Kevin Brennan Writes About What It's Like
Hard to believe I met my wife on this street corner 25 years ago today. Cole and Carl, San Francisco.
Right about where that sewer lid is, we shook hands and said nice to meet you — after having waited for each other on the wrong corners for half an hour. I’d told her on the phone what I thought was the right one, and she interpreted that to be the other one, and it was only when I noticed this furious girl stamping back and forth on this corner that I realized we had a merry mixup on our hands. Finally I went over and introduced myself.
We’d gotten together through what today we call Match.com, but back then was known as a “personal ad.” I was new in town and had no connections, so I thought it would be the best way to find someone to go out with. Never imagined I’d meet my soulmate that way.
And the crazy thing is, Sue never saw my ad. Some gay friend of hers told her about it and said, “This one’s perfect for you.”
Which seems odd now. I had mentioned something about having sand in my shoes and rocks in my head, and promising my gf-to-be that “flying by the seat of our pants is assured.” I would never have answered my own ad …
But in any case, she approached one man on that corner and asked, “Kevin?” And he said, “God, no!” So she was fit to be tied by the time I ambled up, smiling with my hand out. “I need a drink,” she said, and I said the equivalent of “Giddy-up, mofo.”
I was enamored of her the moment I saw her smile. And heard her laugh. Plus she had great legs.
We spent two hours in a bar on the opposite corner — Kezar, which is still there — talking as comfortably as if we’d known each other for years, finding our overlaps, hinting at our secrets, flirting, laughing. And as we parted on the corner afterward, we made a date for the following Sunday, when we decided to see Singin’ in the Rain at the Castro Theater. I heard Sue running exuberantly toward her car as I walked up Cole Street toward my place on Ashbury.
From the age of fourteen, when I first visited my dad there, I always thought San Francisco held something special for me. It took me twenty years to get there, but what was waiting for me was my one true.
For Susie, 4/15/92.