I live in downtown Berkeley next door to a men’s shelter. Every morning after breakfast some of the men come outside, stand around on the sidewalk, and talk. I usually pass them twice, once on my way to or from the gym and again on my way to work. One of the men is named Kieran.

I work four blocks from my apartment and once my boss compared my neighborhood after dark to the Tenderloin is San Francisco. Yes, there are a lot of encampments but it’s not the Loin. I am afraid to walk by myself alone at night in the Tenderloin. Actually, I’m terrified. I’ve never been afraid in Berkeley.

I feel like the homeless population has a lot better things to do than harm me. Also, there are not many mentally ill homeless people in Berkeley that I’ve encountered. The worst thing anyone has ever yelled at me on the street is, “Anorexic bitch!” I kind of liked it.

Kieran talks to all the women who pass by him. Sometimes he walks beside or behind me. Sometimes his buddies tell him to shut up and sometimes they join in. He doesn’t whisper as I pass. He recites the same script with vigor every day.

Kieran: Keep smiling sweetheart. You are very pretty. I like what you have on. I’m telling you that if he doesn’t marry you he’s a fool and it’s a damn shame.

Sometimes Kieran talks about his twin sister Keira. Sometimes he asks me my name or if I forgot something (when I pass by him more than once). I once heard him ask about the daughter of a woman who works in a government building. It was the girl’s birthday. Kieran is predictable but today he changed the script.

Kieran’s script change freaked me out a little bit. He said, “I probably won’t kidnap you but I’d like it if you’d spend some time with me.” I don’t feel particularly comfortable being sized up multiple times a day by Kieran. Mentioning kidnapping as I was turning the lock on my apartment building wasn’t cool. I guess I should move to Walnut Creek. No fucking way! He did say that he wasn’t going to do it. Probably.


Sexting Rookie


I’ve had phone sex before but never sexted. The phone sex was fun. It devolved into moaning and we both got off. I was skeptical about having text sex because there would be no sexy sounds, I’d be using one good hand to type, and I’d be constantly worrying if my writing was hot enough.

I turned to some friends for advice.

Me: What’s your definition of sexting? Pictures? Sexy typing?

Friend #1: Both!

Friend #2: I think it starts with the typing and leads up to pictures, so yeah, sexy texting.

Friend #3: BF says that sexting by definition is a text. I agree. Dick pics are dick pics.

Me: How do you take pics, type, and get off at the same time?

Friend #1: I guess it doesn’t matter what you call it as long as it’s fun. I’ve usually waited to get off til after the texting/photos. Like when the convo is done. Otherwise it’s too stressful.

Friend #2: I dunno? FaceTime would be easier.

Friend #3: Sexting has always seemed weird to me TBH.

I sexted for the first time last night. I sexted with a real writer so it was pretty hot! I went with Friend #1’s approach and masturbated afterward. He apparently got off during, but without the sounds I was skeptical at first. Then I just decided to believe him and feel proud of myself.

Here are some highlights. I’ll leave off his convo contributions since I don’t have his permission. I will say that he is an extremely gifted writer. Also, I left out the ass stuff because TMI right? Hahaha.

Me: I’m your dirty little cum slut, waiting to taste you.

Me: Ohh Tessa, I mean Yes! Fuck you autocorrect!

Me: If I were there, I’d want you to shove my panties into my mouth to shut me up.

Me: There are some hobos fighting outside my apartment.

Me: Push me down and fuck me harder than you’ve ever fucked anyone. Make me cum noisy.

Me: I wanted to fuck you at breakfast.

If your sexual partner is out of town I say, go for it! Sext, FaceTime fuck, give good phone. It’s fun and a good way to get to know someone and what they like. According to Bustle, “It gets your creative juices (and other juices) flowing.” I want to rip his clothes off the next time I see him. Who doesn’t want that?

Sexting Rookie

Goofy Grin Part II

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The timing was off with That Guy but still I hoped. Then, I met someone great on Bumble. I felt so lucky to find someone else to tie up my butterflies. The goofy grin showed up again. My friends who made valiant effort to keep up with my dating life switched to team Artist Dude. He was way better than That Guy because he was responsive and seemed to have no serious obstacles to prevent him from relating. Importantly, Artist Dude’s art is actually great. It’s the worst when someone is a creative type but what he or she creates looks like shit.

Artist Dude very quickly became Texting Buddy. I’d hear something from him every couple of days but he stopped asking me out. In this type of situation, it’s best to let go. Do not do what I did. I initiated meeting and asked him what was up. I’m not sure why it still surprises me to hear a 40 something man in San Francisco tell me he’s really busy, needs alone time, and can’t have a traditional relationship. Wouldn’t I just like to have occasional meaningless sex? No, I wouldn’t but thanks for the 7th offer like that I have received since starting to date in January.

My goofy grin is stupid. It appears for the wrong guys. I’m done looking for love on an app. Wah! Then, last week I was up at 5 am and decided to play a little Bumble. Swipe, swipe blammo! We had breakfast. We had dinner. We had another dinner. My friends are now on team Sexy Sportswriter (he even gets the best nickname). They are almost ready to print up t-shirts because he’s nice to me and likes my quirky. Goofy grin is not stupid; it’s smart and makes my dimple appear. Possibility, you can’t beat that.

Goofy Grin Part II

La Note Is No Bon Jovi

La Note
Years ago my friend and I arrived at MOCA in downtown Los Angles for an art party. The line went down Grand, past Walt Disney Concert Hall and stretched around the block to First Street. My friend exclaimed, “This art party is no Bon Jovi!” Apparently, a Bon Jovi concert was the only event she’d consider waiting in line for longer than an hour.

I rarely go to La Note in downtown Berkeley. Weekend brunch waits are even more enormous than their pancakes. You can arrive at 8 am and still wait. Long lines for breakfast in the Bay Area are why I’ve patronized Doyle Street Café in Emeryville for years. Unfortunately, the secret got out and the wait is now long even for their mediocre food.

The food at La Note is not mediocre. It’s good, almost sometimes maybe great. I judge a breakfast place on the eggs. For the love of god, please don’t overcook eggs. I always undercook eggs. This grosses some people out but those people are wrong. My scrambled eggs at La Note this morning were perfect. I also ate bacon, sourdough toast, and some of my date’s raspberry oatmeal pancakes but the eggs were the best part.

The ambience at La Note is just OK. I’ve heard the back patio is super nice. My favorite breakfast places look like dumps in Concord or they’re in strip malls. Some are dumps in Concord strip malls. La Note looks nice ish. There are probably some chicken knick-knacks around.

Finally, my date’s grapefruit had a hair in it. The hair was like really in there. As he pointed out, “There are scarier things we can’t see in our food.” We think our waitress might have said, “Good luck to you guys” referencing the fact that we were on a date. That was odd but she backed me up on the fact that a Diet Coke is a superior beverage choice to coffee first thing in the morning so I loved her for that. Go to La Note on a weekday.

The salad Nicoise is also good

La Note Is No Bon Jovi