At one time, The Sunset District was once covered in a vast blanket of sand dunes; a place that was devoid of any homes, cars, roads, or people. They called it the "Outside Lands" and for a good reason. It was a place where the fog lingered day and night and was usually colder. Few people didn't travel out there far because there was no reason. But today, The Sunset District is one of the biggest neighborhoods in San Francisco; however, the fog still finds a home in the most western part of the city. And I should know because on most days when I wake up the fog is there, and when I come home it still hovers, almost as if it doesn't want to go away.
In some ways, I felt like I was living in the Outside Lands of my usual self; it was as if I was in some limbo place where no one else could find me. I was still trying to adjust to my new found freedom that I so eagerly wanted; the idea of being single was going to take some getting use to. I performed my daily commuting routine of getting up, going to work, going to the gym, and then getting back on the train. Rinse and repeat. And every night I got home I turned on the TV and watched (get ready for the gayest cliche) reruns of Sex and the City. Yes, I was living vicariously through each and every one of them. And before you begin to ask the question, yes, even Charlotte. She might have been uptight and predictable but at least she had hot sex from time to time! They made the single life look so effortless and fun even though it had its ups and downs.
One day, I decided to skip the gym because it had been a long day at work, so I jumped on the train and headed home to my usual ritual of Carrie and her wonderful girlfriends. I was beginning to feel like one of the girls and I was planning a night on the town with he four of them. I know, it sounds pathetic.
There I was on a Friday night sitting in front of the TV watching reruns of Sex and the City. What happened next was something I didn't expect: I got a phone call from a friend of mine. He invited me out for happy hour, and he wanted me to meet some of his friends. Being the domesticated homo I was at the time, I didn't make any promises and told him I might stop by. It was at this moment that I almost expected the words "get your ass out of the house, you loser" to appear at the bottom of TV. I stared at the screen for a moment and then the proverbial light bulb turned on. Shouldn't I be out there making my own adventures and being single and fabulous? That was rhetorical in case you didn't notice. I got up, turned off the TV and made my way to the gayest neighborhood in the world: The Castro.
Several train stops later, I made my way up from the subway and onto the street, and I could feel myself getting anxious with every step I took. I was nervous because this was something completely different then what I was use to doing. I was stepping outside myself and walking into something completely unexpected and exciting! It was new and unfamiliar territory, and as I approached the bar everything felt like it was moving in slow motion (think Bionic woman slow). As I walked into the bar, the music got louder and louder, and I could hear the voices from within. There I was at the entrance, and I was petrified. You would think I'd never been to a gay bar before, but at thirty years old I've had my fair share of bars and clubs. I couldn't help but feel everyone was staring at me. Was it that obvious that I was the new guy in town? As I stepped closer into the bar, I could feel the electricity running through my body from all the new found excitement. I was like a kid at a candy shop.
The room was crowded with men from wall to wall, and they all seemed to be enjoying themselves. Why shouldn't they be? They were, after all, at happy hour! After a while of looking around the bar, I spotted my friend, and he motioned for me to come over. I felt a smile creeping up on my face as I approached him, and he introduced me to the other men he was with. I realized that it felt good to be around real, tangible people that I could actually have a conversation with. And as I looked around and met several gazes from various men, I couldn't help but think that this was the beginning of something long overdue.
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