous boyfriend took me often, because he lived in North Beach and was in that gang of college graduates from either Stanford or MIT, who frequented that joint.
I had by then briefly dated a Danish guy who was hot and tall, but incredibly boring. His charm failed me. When all the girlfriends were chasing after that Danish guy with a very Scandinavian name, I was slowly planning my exit. He served a purpose, he was the opposite of my ex boyfriend, who was shorter, blond, romantic and laid back west coast breed. He was good looking, exotic, pragmatic and pleasant.
When Michael was not around, I was happier, and when he was around, I let him go down on me until I came and then I just fell asleep. He was older and less demanding, and I was young and arrogant.
A good friend was turning 33 that year. He was throwing himself a party. I went to Union Street to meet up with my girlfriends and this birthday boy. I was in a white shirt and blue jeans. I had a ponytail and minimum makeup. The second bar we went to on Union Street produced a very tall and handsome man, he was having a beer and chatting up with another friend of a friend, who went by the name of Will and was even taller than the beer drinking man. Will was 6'6" and went to Columbia just like the rest of these birthday bash people. I was finding myself surrounded by Ivy League types and wanted to escape. That was when Michael came into my life, who took me to Le Colonial and Georgiou. But by then he was boring me and I had to get back to my roots of young people.
A was immediately identified as this guy who was rich. He had sold his company by then and had millions of dollars. A venture capitalist, a man I dated on and off for years had gone to Stanford like A did, and as it turned out they were quite good friends. A had gone to MIT Sloan and took pride in his education background and that turned me off. That and the fact the girls next to me were whispering into each others ears about how much money A made in that deal.
As I was rapidly losing interest and planning my escape to the nearby shoe store and nail saloon, A approached me and asked for my email. At the time, AOL was in and I had an user name.
When the evening was over I realized that perhaps it was time to move out of Michael's place, because I knew something was about to happen with A.
A week later, I left this older, poor soul who thought he had a shot with me. I promised that I would go and see the fireworks with him, but I just did not show up. It was the end of Michael and the start of A. I was quite inspired by A, my experience with A was erotic and casual. While he did the chase, I was quite taken by his intellect and playfulness. He sent emails of a girl who took a liking of him from that pub crawl and shared it with me, as a way to declare his interest in me.
We saw each other fairly consistently. A lived in lower Pacific Heights off Fillmore in a Victorian. He came from a well to do family and was a native Californian.
I began to hang out with his friends. He began to message me frequently, but our dates were less than impressive. He was more into staying in than going out, while he had a lot of money, he was so concerned about spending it that his favorite meal remained to be Taco Hell.
When I started to travel again for work, A was fading into the background. By the time my very last serious relationship in my 20s occurred in the fall of the same year, I had stopped seeing A.
When I moved into my next boyfriend's house, one evening I received an instant message from A, he had asked me how I was doing, why I had stopped seeing him and whether I'd be interested in spending evenings with him at his place, given that by then I had worked in downtown San Francisco.
I remembered staring at the screen and started to cry. I had felt something once for A, but by then, the moments were gone and it was as if he had not realized that I was gone. Was he that forgetful?
A year later I ran into A again, he had gotten married to this blond woman, and he was going on a honeymoon that was not unlike my last trip. We spoke briefly and that was the last time I had heard of him.
When A found me on Linkedin two and half years ago, I was surprised that he remembered me at all. He sent emails and photos of me, from twelve years ago. He had apparently filed my stuff away, including every email exchange. Then he sent me emails of his various of attempt of trying to locate me. I had once used an hotmail account which I had disabled. He said his email to that account, was bounced in 2005. He had attempted to reach out to me on several occasions, and he did not know how to find me. My Facebook had a security setting that no one could find me. Even though we had the same friends.
