Jill A. is a Bad Influence on Me and I Love It

May 14, 2007 22:07

Several weeks ago, I bumped into Jill outside the Berkeley Rep. and gave her my number and e-mail after a moment of hesitation. When she was at our high school reunion, she had seen Colleen and found out we’re both in the Bay Area, but she didn’t ask for my contact info. I assumed, therefore, she wasn’t interested in getting together. I have been very happily proven wrong and we’ve been seeing quite a lot of each other.

Jill background story:
In high school, I didn’t meet Jill until junior year, by which time people had for the most part settled into their social circles. Jill was part of the very smart, very hip, very artistic crowd that were always nice and I got along with, but never knew very well. I was impressed by her intelligence-unlike myself she seemed to excel effortlessly in all subjects- and her beauty. She was always very nice, but not very effusive so I could never tell if she liked me or was just too nice to be unfriendly.

We had a long pleasant dinner at La Med and then shortly thereafter she made it to my Easter brunch and brought the most stunning bouquet of flowers I think anyone has ever given me. A little later, I made dinner and we saw “Blue Door,” together at the Berkeley REP, followed by an outing with a gang of her rowdy guy-friends to see “The Cripple of Innishman.” Last Monday we had dinner together at Samovar, got ice-cream, sat in Dolores Park and then went to an obscure little wine bar in a dodgy looking alley. I didn’t get home until nearly midnight, by which time the huge glass of wine she treated me to had gotten me rather tipsy.

Last Thursday night was a particular highlight. Jill invited me to the outdoor movie in Dolores Park which was the old “Willey Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.” She got chips and dip, I got treats from Tartine, and the rowdy international boys brought booze. We were later joined by a friend of her friend’s friend, Paul, a charming and flamingly gay new transplant. He instantly was cuddling up to me, calling me ‘hon,’ etc. and we fell into that odd bond that flamey gay men & straight (or mostly straight) women sometimes share. He plied us with booze and soon Willey Wonka was the FUNNIEST THING EVER!

By the end of the movie I definitely needed Jill to help walk me to BART and Paul frolicked along with us, at one point nearly in front of a car. He told us that he’s actually Italian and that he should be “Paulo!” Somehow this devolved into exuberant exclamations of faux Italian that culminated in me calling him “Fagissimo!” and him replying, “I am, Belissima! I am!” “Fagissimo!” “Belissima!” all the way home….

Upon my arrival at Berkeley BART, I decided I was actually too drunk-drunk to walk home, so I would get a cab. A cute boy from BART asked if I was okay, to which I replied I was rather too drunk to walk home and would therefore take a cab so yes, I was okay. He offered to walk me home and make sure that I was neither hit by cars nor accosted. Foolish though it may sound, I accepted and Johnny walked me home. We chatted exuberantly and he left me at the gate asking if he could see me sober. I told him my e-mail address, but didn’t write it down. (Much too drunk.) He e-mailed me that night asking to go to coffee. So…. “Why de ‘ell not?”

Life is so good.

sf, fun, friends

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