Caitlyn saw me on the street, and called out. There was a long pause while we decided whether to hug.
We kept a safe distance. But I surprised myself by saying "we can grab coffee while you're still in town."
"Yes," she said, thinking carefully. "Let's."
But of course nothing happened.
Then I sent her a note: "Not coffee. Drinks, and I'm going to write about it."
I knew the combination of reaching out and raising the stakes would be irresistible.
She's staying in the Richmond, so we went to Trad'r Sam's. As San Francisco's first tiki bar, it once pulled from across the city, but now it's a place that the neighborhood dresses down to visit. The intimate room is dominated by a large half-circle bar at the center, the game plays on two TVs, and regulars make fun of each other while drinking.
The menu categories appealed to Caitlyn — bowl drinks, rum drinks, vodka drinks, ice cream drinks — but weirdly none of the descriptions mentions the ingredients.
What is a "Wind Surfer?" (According to the menu, "You'll hit the rocks.") And Black Magic is "The Lover's Potion."
"You might as well order randomly," I said. "They should just have a Wheel of Drinks, which, actually, is a great idea. Only this is better because it's free association: My God, free association drink ordering is such a better theme than tiki!"
"I think I'll just ask the bartender for what is scotch-based and not sweet," she said.
"You can't! We have to try free association drinking together!"
She grinned. "Okay. Let's do this."
Reaching out and raising the stakes: She never could resist.
My God, what am I doing?
Caitlyn has a monkey tattoo, so she orders a Monkey's Tail ("You'll be hanging from the rafters") and we both agree I'm ordering a Diablo ("Named for the devil, so it has to be good.").
Caitlyn buys the first round, and the drinks come loaded with little umbrellas, which she puts in her hair. We try, but one won't stay in mine.
Then she tastes her orange concoction. The face she makes is the one you see in police procedurals when someone realizes they've accidentally killed their prostitute. It takes her a moment to breathe. "Refreshing," she says.
Caitlyn has been traveling around the world: She says she's begun to think of cities as people. "Maldonado is a chill friend who you can do everything with. Barcelona is a city you want to fuck against the wall. Sri Lanka, you want to have his babies. Istanbul is an intellectual friend, both passionate and distant. And San Francisco," she hesitates. "San Francisco is the face of every past lover."
I'm a sucker for a great line.
Over time, Trad'r Sam's fills up. It's loud and full of energy; all it takes is a little spark to get this place going. Caitlyn's telling me stories about traveling the world, I'm telling her stories about underground art events and Burning Man pranks. We're having a ridiculously good time. The only thing we're not doing is ordering more drinks. We're definitely feeling boozy, but not sweet and cheap.
Were we like this, back when? So easy, so electric? I don't remember it like that. I wonder if this is better than it was, or if it was always this good and I just can't recall it through a haze of anger. Do we have great chemistry? Or is she just charismatic this way, and I'm only along for the ride?
I've had people ask the same thing about me.
I ask her directly. She smiles. "I'm just this excited to see you."
Uh huh. Even if it's true, that's not the answer. Someone recently wrote a song about her. It's called "Caitlyn and Fire."
"Don't we know it," I say about the title. "Actually, that sounds like a drink description here." She cracks up. I also have a theme song: an instrumental piece a friend composed about me. We delightedly play our personal music for each other on our phones.
Near the end of the night, Caitlyn tells me she's trying to be celibate. To her it means freedom, independence, and space for her soul. Years ago she vowed to change everything in her life, and she has.
Hearing this, I decide not to reach out and raise the stakes.
It might have worked (who knows?) but it's what I never should have done, years ago. A point that we somehow never once discussed.
Caitlyn is now gone far away. Trad'r Sam's will always be here, getting more comfortable as time wears it down.
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