A told me that he had divorced several years ago, he had found out that a woman that he was involved with, briefly, had a daughter, and he had become a father several years ago after learning about it, he was living on his own and was just out of a relationship. Soon a trip was arranged and A came to see me. I was terrified about not remembering what he looked like. But then I realized the moment I stepped off the BART he was no different than when we first met twelve some years ago. He said that I did not change much either.
We met up for a nice meal and then A took me to his hotel. We did not say much and then we all caught up. We kept in touch after that visit, and we talked often. A was often in Boston, where he had invested in several companies through his contacts at the graduate school program, he majored in math and was quite familiar with derivatives. I was always fond of men who majored in math or science and when he told me about what he was doing in Boston and I started to remember about my ex boyfriend who also went to Cambridge, MA and how he often talked about the same area. A told me that he had a choice between Harvard and Stanford, and that he chose Stanford after going to a prep school back in New Hampshire.
My memories were quite spotty at the time, so as A brought back memories of our collective past, I started to remember things, including my twenties which I had long forgotten. We communicated often and A made another trip down to see me. We had a nice time together. Then something intense and stupid happened.
I texted A and said "fuck off" and we then spend two months attempting to repair that short lived affair. A then met a woman who sort of reminded him of me, and then they had a child.
From time to time, A would write. He'd find on facebook and he'd message me, just like he once did on AOL.
I was not exactly sure how to respond to his messages. I seemed to get him worked up easily. Lately it was about a silly comment I made about our sex being awful. A was offended I think, slightly. I honestly thought that it was awful because I had not had any experience with sex for years after dropping off the dating pool, and I was not really comfortable stripping down. It was awkward to say the least. But A thought it was great. A wanted to get to to bottom of it, he wanted to tell me that I was not living a complete life because I feared intimacy.
I wanted to tell A that I had no problem with intimacy, it was the men I was with who feared intimacy and they did not want to be with me in the end. But A would not believe me. He still thought that I walked out on him. Which I guess technically I did, the first time I went to another man, the second time, I told him to fuck off and then went to another man.
But part of me thought perhaps A should take partial responsibility for it. He did not follow through. He pursued me, both times, heavily, and then became less interested in me when I was displaying affection back. He cared about me but did not think realistically our relationship would have ever worked out. He wanted emotional connection, the closeness that would warrant access to me, but then he was terribly controlling and argumentative. He would not see me now because if he saw me he couldn't resist having sex with me, as if my opinion would not have counted. He would not see me because he said that he would not be able to control the chemistry and it was too risky. But I would not have felt the same way so I didn't know what he was talking about. As he was expecting his baby he texted me and wanted me to meet him in the peninsula, where he was visiting and staying, and it was right around my birthday. I said no. I was not interested in being his booty caller. He was a pain in the ass.
Our common friends would say that A was a smart, intelligent, kind, and fun person to around. They loved him. They always told me how much they enjoyed being with him, but A was an asshole when he was around me, he always wanted to pick a fight, he always wanted to lecture me, he enjoyed seeing me becoming defensive. So I no longer played his game.
I ignored his testy messages. I ignored him all together. He still sent messages on FB. He checked in to see if I was alright. He knew that I was pretty down recently, and he was feeling protective of me, but I just wanted to be left alone. I didn't need A anymore, or for that matter, B, C, D and E.
Though I'd be lying if I said I remembered nothing about A. I would always remember August 2011, when A called and I was walking on Embarcadero, it was an exceptionally warm, sunny day. The Farmer's Market was busy as usual. A told me that he just finished rowing, and he just showered, and he was about to go and pick up his daughter. He was asking me how I was, and he told me that he was excited to see me soon. I didn't know what I was feeling, and how my life would be turned upside down for two good years. I only knew I for once, felt something rare, raw and invigorating.
It was a lovely beginning. But in the end everything fell flat.
