As the date of my departure from the Bay looms, every now and then — between the fits of contempt and anger for how this City has destroyed small pieces of my soul — there are times I get a sort of pre-nostalgia for things I will miss.

Today, as I sit across from a cute girl who vaguely reminds me of my one of my favorite exes of recent years, I get a little tug at my heart strings for the ex girlfriends I’ll miss running into on the street, avoiding at parties or talking shit about.

First and foremost is the one this girl sitting across from me reminds me of, and the one who crushed my heart in that very fine and special way. It was a classic “I’ll walk you to the BART” sort of meeting. She thought I was arrogant and dismissive. I thought she was too arty and idealistic. Together we were awesome. For a short time anyway. Then she left me, ostensibly for another man (although, to her credit, she waited a proper month before being public about it).

But I’ll miss her great smile: her imperfect teeth, full lips, wide mouth and dimples the most.

Then there’s the one I called the married girl, for I imagine she’s married about now. And I think that if I wasn’t too weirded out by her so-settled mid-thirties lifestyle, I might have been the one who married her… but it was really all too soon to tell. And some of the settled coupleness was actually pretty fun.

I’ll miss sitting at the cafe in Glen Park reading the Sunday edition of the LA Times. I’ll miss her thick glasses, but I won’t miss her weird bathroom rules. Every now and then I think of her husband and how he must have reacted to that when they first started dating.

Of course there are more but I don’t want to burry myself too deep in a sea of “what if” and besides, it’s time to move the fuck on. That, and my battery is dying…

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