I wasn't so excited when my friends started trying to hook me up with their own after my last breakup. It was awkward, to be honest. They meant well, but usually things just... Didn't quite work out. You'd think San Francisco would be the easiest place in the world to find someone for your tastes. It's a melting pot, and no, everyone's not gay. Let's be honest while we're at itβthere are a lot of absolutely drop dead gorgeous women here. I wouldn't stretch to call myself a skirt chaser, but if I was, I'd be in heaven, especially in hot days when gorgeous women come out in force, in dresses of all types and colors. More about that later, though.
I wasn't expecting much when Sarah, a college friend of mine from Berkeley said she had a friend who was in the same boat as I was: Open, but looking.
"Kelly is totally adorable," Sarah vouched. "She's from Berkeley, but you'll like her, I promise."
So, she was Berkeleyian. That was the term I decided on, long ago, though, someone else has to have thought of it before. People from Berkeley are something of a different breed, when I think about 'em. There's always something that's the least bit strange about them.
"So... Should I set up a date?" she asked.
"Sure," I responded. The deal was struck.
We were set up to meet at Dolores Park. I've always loved Dolores Park, because it was something of an anomaly. It spans a couple square blocks and is situated on a bit of hill. You can see downtown and a bit beyond if you look that direction. It's usually populated by hipsters from the Mission district, and parkgoers from the Castro. It's also usually warm there, at the park. San Francisco is cold city if you didn't know. The fog can get bone-chillingly cold, but it never seems to hang around the Mission district too long. Today, the entire city was warm, and Dolores Park was twice as such. It was sweltering today.
The plan was the same as most other people in the parkβBring beer and weed to last a few hours, and relax the day away. I'd done it by myself quite a bit, so even if the date went sour, at least I'd have company for a bit. The park never did much for my hormones, to be honest. Since it's usually so warm, women turn out in droves, oftentimes in dresses and skirts. Bikinis and the occasional topless sunbather weren't oddities, either.
We met around 12, my back was to her when she walked up, and she gave my shoulder a light squeeze when she arrived.
"Mike?" She asked.
I nodded, she smiled. "I'm Kelly,"
I held out my hand to shake. She batted it away playfully, and hugged me. She was shorter than I was, at 5'1" maybe, and I stood at 6'2. I looked her over after the hug, behind reflective sunglasses. She was my fantasy. Every inch of her was gorgeousβshe had milky white skin, without a blemish to be seen. Her hair was cut very specifically, she had a city-chic thing going on, don't ask me, I'm not keyed into fashion, so I really couldn't name a style. Her brown bangs stopped just above her eyebrows and the rest of her hair stopped at her shoulders, sheered completely straight. It gave her a bit of an exotic look, though, it's not a rare hairstyle in the city. She had a gorgeous summer-type dress, a deep reddish color, with spaghetti straps over her shoulders. Her fingernails and toenails seemed carefully groomed, and polished with a deep red. Her lipstick was the same color. Can't forget her eyes. They were green, but piercing. It was a bit of that creepy kind of piercing, where it seems like she could see into your thoughts. If this ended badly, I would definitely be masturbating tonight.
We found a nice spot under the sun and began to talk about this and that. We actually had quite a bit in common. She didn't seem like the type, but she loved comic books and that kind of art in general. She worked for an art supply store in Berkeley. It was really casual, unlike all of the other dates I'd been on. Usually, it was dinner, or movies, or awkward conversation, ending a handshake-- oh the handshake-- a brief hug, or, on one occasion the fastest kiss on the cheek in the world. This wasn't anything like that, though. Here we were, at the park, in the sun, halfway through a six pack of beer and a couple of bowls. She was lying on her back, using my stomach as a pillow while we talked. It got to the point where we eventually ran out of things to talk about, but the silence wasn't awkward. We broke it with humorous small talk every so often, but we were both content to lie in the grass. Okay, maybe Sarah was right.
In one of our silences, Kelly attacked. Her hands shot up over her head, and she began tickling me. I tried to fight off fits of giggles at first, but she was good. We started to wrestle a bit, and she climbed on top of me, straddling my lap as she continued her onslaught. Her dress was big enough to be splayed around her.