penninsular desires

It's been a few weeks since I did that long weekend up in San Francisco. Naturally I had the most marvelous, satieting, sigh-inducing time with K and J, two of my best friends, which I don't think I'll go into great detail for now, but I will say that it was incredibly sensual and enriching. Gourmet cakes, beautiful men, cuteness, sweetness, laughing, Nuevo Latin cuisine, modern art, hustle & bustle, little red Volkswagens, mint martinis, dancing to awful NRG music...

After a cool ride into the city from the airport via BART train, I disembarked at a station near the Castro district and walked up to Market Street and turned west on it. I crossed the corner of Castro and pulled out my phone to call J to tell him I'm now in the city. Across from me, by the trolley stop, was a handsome man. He just stood there looking at me. I felt his eyes on me and it made me nervous as I tried pushing the buttons on my phone. I thought, It's too damn early to have encounters, to ignite passions. After all, I just got here. I haven't even had my breakfast yet. And besides, I had little time to spare, I was there for only four days. He was handsome, tall, with brown hair and desirous eyes and an inviting smile. I had to say no to him in my mind. I spoke to J and agreed to meet him in a couple of hours. When I looked up after putting my phone away, the man was gone.

Walking eastward on Market I found that landmark place (at least to the gay world), Cafe Flore. It was comforting, sitting there once again after ten years, and seeing the Friday morning patrons. I got myself a coffee and an almond croissant, claimed a table, fished out Bertrand Russell and some postcards from my backpack, and welcomed the day....