Happy Valentine’s Day, San Francisco.
I know, I know. You don’t go for that kind of thing. You’ve got all the usual objections to a holiday created (or least co-opted, you’re not really sure) to drive profits. Sure, sure. I agree, I get it. But let’s just put that aside for a second.
Did I ever tell you about that time that I fell in love with you? I can’t believe that I never told you. It was your grey-fog-burn-sunny mornings that first caught my eye. I rode my bike down Folsom street watching your skyline the whole way. I don’t know if you noticed, but I winked at you.
I could go on and on but I don’t want to just feed your ego. You’ve got your faults, too. Your summers are like winters and you take yourself pretty damn seriously. Oh, and your inferiority complex with New York and LA? Get over it, you’re beautiful.
Look, I guess what I’m saying is that I like those things too. I like all of it. Don’t change. I like being with you and I’m glad we ended up together.
