Dear San Francisco,
We’ve been through a lot. Regardless of all the shit we’ve dealt with—literally and figuratively — we both know it’s time. I want to be honest—it’s not you. Well, it’s a little bit about you. But it’s also me, and, well, there’s also someone else. We met on BART.
Her name is Oakland.
I’m 30 now, and I need some stability, damn it.
I didn’t plan for it to happen. I didn’t mean to fall in love. It started with a few visits to Lake Merritt. No one peed on the patch of grass I was sitting on; the sun was actually shining; and I was smitten. And then before I knew it, those day trips turned into weekends, hiking in Tilden Park and feeding cows celery at Little Farm. A cow! A baby cow! And there were some nights too — at Fox Theater and Starline Social Club. The worst part was you didn’t even notice — you were too busy with your hairless cat’s acupuncture appointments.
I got so wrapped up in Oakland’s warmth, I forgot your coolness. It’s just that she knows how to keep things hot. And sure, your frosty attitude was intriguing at first. The uncertainty of not knowing if I’d need a jacket was charming in my 20s, but I’m 30 now, and I need some stability damn it.
But Oakland’s corn dog? It’s just…so much better. Bigger. Fresher. She brings her A game.
Oh, and the space. She gives me more space than you ever did. Space in which to live, to breathe and to have a dishwasher and a washer and dryer. Space for a backyard. A garden, even. Space for a dog and a walk-in closet. You gave me a closet the size of a coffin. A dish rack for our anniversary.
She’s friendly too. There’s a sense of community and welcoming to her that was always missing from your group of friends and their matching backpacks and Patagonia vests. People here don’t all work in tech, and they know how to recycle without being an asshole about it. She borrows sugar from her neighbors. They talk to each other.
I know this next part of my reasoning is going to be the hardest part for you. I know you’re sensitive about your corn dog. But I’m being super-honest, and it was mediocre at best at the Giants’ games. It certainly wasn’t giant. But Oakland’s corn dog? It’s just…so much better. Bigger. Fresher. She brings her A game.
Plus, we have so much in common. She likes going to the farmers’ market in Temescal, where no one gets elbowed over a pluot. And sitting in one of her 79,327,862.2 breweries. And hot-tubbing at Piedmont Springs. She doesn’t drag me to an arcade with alcohol, to a roller-skating rink after cocktails or to a trampoline park after we’ve dropped acid like you did. You’re like a “lost boy” from Peter Pan but with substance-abuse issues, and she’s more like Wendy. You’ll fly off at a moment’s notice to escape reality, but she’ll help me make a home.
Look, San Francisco, you’re going to be OK without me. You still have your fog security blanket, after all.
Sincerely,
Allyson
Hey! The Bold Italic recently launched a podcast, This Is Your Life in Silicon Valley. Check out the full season or listen to the episode below featuring Hunter Walk, investor and former head of product at YouTube. More coming soon, so stay tuned!
