Too Many BFMs

There was a moment in San Francisco where I lost it. Not crazy or crying—nothing that dramatic—but I just felt myself fall. Chloe, Lucy and I were in a bar in the Market District—a smoky swanky place named Amber filled with all types of San Francisco deviants.

It was fun, a couple of mixed drinks, a pack of cigarettes, and a lot of standing. I felt a little to L.A. with my velvet coat and Kutcher type hat but I was enjoy the moment. As we kept scanning the room for seats I watched this random group of friends. They were just like my friends in LA—the pretty one, the trendy one, the bitchy, the funny one and the gay one. Just like us.

Except it was different—the gay one was chatting up another guy sitting with them. I realized that they were boyfriends—they were making out and holding hands as I watched. There shouldn’t be anything special about this except it was a straight bar—with their straight friends. It gave me a total BFM.

Boy Friend Moment. That sudden urge where all you want is someone to kiss, to cuddle with, to be sloppy drunk and romantic. I don’t ever have those moments. I think of love like I do religion; it’s for other people but not really for me to believe in. I don’t want to light candles or say little prayers for something that may not really be out there but maybe I’ll change my mind. It will take an act of faith.

Which is why it is so weird for me to be having these thoughts, heart in my throat, watching other with jealousy. I don’t like how lonely couples make me feel, how sad I get when I see other people happy. Normally I just smile at the images and chalk it up to fate or foolishness. I guess I learned that from watching my family’s multiple marriages, to just laugh and roll my eyes at love.

But now I’m feeling the pangs, the stirrings and having too many BFMs.