I think I’m falling in love with San Francisco. Here are the reasons why:

1) if a man in golden leotard were to walk down the street with a small dog there is a good chance someone would make a comment about how cute his dog was. 2) I once attended a free reading where the discussion that followed (about the differences between gentrification and displacement) was at such a high level I had to look up a few words on my phone 3) it is beautiful, but it is also extremely random. I often walk by things that take my breath away (like the Sutro baths, pictured above) only to then walk by something else that confuses me for the rest of the day. Once, I saw a girl who had rented out a store front so that she could squish herself into an aquarium. Inside the aquarium, through the haze of condensation on the glass I could see that she was crying. 4) the bookstores (and there are many of them) are enchanting. They remind me, through their uniqueness, that books are full of ideas and that the worth of an idea is incalculable. 5) the museums, art galleries and street art are all spectacular. Also, you are allowed to drink in some of the museums, sometimes.

The reasons why I don’t like San Francisco are still valid. The massive gap between the rich and the poor is … disgusting. I am annoyed by the unrepentantly narcissistic hipsters, wildly over priced coffees, the high cost of everything, the tardy and unreliable transit, the culture of working till burn-out, the rampant and unchecked competitiveness that turns casual get togethers into impromptu networking opportunities, the attitude of entitlement, the apparent hipster obsession with Asian girls and the tendency toward turning everything into a damn app.

But, I guess it’s like this: if San Francisco were a person they would be your most interesting and annoying friend. You’d invite them over for a coffee and they would show up in a panda costume tastefully accessorized with an iPhone6 and designer sunglasses. They would track what looked like mud into your living room, blow marijuana smoke into your face and keep posting photos to instagram, but you would still have a good time. They would bring over some kind of food you didn’t know existed and talk to you all night. Your conversation would cover every vice and virtue possible. It would be non-judgmental and nuanced and by the end of it you would think you had learned something beautiful, something no one else could have shown you. Then, San Francisco would leave and you would complain about them, but you would not fail to invite them over again because you’d be quick to admit to yourself that you didn’t know anyone else like them. No one as smart, as interesting, as wise and as crazy.