I have this weird love for San Francisco. Like... indie-film movie love. I totally get that "I Left my Heart in San Francisco" thing.
And you may be saying, "Why? What's so great about it?"
So I'm going to try to explain. San Francisco is like... the Manic Pixie Dream Girl of cities. And regardless who you are--you're that "I'm looking for meaning in my life" love interest. And then you meet. And it's quirky and awkwardly beautiful.
And at first you're completely charmed by her free spirit, the architecture, the fact that no one gives you weird looks because they're all a little weird too.
You're even a little amused by her liberal and unashamed pot smoking and thrill for the night life.
But then you notice you're almost breathing in the marijuana perfumed air almost every tenth breath in the more urban areas and you can't quite tell if those distant yells are cheers or angry shouting.
You stroll past sleeping homeless who practically sprawl across the side walk and find yourself mentally praying they are in fact sleeping.
You find those rolling curves you once admired are quickly the bane of your existence as you scale what feels like a vertical climb and just as sweat is dripping down your temples and you're about to break the whole thing off, you catch sight of something absolutely breath taking--like Huntington Park back lit by Grace Cathedral.
And in those moments, you completely forget why you were fighting. You make up while some Belle and Sebastian song plays in the background and credits roll...
And the next morning it starts all over again because the street smelled like piss when you woke up.
It's not really a healthy relationship, but it's there and weirdly hard to shake and twenty-something self-proclaimed intellectuals will philosophize on and idealize it for years after--never fully understanding what actually happened... You know, like every other indie movie romance.
And eventually you leave, and you tell yourself you're glad to get away... but you find yourself missing the way the fog rolls in from the bay and realizing a cup of Blue Bottle Coffee or La Boulange croissants cannot be replaced by Starbucks.
It's not really healthy... but it's there.