alternative title to this blog: I did it all for the nookie.
I'm heading to Cali for awhile. Would you like to have sex?
This is a paraphrased version of a message I just got from some random guy. He doesn't even specify that he's coming to San Francisco, so for all I know he's on his way to Rancho Cucamonga (the best name ever) or Hollister. I briefly thought about sending a message back saying essentially:
"Sure, on the following conditions: You're crazy-smart, witty, sarcastic, and genuinely kind. You also have to have impeccable taste in music. If you share MY taste in music it's a huge bonus. You must be a good kisser and have excellent dental hygiene. You must like to read and drink and wander (in every sense of the word). You must have at least one thing you're passionate about--be it worms or trains or nuclear fusion or Pluto's status as a planet (or lack thereof). You must be observant and able to appreciate subtleties in humor and meaning and emotion and expression. You must promise to never drink the milk out of your cereal bowl in my presence. You must be interested in people in all their shades of black, white, and gray. You must not be dogmatic or close-minded or spiteful or mean-spirited. You must love culture and travel and food and adventure and spontaneity and learning for learning's sake. You must not spit on the sidewalk or scratch your crotch in public. You must wear deodorant. You must be willing to let me burst into song when it becomes necessary (and it frequently does) and you must not be freaked out by my ability to experience every emotion known to mankind. And then some. Within a twenty minute period. You must be loving and warm and have emotional depth. You must never wear trucker hats or visors turned in some wonky way on your head. If you meet these conditions and you're disease free then, sure, come to "Cali" and let's have sex."
I briefly thought about it. And then I thought, "Fuck it. I'm busy."