Small Town, Big Town
Sometimes I feel almost claustrophobic in this town. Someone introduces you to their friend, and you find out their wife was the head of a geek mailing list you were on, and you remember issues she had, and you relate it back to this guy you just met and you realize you know a way lot more than you want to. You run into 10 friends and acquaintances one Saturday in the Castro in one block.
Then, like last night, on the F Market from Fisherman’s Wharf to Ferry Building, you’re with the hospitality workers commuting home and you realize there are no connections, none you can find at least, and the conversations you overhear are so different than any your friends would have:
“Baby, I love you so much. I want to show you every day how much I love you. Did you hear what I said? I can’t wait to get home. You’ll be waiting for me.” This said by woman screaming into her cell phone in a packed car. There were more details- about their finances, love life, death of friends, all at 10 decibels.
and then you get the conversations about “her baby’s daddy is now so-and-sos baby daddy too. and I said, if that was my baby’s daddy, I wouldn’t let him run around like that…” I don’t think I’ve ever heard the term “baby’s daddy” used so many times in one phone conversation on a bus. mind you she was sitting in the back and I was up front and I could still hear everything she said clearly..
Not to mention the whole west coast polyamory thing.
it’s really sort of one word by the way, “baby-daddy”. Even if there are multiple babies.