Missed Connections: The Two Types of Men You Meet in SF

Hot Hipster Homeboy from Hayes- W4M- 23 (Hayes Valley)

It was a Wednesday morning like any other… or so I thought.
I rolled out of bed on a sunny San Francisco morning and walked down to Hayes Valley. All I had on my mind on the way to Ritual Coffee Roasters was the long day of work I had ahead, and how much the MUNI sucks.
Then my entire existence came to a
S
T
O
P
.
There you were standing in front of the coffee stand.
You were standing perfectly straight.
I could tell because your jeans were so unbelievably skinny that any slouch in posture could have been revealed instantly.
God I couldn’t stop looking at your jeans. You could get any size 0 girl like myself to put down that Dynamo Donut.
Your mustard beanie sat so gracefully on top of your intentionally messy do.
Your gray American Apparel hoodie was unzipped just enough to reveal an American Apparel jersey V-neck. Both so tight. So tantalizingly tight.
It was your mustache that ultimately completed your look. If sporting a furry mouse on your face floats your boat, call me a block of cheese.
I tried to catch your glance, but you were too busy instagramming some latte art.
I waited.
It looked like you were finished, but no… You were checking in on foursquare.
I thought to myself, “What a noob! Doesn’t he know that he can check into foursquare directly from instagram AND attach his magnum opus in the process?”
But I couldn’t even think to correct you…
You could write all the rules of social media for me and I’d follow, subscribe, view, like, love, gasp, comment, reblog, retweet, and favorite the crap out of all your content, baby.
I tried to open my mouth to introduce myself, but your headphones were in, and I could see that you were listening to LCD Soundsystem on rdio. Such a rebel. Only conformists use Spotify.
You sped off on your bike, but only after taking several artsy pictures of it.
The California sunshine won’t hit anyone else’s bike quite the way it hit yours that morning. You had every right to capture it.
I’ll never forget you my mystery man. I may not be great at the photography of everyday things, but I can promise you that I rock a plaid shirt better than any girl I know. I’m also in the process of buying a slouchy beanie and some Warby Parker glasses. I intend on making myself the woman of your dreams, if you’ll just give me a chance.

Beautiful Brogrammer Boy near Montgomery BART - W4M - 23 (SOMA)

You were exiting the 24 Hour Fitness on Sutter and I was on my 24th hackathon hour without sleep when we ran into each other. I mean, literally ran into each other, because I’m quite short and I don’t think you even noticed me as you swung your Adidas gym bag over your shoulder while cranking up the volume to LMFAO’s “Sexy and I Know It” on your iPhone. Normally I’m like, so beyond the Top 40 but I couldn’t deny the veracity behind their words. You were sexy, and you did know it, and now I did too.

In the kerfluffle I accidentally spilled some of my Philz mint tea on your freshly pressed striped button down shirt. I’m sure you could probably borrow a new one from one of your bros. You probably all dress the same, in which case, you might have been better off just not wearing a shirt at all— but I digress.

I apologized profusely and you uttered a string of incomprehensible one-syllable words. It was all good. Rad. Chill. Dope. Boss. It was like you were speaking a foreign language and let me tell you, this girl has a thing for men with accents.

A glance at the ID badge attached to your basketball shorts indicated that you were indeed one of those mysterious “brogrammers” I’d been reading about in the Chronicle. I never thought I would encounter one of your kind in the wild— out of the confines of your natural habitat (the marina). I quickly fought down the urge to debate the best CSS practices with you over brewskis and instead shyly made eye contact with your Birkenstock sandals. Your feet kind of resembled a hobbit’s, I would have pointed this out but I feared that any LOTR references may have been lost on you.

You adjusted your backwards baseball cap to just-the-right angle and excused yourself, making your way across the street and into the nearest Starbucks. I knew in that moment my friends would never approve.

Regardless… surely I could learn to love the taste of Miller Chill, or better acquaint myself with the geography of Cow Hollow. I may be tiny and nerdy but I rock heels better than the waitstaff at AsiaSF and I think I could get behind hiking. As long as I’m allowed to stop and take artsy Instagram pics along the way. So come at me, bro. Let’s make it happen.

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