Alright, chickadees, you KNOW you want to hear all the gory details! D. contacted me sometime last week, commenting on a photo and alluding to travel. I checked his profile and we do seem to have travel in common, but little else. He asked if I would be interested in meeting for a drink, coffee or getting something to eat. I reluctantly set up a meeting for this afternoon.
We’d agreed to meet at Four Barrel Coffee in the Mission. As I said before, I don’t really care for the Mission. It’s full of what San Franciscans like to call “hipsters,” but I prefer to call “dorks who think they’re cool.” There’s no parking. Even if you find parking, your car is NOT safe. All bars are dive bars; everywhere is a little (or a lot) grungy. The only plus to me is that it’s usually slightly warmer and less windy than my side of town. I took the bus to the Mission, hopped off at 15th Street and walked over a few blocks. Upon locating Four Barrel Coffee, I took a look inside. There didn’t appear to be anyone who looked like his photo, so I sent him a text saying that I was outside and asking if he was standing in line for coffee. He said that he was by the door. When I texted that I was sitting on a bench outside, he walked over and introduced himself. D. is kind of your average-looking guy, maybe slightly cute, depending on if you’re used to looking at San Francisco men. He seemed nervous. I asked if he’d already gotten coffee. He replied that he doesn’t drink coffee, but thought it would be a good central location for us to meet. I told him that I don’t drink coffee, either! We decided to walk around. While walking, he asked if I’d eaten, which I hadn’t. He suggested that we go to Luna Park for dinner. I’ve always heard about that restaurant, but never gone there before. We walked over and I checked out the menu. It wasn’t that extensive, but seemed fine to me. We were seated in the back. The staff was efficient, but the place was EXTREMELY loud. D. ordered moules frites and a Trumer Pils. I ordered macaroni and cheese with broccoli and also had a Trumer Pils. When the food arrived, it looked very good. I really liked my mac and cheese. He offered some of his mussels to me, but I explained that I don’t eat mussels, oysters or clams. I tried out the frites, though, and they met with my approval. D. is originally from South Carolina and has been in San Francisco for about 15 years. He’s more of an outdoorsy person; enjoys biking a lot. He seems to have traveled a fair amount, so we mostly talked about that. The conversation wasn’t quite as flowing as on my dates with the previous two men, but he seemed to loosen up and feel comfortable after the first thirty minutes. After dinner, he asked if I was up for more drinks. I didn’t mind having one more drink, but wanted to head home after that; my plans were to finally start my laundry. We walked to a bar called Homestead. It was an interesting bar in that there were paintings of naked women all around, plus part of that famous Dylan Thomas poem “Do not go gentle into that good night… Rage, rage against the dying of the light” above the bar. The crowd was the usual so-called “hipsters.” We continued talking about travel and food. Since his most recent trip to Thailand and Japan, he’s on a quest to find the best ramen in San Francisco. One of his top three choices thus far is Ken Ken, another place I’ve heard of, but never had the pleasure of trying out. My favorite ramen place is still Suzu Noodle House in Japantown, followed by Katana-Ya on Geary. I do NOT like Tanpopo in Japantown, no matter what high marks it’s been given! I asked D. how long he’s been on the site and how many people he’s met thus far. He said that he just started on the site (i.e. a week or thereabouts), so I’m the first person he’s met. I told him that I’ve been on there 5 or 6 weeks (one of those weeks being spent in Paris) and that he’s the third person I’ve met, but I don’t really have time to set all these dates up with everyone. It’s already starting to irritate me! Once our beers were finished, I said that I should be going. D. walked me to the bus stop. He said that he lives in the Haight, but would “catch a ride.” I thanked him for dinner and drinks, and said that I enjoyed talking to him about travel. He’s a nice guy, but the date was kind of uneventful. I think he may end up being a friend, though. We’ll see.