xi 2: I took my son to a birthday party. He was the only first grader invited to this second grader’s birthday party. Neither I nor the birthday boy’s parents know how our sons became friends. Another mother who knows me from my son’s preschool told me she just left her husband.
xi 3: I met up with someone through a local Substack matchmaking experiment. Out of my six matches, only one person followed through on meeting. It was fine.
xi 9: Plans to meet up with a friend on his day off of work. I texted that I was in line for a table inside. He replied that he was running late from work. I was 99% sure this was a lie. He forgot we had plans. After arriving he told a story of being held up at work, and this made me sure it was a lie. I didn’t mind the lie, but the whole time felt awkward and we failed to connect.
xi 12: June asked if I was depressed. I told her to ask me again in a week.
xi 13: I received the outing letter from the State of Georgia granting me permission and responsibility for my brother Rick for four days.
xi 14: I got a text that a spot opened for a speed dating event at a wine bar in Russian Hill. I had forgotten I signed up for the waitlist. 7:05pm First round. His facial hair looks like a long wad of Spanish moss stuck to his chin. It is distracting because it seems like such a willful choice that I cannot make any sense of. 7:18 Round two. The women outnumber the men. The guys do not have to get up or move or try to find us. We come to them. The text I receive says the person I am looking for is wearing a “black shirt.” I finally ask a man in a gray shirt if he is so-and-so. He says yes. I say “Your shirt is not black.” He says he meant to type “black shorts.” He asks me when the last time I watched a documentary was. I tell him I watched the Martha Stewart documentary very recently. He suggests I watch science documentaries to learn something. 7:?? Round three. Not enough men. I do not have a date this round. Me and another woman sit idly near the bar. I compliment her outfit. 8:03 Round four. Unmemorable. 8:16 Round five. He asks where I am from. Says he has never been to Georgia. He says he loves California. He says he spent his whole life in California. He talks about how much he loves being in the red woods until time is up. 8:29 Round six. He is a thirty-five-year-old artificial intelligence researcher and tells me his parents “blocked” him from having a romantic relationship with someone he liked. He blurts, “Do you understand what I am saying?” 8:42 Final round. He has a mustache like the bad guy from Rocky & Bullwinkle. 9:00pm I drive home along California Street singing out loud to Zach Bryan’s “Deep Satin” on repeat and thinking the whole time I don’t belong here.
xi 15: Full moon. My fourth missed period this year.
xi 16: I found something I wrote when I was twenty-three years old about how I would live my life. It said I will pursue my interests without fear and without hope. It also said I refuse to commute more than 30 minutes.
xi 17: I was sitting in a cafe working on my application for my MFA. I heard someone say my name. It was a former coworker who sent me a message on Instagram three years ago asking if I wanted “sex NSA.” At the time I had been impressed with his audacity. But I’m glad I never hooked up with him. I am tired of being treated like nothing more than a substitution for porn.
xi 18: 7:47am My baby brother’s wife texted me that he is in the ICU after emergency brain surgery. 12:39pm The breathing tube was successfully removed from John’s throat. I ordered food from DoorDash to arrive at my sister-in-law’s house in rural Massachusetts because she will not get home until nine at night. 8:30pm DoorDash refuses to deliver. She has to drive and pick it up.