No Method, Just Madness

Note: This will make little sense if you haven’t already read Part I.

I knocked on the window…and it slowly slid down to reveal Dochechka beaming at me from inside the limo. “Hello Darling!” she chirped, “Get in!!”

Considering I was expecting someone with a British accent and a Y chromosome, I was fairly surprised to see her there. Not that I wasn’t happy to see her…just a bit confused and a little overwhelmed. (An emotional cocktail, which, apparently stimulates my tear ducts.) But confusion melted into joy as I climbed in and realized that along with my very best friend in the limo, there was champagne, strawberries, and cheese. I didn’t know what the hell was going on here, but having some gouda and brie thrown my way made me significantly more docile and decidedly less likely to put up a fight. If anyone ever wanted to mug me, they wouldn’t need a gun, just a big round of triple crème brie. (Shhh. That’s between us.)

Dochechka handed me another square red envelope, this one with a number “2″ on it. It was another laminated square card. On the front was a picture that was taken almost four years ago¹…a photo, snapped on happenstance, of me giving The Brit my phone number at the party where we first met with Dochechka looking on in mild interest. On the back of the card (again, paraphrased)…

Dear La Cubana Gringa,
Because you were so groovy when I first met you at that house party, your grooviness stuck in my mind for a long time after your first impression. I dug you. A lot. And even though it took us a year to start officially dating, I think there was a purpose in that…we each learned a lot about ourselves during that year…and when it came round to October of 2004, there was nothing to stop us!
Love, The Brit
PS – Your next instruction is to go to the place where our relationship officially began.

This was cause for pause. What did he mean by “where our relationship officially began?” Did he mean our bed (then, his bed)…where after our first date at Foreign Cinema, after quite a few drinks, he passed out cold while kissing me?³ Or did he just mean Foreign Cinema? The limo driver solved the puzzle for me by heading towards the restaurant.  (And thank goodness for that, because I hadn’t gotten around to making the bed before I left…making it less than presentable for a romantic stop off on what was beginning to look a lot like a scavenger hunt.)

At the restaurant, Dochechka and I were seated at the same table on the outside patio where The Brit and I sat on our first date there. I kept looking around thinking The Brit was going to arrive…but he never did. Brunch, however, did arrive…and it was quite lovely. The weather was clear, sunny and warm…the food was wonderful…and the mimosas were easing some of the overwhelm. When the bill should have arrived, it didn’t.

“Your bill,” the waitress informed us, “has been taken care of. But I do have this for you.”

She handed me red envelope number “3″ and then scuttled off with no further explanation. (Apparently everyone in San Francisco was in on this scheme!!) Another laminated card inside…this one with a black and white photo of the theater-like entrance to Foreign Cinema on the front and another note on the back…

Dear La Cubana Gringa,
As you sit here with Dochechka, who incidentally also enjoyed part of our first date here with us⁴, I hope that it brings back memories of our first dinner here. And of the many we’ve had here since with friends and family. Our first year together was pretty groovy…we jived pretty well together⁵ and every step of the way, I felt like we were on the same page about which direction we were heading.
Love, The Brit
PS – Your next instruction is to go to the scenic place where we celebrated our first year anniversary with a picnic.

And with that, we were back in the limo and on our way to Grand View Park. Fifteen minutes, lots of champagne, and quite a few strawberries later…we’d arrived. Dochechka grabbed a glass of champagne for herself, instructed me to bring mine, and to fill a third glass to bring with us to the top of the hill. So, with three glasses between the two of us, we climbed the 50 or so steep steps to get to the top of the park…a park that has breathtaking views of the entire north end of the city…with the Pacific Ocean, bright and blue that day, to the left, the vermillion Golden Gate Bridge directly in front, and a glittering downtown out to the right. It’s one of my favorite spots in the city, and one where The Brit and I had a lovely first year anniversary picnic.

There, at the windy summit, sitting on the park bench we found…

To be continued…

1. We met four years ago but because I was pseudo-dating² someone else and he was traveling so much, it took us a full year to start officially dating.
2. Like Dating, only with a guy who is significantly less trustworthy.
3. True story. He made up for it with molten chocolate lava cake shortly thereafter.
4. Also a true story. Dochechka was so keen on having drinks that night after our respective dates, that she dragged the guy she was on her date with over to Foreign Cinema just to ask me why the hell I wasn’t returning my text messages about when we were meeting for drinks. Dochechka herself will tell you this was not her greatest, most shining moment…however, we laugh heartily about it now.
5. Metaphorically speaking, of course. The Brit can’t jive to save his life.