After cooking ten pounds of pork for your guy, it might be a good idea to dial it back a little...and go on an actual date. Apparently, I do a lot of things backwards. My mom likes to tell people that when I started to crawl, it was backwards and upside-down, like a baby doing some kind of freaky crab walk. I'm sure that doesn't surprise anyone who knows me.
So Backwards Date Night starts at Savoy Tivoli, in North Beach, drinks with colleagues. He arrives late. I'm chatting with fellow artists, then I see him and light up, like flood lights at a night game at AT&T park. Yeah, I'm subtle like that. We finish our drinks then cab over to Hog and Rocks in the Mission. A hot 'first' date with someone you're already seeing calls for a dozen oysters. Then four tequila-mezcal-lime-pepper cocktails. Hot. And spicy. So in between slurping and sipping brine and tequila you can trade stories about growing up in disparate parts of the world and then imagine what your sofa would look like in his living room. I love that feeling of being tentative and hopeful, not exactly sure what you're feeling, but liking it; not sure where it's going, but following it. Excited to be on the threshold of something unknowable that is, so far, rather good. Also good: the burger done just right, the heirloom beet salad, the molasses-cookie-and-beer-butter-ice-cream sandwich, all those flirty looks and...him.