Have you heard of the Teddybear Picnic?

"Of course, my dear! What a delightful little lullaby," says my grandmother. "All the teddybears on a picnic in the woods, and frolicking with one another until dinnertime!" I'm constantly amazed at the things she's able to remember.
"Oh yea, I remember that one!" Karl says, humming a few lines. "No, it's not a gay song at all. Teddybears carrying picnic baskets into the woods, their mommies and daddys putting them to bed when they get tired. It's cute." Then, scratching his head, he says, "Although I can see how you think it could be a gay song."
I like how he chuckles to himself.

A hot guy and a hot car

"Sure you can. Here!" he says, tossing me the carkeys. I barely manage to catch them. "I'll race you to the top of Twin Peaks." He takes off in his other car, leaving me standing at the curb.
"I...uh..." I'm fumbling, slightly nervous, and extremely excited, as I open the driver's seat door to his Mercedes Benz CLK55. Wow this is a nice car. Probably worth about twenty times what my decade old Honda Civic is worth. The black leather interior is slick, the dasbhoard looks like a very elegant airplane cockpit.
The seat-warmers come on, I'm buckled in, and the stereo sounds like I'm in a symphony hall.
And whoa... this thing has POWER!
I ease off the pedal, amazed at how much pick-up it has. I turn off Castro Street and wind my way up Market Street, leaving the city lights and the envious gazes of several gay men behind. I am at the summit of Twin Peaks in three exhilarating minutes.
He's already there, waiting for me.
I park easily, and take my seat beside him. It's a crystal clear night, and the Bay Area is spread out at our feet - the City skyline just below, the Airport to the right, the Oakland Hills straight ahead, and the Golden Gate Bridge, brightly illuminated, to our left.
"That wasn't so bad now, was it Andrew?"
"Nah," I say nonchalantly, even though my heart is still racing. I slip one of my hands into his coat pocket to keep warm.

Antonio

There's that tall, lanky 21 year old again. Why is he looking at me? He IS cute, but he's so... young. He's probably Spanish or Meditteranean... that dark, curly hair, the dark eyes with long eyelashes, that sensuous way he glides from the bar to the table. He's so skinny... he must have a 26 size waist. And deep red lips. The beginnings of a shadow on his chin. He's a little unsure of himself yet - the way he sips his beer and clumsily wipes his chin.
He quickly looks away when I look at him. Then he glances back to see if I'm still looking at him. I am.
He hesitates, then smiles.
Cheers, kid.

Dating outside of 94114

"I wish he'd move closer... I mean... he lives all the way out in Hayes Valley."
"I once dated a guy who lived in Twin Peaks," muses Paul.
"94131? That's not so bad," says Mike.
"Unless you bike everywhere."
"You've got a point."
"What do you guys think of 94103?"
"The Mission? Fine unless you own a car. You can never stay over on street-sweeping days."
"This one trick once took me out to the Avenues..." Mike again.
"Danger! He better be hot, because you can't leave until the morning!"
"Hey guys I'm seeing someone who lives in Ashbury Heights...94117!"
"West of 94114?!? That's a change! I thought you were into east-of-Castro guys!"
"So remember that cute guy from Kevin's party last week? Well, he gave me his cell... it was a 925 area code!"
A collective shriek goes out from all four of us.
"Yikes!"
"Might as well be Egypt!"
"Yeah, long distance relationships suck."

It's beginning to feel a lot like...

Christmas lights are everywhere, the large 'Community Tree' has been put up on the corner of Castro and 18th. The shops are buzzing. The cute men I saw on speedo mountain only six months ago are still around looking just as cute, but now in woolen jackets and fashionable scarves. The musclebunnies have gone into hibernation.
The community is getting ready for the holidays. Philip just invited me to the Home for the Holidays at the Castro Theater. Fabulous Miss Keith and her fabulous posse are having a fabulous Christmas party.
And Ernest has decided to celebrate Christmas this year. "But no presents. I expect none. Under any circumstances. You know how I feel about presents... don't you dare, Andrew. I'm warning you..."