Apartment: A Love Story

We're selling our San Francisco home. I feel an ugly cry coming on.

I showed clear signs of stalker behavior very early on in the relationship. So early, it wasn’t even a relationship…yet.

A close friend was visiting me in San Francisco and I wanted her to taste the extreme pleasure of (undoubtedly) the most popular taco spot in town, La Taqueria. We waited in the ever present line, treated efficiently (but borderline rudely) by the woman who is always at the cashier position and then watched the man with the tiny hands (iykyk) prepare our tacos.

In between bites of the most luscious chicken, guacamole, salsa and frijoles you will ever put in your mouth, my friend asked me about my date the previous weekend. “It was great!” I replied. “And, in fact, he lives just around the corner from this place.”

“He lives around here?!” my friend said with some cautious surprise.

The place with the best tacos is, of course, located in The City’s Mission District. A colorful, congested and richly cultured area of town that still has fun bars, unique shops, great restaurants of all cuisines and the best taco and burrito joints bar none. Quite often, when anyone asked what the Mission was like, the words “gritty” and “hella Mexican” were always included in my description. From the details I shared with her of the man on my date, she determined that the person and the neighborhood did not align.

(Above: I post this video solely to make your mouth water)

Making Bad Decisions

So when we got back into the car after lunch, she suggested we drive by his house. “Aren’t you curious about where he lives?” she said. “Girl, it was one date…I’m sure I’ll see his place eventually.”

“Well, I want to see and we have to go that way to get to the freeway” was her reply and since she was in the driver’s seat…

[quick sidebar on this friend…we have known each other since high school. We went to our prom together after she told me we were going, bought the tickets for both of us and a corsage for me to wear on the night of. When this woman says she wants to do something, unless you refocus her attention on attractive men, her children or something tasty to eat, there will be no stopping her.]

Sometimes your head and your gut team up to shout “This isn’t a good idea! Distract her with ice cream! Play “I spy…” something, anything!!” But the effort to divert never made it from inner monologue to vocal expression and we passed the point of no return to suggest that we head in the opposite direction.

As we turned the corner on Capp Street, she asked “So which house is it?” Truth is, I didn’t know…until I screamed “Oh shit! It’s that one!” Because he was standing right out in front.

But it was too late, as I sank lower into the passenger seat in a weak attempt to disappear from sight, his eyes made contact with mine and mine with his. The simultaneous connection of sight is supposed to be romantic in most stories. Except in this one, try to imagine only the top half of my face in view. Essentially all he saw were a pair of eyeballs on a bald head peering out from behind a car door.

But he was polite and gave a faint wave of his hand that said both “oh hey…what are you doing on my street?” and “Oh no! That dude I went on one date with is a complete whack job!”

My friend gunned it and we sped out of there like the police were chasing us! At this point, I had reduced my entire six foot frame into a near child’s pose on the floorboard of the car. I did not know what the meaning of this word was before this incident, but I was truly mortified.

And now you know why I hate being a passenger and always insist on driving.

But also, little did I know that this was my first viewing of an address I would eventually call home for nearly ten years.

The Sun is Always Sunnier…

As you may have guessed, the man in front of his house worried about dating a level 5 stalker eventually became my husband. After living a year or two in my home in nearby Daly City and a brief work stint in London where the weather is surprisingly similar to the former, my eventual husband said “Let’s move to my place, it’s sunnier over there.” I was a little suspect of that claim but after reaching and maintaining a shade of pale skin that was almost translucent and in serious need of vitamin D, the thought of waking up to a few more brighter days sounded very attractive.

And, as usual, he was right. For those of you not familiar with San Francisco Bay Area weather micro-climates, the eastern side of the city gets more sunshine than the west. There were many days when I left work near the Embarcadero right on the San Francisco Bay in the easternmost part of town. Quite often, I’d take in the lovely view of sparkling sunshine reflecting off the water just under the workhorse Bay Bridge. One would be led to believe it was going to be a gorgeous, warm day until…you drive about five or ten minutes to the west where the temperature drops several degrees and, on a good day, it is cloudy. On a not so good day, thick, rolling, can’t see shit right in front of me, fog…everyday, all summer long.

Summertime in Daly City!

At this point in our relationship, about the five year mark, I had grown to love this man so much that he could’ve suggested we move to the sun because he needed more natural lighting and I’d be all in. So on January 2, 2014, his address became my address.

