marriage simulator 2022
California as a biome is unrecognisable to me. Even that feels like a grotesque generalisation; there’s so much California, a parenthesis encircling half of the North American west coast, and San Francisco feels a world apart from LA. Nevertheless! The sunlight itself assumes a different quality, distinct from Halifax and distinct again from England. The hills turn blue in the distance, and the houses jumble together on the hillsides in what I know can’t really be chaos. The pale pastel stucco of the buildings would look twee and try-hard anywhere else. Even the trees look different, their branches contorting at angles like broken limbs. You learn to be thankful for every breeze and every patch of shade.
The one thing I did recognise, familiar to me from the very weird afternoon I spent at the end of the Santa Monica pier: the Pacific, glittering a gemlike pale green under the August sun. We drove back from Oakland over the Bay Bridge, and for parts of the crossing we felt so close to the water that I could have reached out to touch it. I remember looking at the same ocean and feeling dislocated, back in 2019; feeling out of step with the city that sprawled along the shore, complacent and roasting hot. I don’t think I have matched San Francisco’s pace yet. Crucially, I feel like I could.
I flew back from San Francisco over the course of one very long day — 4am Pacific to 1am Atlantic, with most of that time spent in Toronto. Fucking Toronto. I have many dear friends who live in Toronto or in Toronto-adjacent areas, and I do not mean to question their taste; it’s just that I am allergic to the vibes, and also the airport.
I got into my Lyft to SFO and I watched Isaac become smaller and smaller as we drove down the hill in the dark. I had to apologise to the driver for crying. At the airport I met a girl from New York who told me that she came to California every summer, but who had no idea how to navigate Departures. We went through security together, past a sniffer dog (a uniquely American experience, in my limited history of travel) and a cop who was loudly exhorting everyone in line to walk together and wait your turn. ‘She’s mean,’ said my temporary companion, and sounded genuinely wounded by it. I find it hard to pin down why this stood out to me. I think I struggle to imagine living the kind of life where these day-to-day indignities are in any way surprising. Leaving your fiancé behind is miserable; Lyft drivers will look at you sideways if you cry in their car; cops will take any opportunity to throw their weight around (especially at 4am). Surely these are just things you learn?
The first and longest flight left on time, and it all went smoothly until we reached Ontario — at which point we had to double back twice over Guelph because of ‘weather’ and ‘traffic.’ The plane did some deeply discouraging wiggles. I then ended up in limbo at Toronto Pearson for roughly six hours, with my flight delayed for a solid three and a half. I ate a very large pizza, and I felt miserable. I walked to my gate (the second of three gates that my flight would be assigned over the course of the afternoon and evening) and started crying again while still in motion; I’ve never been happier to be wearing a full face mask, which protected me from both Covid-19 and other people’s concern.
(I’m very serious: I didn’t get Covid-19. I’m also very serious: the pizza was large.)
In the end, I got back to my apartment in Halifax at 1am, after an expensive late-night taxi back from the airport. I like this apartment; at least, I will learn to like it again. It feels so much more sterile than it felt when I left. The absence of Isaac and my own relatively recent move-in are basically the same narrative for that feeling, in the end.
I tried to write this newsletter in San Francisco, and I couldn’t. It’s harder to be reflective when you’re genuinely happy, which bodes terribly for my efforts at writing poetry. If I’d felt okay sending out an update that was just a photo of me beaming at Isaac, you might have heard from me sooner.
After some trepidation, I have learned to like San Francisco. We had to scale a hill to reach Isaac’s place that (after a long morning in transit) nearly killed me, but first impressions were not ultimately lasting ones; I was charmed, and I had a good time learning my way around. By the end of my two-week stint in the city I could take multiple routes, depending on my whims and my tolerance for stairs versus hills, to meet Isaac from work at the end of a weekday afternoon. I took the Muni unsupervised! I met multiple friends from the wonderful world of online, and ate a lot of really excellent food. If you’re in Hayes Valley, Chez Maman is fantastic; if you’re in the city and looking for delivery, I cannot speak highly enough of Dumpling Home.
It kept occurring to me anew that all things being well, I’m going to live in San Francisco — in California — in a whole stack of places I never thought I’d live. Even now, after the trip, it hasn’t really sunk in. San Francisco is big, by my own horrid little standards — the same standards that make Halifax such a great fit for me, because it’s a smaller city and I’ve basically only ever lived in those. For the first few days, Isaac and I walked almost exclusively around his neighbourhood, and I started to get my bearings; then we went to the Mission to get dinner with some friends, and I had to reckon with a whole new chunk of city. And then Golden Gate Park, and then the suburbs to meet my soon-to-be-in-laws! I have barely scratched the surface. Guess I’ll just have to go again.
The best place, though, in the taxonomy of new places I am going to live: Isaac’s apartment, which is just large enough for two people (who love each other very much). It is cool and sheltered, benefiting from the shadow of the tall building just next door; the shower has truly phenomenal water pressure; the sink is capricious about ‘being turned off’ in a way I am furious to discover that I miss. It accommodates a sofa and a queen bed. I have never lived in a place with that kind of furniture capacity! It really is the little things.
I was worried, for a while, that two autistic introverts cohabiting would be a bad fit. Isaac went into work most weekdays during my visit, because we were trying to simulate the conditions under which we will be living when I actually move — so while I was getting some alone time, I was always really conscious that he wasn’t.
It was an adjustment, but not a bad one. The harder adjustment is the one we are both having to make now: letting go, at least for the moment, of the happiness of living together. We have to play by the rules or we will have a much harder time living together for real — but God, if I could have stayed. If I could have stayed.
If I could have brought him back with me, really.
Today I went to the Halifax Kite Festival. A friend messaged me last night to ask if I wanted to come along, and I was desperately tempted not to go. It was forecast to be hot, and I am still 2am-bedtime jetlagged, and I wanted nothing more than to wallow Isaacless in the dehydrating breath of my apartment’s AC. But I am in Canada, and I am here for at least a year. I want to be here! I was so desperate to get out of England; I was so trepidatious (and still am, beyond the euphoria of Isaac) about moving to the US.
So I am trying to be Guy Who Says Yes To Things. I went and I ate some of the most fucked-up poutine I’ve ever had — not bad! It’s just that they replaced the cheese curds with mozzarella and Cheez Whiz, which I’m given to understand is sacrilege — in the shade of the trees while watching kites crest across the sky. They had a little row of rainbow-coloured fish, and an orca, and multiple squid-looking friends; they had a circular kite covered in spikes that absolutely could have been a club kid outfit. I told my friend about San Francisco, and I sent a video of the kites to Isaac. Half of long distance is living the kind of life you want to tell your partner about; I feel like I relearn this every time I do it. Hopefully this is the last time.
Isaac is coming to Halifax for a week in October. That’s less than two months! We will hold out, and it will be worth it, because we know what’s possible now. The future is going to be so wonderful. How strange to say that and mean it — and yet here I am.