Michael had a bizarre business, and he was fatherly, and I disliked him within a month of dating. But I liked his apartment. I loved his hardwood floors and clean spotless bedroom. He was never really around, and I was too busy playing with my girlfriend and her pig like dog to pay any attention to his whereabouts. I was more involved in going out for dinner with friends, and enjoying the city scene. At that point I had finally stopped going to Sushi Groove, where my previous boyfriend took me often, because he lived in North Beach and was in that gang of college graduates from either Stanford or MIT, who frequented that joint.
I had by then briefly dated a Danish guy who was hot and tall, but incredibly boring. His charm failed me. When all the girlfriends were chasing after that Danish guy with a very Scandinavian name, I was slowly planning my exit. He served a purpose, he was the opposite of my ex boyfriend, who was shorter, blond, romantic and laid back west coast breed. He was good looking, exotic, pragmatic and pleasant.
When Michael was not around, I was happier, and when he was around, I let him go down on me until I came and then I just fell asleep. He was older and less demanding, and I was young and arrogant.
A good friend was turning 33 that year. He was throwing himself a party. I went to Union Street to meet up with my girlfriends and this birthday boy. I was in a white shirt and blue jeans. I had a ponytail and minimum makeup. The second bar we went to on Union Street produced a very tall and handsome man, he was having a beer and chatting up with another friend of a friend, who went by the name of Will and was even taller than the beer drinking man. Will was 6'6" and went to Columbia just like the rest of these birthday bash people. I was finding myself surrounded by Ivy League types and wanted to escape. That was when Michael came into my life, who took me to Le Colonial and Georgiou. But by then he was boring me and I had to get back to my roots of young people.
A was immediately identified as this guy who was rich. He had sold his company by then and had millions of dollars. A venture capitalist, a man I dated on and off for years had gone to Stanford like A did, and as it turned out they were quite good friends. A had gone to MIT Sloan and took pride in his education background and that turned me off. That and the fact the girls next to me were whispering into each others ears about how much money A made in that deal.
As I was rapidly losing interest and planning my escape to the nearby shoe store and nail saloon, A approached me and asked for my email. At the time, AOL was in and I had an user name.
When the evening was over I realized that perhaps it was time to move out of Michael's place, because I knew something was about to happen with A.
A week later, I left this older, poor soul who thought he had a shot with me. I promised that I would go and see the fireworks with him, but I just did not show up. It was the end of Michael and the start of A. I was quite inspired by A, my experience with A was erotic and casual. While he did the chase, I was quite taken by his intellect and playfulness. He sent emails of a girl who took a liking of him from that pub crawl and shared it with me, as a way to declare his interest in me.
We saw each other fairly consistently. A lived in lower Pacific Heights off Fillmore in a Victorian. He came from a well to do family and was a native Californian.
I began to hang out with his friends. He began to message me frequently, but our dates were less than impressive. He was more into staying in than going out, while he had a lot of money, he was so concerned about spending it that his favorite meal remained to be Taco Hell.
When I started to travel again for work, A was fading into the background. By the time my very last serious relationship in my 20s occurred in the fall of the same year, I had stopped seeing A.
When I moved into my next boyfriend's house, one evening I received an instant message from A, he had asked me how I was doing, why I had stopped seeing him and whether I'd be interested in spending evenings with him at his place, given that by then I had worked in downtown San Francisco.
I remembered staring at the screen and started to cry. I had felt something once for A, but by then, the moments were gone and it was as if he had not realized that I was gone. Was he that forgetful?
A year later I ran into A again, he had gotten married to this blond woman, and he was going on a honeymoon that was not unlike my last trip. We spoke briefly and that was the last time I had heard of him.
When A found me on Linkedin two and half years ago, I was surprised that he remembered me at all. He sent emails and photos of me, from twelve years ago. He had apparently filed my stuff away, including every email exchange. Then he sent me emails of his various of attempt of trying to locate me. I had once used an hotmail account which I had disabled. He said his email to that account, was bounced in 2005. He had attempted to reach out to me on several occasions, and he did not know how to find me. My Facebook had a security setting that no one could find me. Even though we had the same friends.
