Everything Smells Like Honeysuckles

The exchange of over one hundred text messages, two sweet phone calls, much go-between advocacy from mutual friends, a cross-country flight, eleven gladiolas (one red), and all the desire for new love we could muster weren’t enough to change the simple fact that we just didn’t click. And yet, it’s nothing lost.

To paraphrase Warren Ellis, I walk around San Francisco falling in love ten times over on any given city block. The women here are vibrant, carefree, sunned and happy, confident.

DC has been my home too long. It’s not just the women; this city makes me happy from the first breath of sea-fresh air I take off the plane at SFO.