Soon, it will be neither of our addresses.

Let It Go

We’re putting that San Francisco home on the market for sale. When we were deciding to make the move to Portugal, a big reason for us to make this move was an effort to simplify and scale down our lives. Although we are grateful and proud to be owners of two properties in California, that has not always been easy. Thankfully, we have both remained employed, healthy and wise enough with our money to maintain a city apartment.

I won’t bore you with the details but let’s say being responsible for your portion of a one hundred year old (plus) home in a city with a high cost of living is quite a task while you are living in it. Residing over five thousand miles away from that property makes for even more hours spent worried about the latest maintenance issue or necessary upgrade. I’ve written about this recently…you can move away from your worries, but they fly business class in your head even if you’re sitting in coach. Always.

So, we’re eliminating one more worry.

This is all part of the process of making somewhere new your home. It usually requires that you loosen or sever the connections from your previous one. Just by sheer distance, often those connections turn into disconnections because you’re simply not there anymore. Other entanglements can only be unentangled by you.

More Than a Feeling

For real though, I realize that I’m just talking about selling an apartment. But after you’ve poured years into furnishing, fixing, protecting, entertaining, cooking, eating, cleaning, sleeping, nesting, working, loving and just plain living in one physical place, you develop some strong feelings for that particular address. It is more than a house. It is home.

This is the home where I first met my mother-in-law who, to this day, will tell the story of how she knew right away her son and I were a couple even though we had not defined our relationship at that point. During a backyard barbecue party to celebrate her visit to SF, our rescue dog Stanley, who was skittish around most people (ok, all people) greeted me at the front door like I was his best friend. Stanley chose me before Jeremy did!

This is the home where my husband returned after a run to ask “is it weird that I have searing pain in both forearms? Do you think it could be a heart attack?” The answer was “Yes! Get in the goddamn car right now! We’re going to the hospital!”

This is the home that made me feel secure when my worrying, screaming and crying was just too much to handle at times during an ugly, work related lawsuit that ended up costing hundreds of thousands of dollars. Money I had to scrape together with savings, loans and family assistance to pay off.

This is the home that hosted many game nights with dear friends playing cut throat rounds of Mexican train dominoes and Uno. The numerous dinner parties, birthday gatherings, movie nights, Pride barbecues and impromptu performances by beloved local drag queens kept this address from ever getting too quiet and solidified my vision for what a home should feel like.

This is the home that sheltered and nurtured our little family of two humans and three dogs cohabitating and sharing couches, beds, blankets, tasty treats and love…so much love!

Selling The Dream

As a teenager, I used to daydream frequently about a lot of things…getting my license and driving my friends around in a cool car. Getting a job and saving my money to travel to London, Rome and New York City. But the ongoing daydream was the one where I laid the blueprint for what I wanted my life to look like in the future when I could escape the suburbs and begin making my own decisions.

I pictured myself living in the center of a city in a sexy loft apartment…think the music video for “Pleasure Principle” by Janet Jackson where she’s dancing in a converted warehouse with random, gigantic statues and classic cars (inexplicably) used as decor. I’d come home each day wearing knee pads for no apparent reason, dance and drink Evian until bedtime. I wanted that life!

And I wanted to live in a busy neighborhood with coffee shops, bars, nightclubs and kitschy boutiques with friends in a full array of backgrounds, cultures and hair colors. Living in the Mission district didn’t give me the funky warehouse apartment with a sliding metal door and a light switch that turns on the stereo. But it did fulfill my childhood vision in every other way possible. I will always cherish this address.

Plot Twist

Sometimes I think of life like a book or, since I’m not a huge reader, a television series. When one chapter or season ends, there is always a next until there is nothing more to write or watch. We started a new season with a location change to Portugal where we’re making new stories to tell and memories to cherish. But like most good stories and shows, there are layers to this tale and we are now finding our way to wrap up the San Francisco storyline.

In my life, San Francisco and the home we shared there were the strongest supporting characters ever…truly Oscar worthy! When the final episode airs, there won’t be a dry eye in the house. Our house.

And Real Quick Before I Go…

Anybody want to live in the apartment I just poured my heart out over?

Here’s the link. https://1032cappstreet.com/

It’s time for someone new to make this address the setting for their San Francisco epic. I hope their series runs even longer, with plenty of romantic interests, special guest appearances and a long running love story.