A told me that he had divorced several years ago, he had found out that a woman that he was involved with, briefly, had a daughter, and he had become a father several years ago after learning about it, he was living on his own and was just out of a relationship. Soon a trip was arranged and A came to see me. I was terrified about not remembering what he looked like. But then I realized the moment I stepped off the BART he was no different than when we first met twelve some years ago. He said that I did not change much either.
We met up for a nice meal and then A took me to his hotel. We did not say much and then we all caught up. We kept in touch after that visit, and we talked often. A was often in Boston, where he had invested in several companies through his contacts at the graduate school program, he majored in math and was quite familiar with derivatives. I was always fond of men who majored in math or science and when he told me about what he was doing in Boston and I started to remember about my ex boyfriend who also went to Cambridge, MA and how he often talked about the same area. A told me that he had a choice between Harvard and Stanford, and that he chose Stanford after going to a prep school back in New Hampshire.
My memories were quite spotty at the time, so as A brought back memories of our collective past, I started to remember things, including my twenties which I had long forgotten. We communicated often and A made another trip down to see me. We had a nice time together. Then something intense and stupid happened.
I texted A and said "fuck off" and we then spend two months attempting to repair that short lived affair. A then met a woman who sort of reminded him of me, and then they had a child.
From time to time, A would write. He'd find on facebook and he'd message me, just like he once did on AOL.
I was not exactly sure how to respond to his messages. I seemed to get him worked up easily. Lately it was about a silly comment I made about our sex being awful. A was offended I think, slightly. I honestly thought that it was awful because I had not had any experience with sex for years after dropping off the dating pool, and I was not really comfortable stripping down. It was awkward to say the least. But A thought it was great. A wanted to get to to bottom of it, he wanted to tell me that I was not living a complete life because I feared intimacy.
I wanted to tell A that I had no problem with intimacy, it was the men I was with who feared intimacy and they did not want to be with me in the end. But A would not believe me. He still thought that I walked out on him. Which I guess technically I did, the first time I went to another man, the second time, I told him to fuck off and then went to another man.
But part of me thought perhaps A should take partial responsibility for it. He did not follow through. He pursued me, both times, heavily, and then became less interested in me when I was displaying affection back. He cared about me but did not think realistically our relationship would have ever worked out. He wanted emotional connection, the closeness that would warrant access to me, but then he was terribly controlling and argumentative. He would not see me now because if he saw me he couldn't resist having sex with me, as if my opinion would not have counted. He would not see me because he said that he would not be able to control the chemistry and it was too risky. But I would not have felt the same way so I didn't know what he was talking about. As he was expecting his baby he texted me and wanted me to meet him in the peninsula, where he was visiting and staying, and it was right around my birthday. I said no. I was not interested in being his booty caller. He was a pain in the ass.
Our common friends would say that A was a smart, intelligent, kind, and fun person to around. They loved him. They always told me how much they enjoyed being with him, but A was an asshole when he was around me, he always wanted to pick a fight, he always wanted to lecture me, he enjoyed seeing me becoming defensive. So I no longer played his game.
I ignored his testy messages. I ignored him all together. He still sent messages on FB. He checked in to see if I was alright. He knew that I was pretty down recently, and he was feeling protective of me, but I just wanted to be left alone. I didn't need A anymore, or for that matter, B, C, D and E.
Though I'd be lying if I said I remembered nothing about A. I would always remember August 2011, when A called and I was walking on Embarcadero, it was an exceptionally warm, sunny day. The Farmer's Market was busy as usual. A told me that he just finished rowing, and he just showered, and he was about to go and pick up his daughter. He was asking me how I was, and he told me that he was excited to see me soon. I didn't know what I was feeling, and how my life would be turned upside down for two good years. I only knew I for once, felt something rare, raw and invigorating.
It was a lovely beginning. But in the end everything fell flat.
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