Since moving into my apartment in San Francisco, I’ve been spending an absurd amount of time and energy getting furnishings. While I had some basics – bed, nightstand, and closet with a bit of shelving – I needed a few more items to really feel moved in. I initially scrounged through Craigslist hoping to find what I needed for cheap, but after dealing with flakes, no-answers, and sorry-already-takens for a week, I finally caved and decided to go to IKEA.
What I thought would be a tedious but necessary trip to the megastore took a very interesting turn, however, when I mentioned it to T over chat the night before. He said that he was thinking of going as well to look at shoe racks. Now, after my last visit a couple days prior, we had talked about the possibility of my being his “pet” for an afternoon. It looked like meeting at Ikea would provide such an opportunity.
I immediately received a set of rules of behavior for the outing. Once I accepted them, we made plans to meet the next day, Sunday. I went to bed that night filled with anticipation and not a little anxiety. And maybe a little bit turned on.
I left for the store close to noon, after waiting the morning for yet another no-response Craigslister. I met up with T at the entrance lobby to Ikea, and when I saw him the butterflies in my stomach all started flapping frantically to get out. But when he asked me if I was ready, I nodded.
“Then kneel, please.”
I looked up at him, the shock plainly lit on my face. He waited expectantly as I turned my head from side to side, eyed the people walking around us, then quickly knelt on the floor of the lobby, my ears burning. I saw his hand go into his pocket, at eye level with my head, and take out a thin, smooth silver collar. I felt it circle my neck, and with a small click T secured it with a lock.
He helped me back up to my feet, and we turned and walked into the main hall.
Here were my rules for the day:
1. Pet will always use the word Sir when speaking to me.
2. Pet will always obey all commands given.
3. Pet will conduct herself in the proud manner appropriate to her position as my pet.
4. Pet will keep hands behind her back, crossed at the wrists, when idle. While seated crossed at the wrists on the lap is acceptable.
5. Pet will not use furniture, eat, or operate vehicle doors without permission.
6. Pet will accept punishment for transgressions of the rules.
With that in mind, I kept my hands behind my back while we walked through the store except to check out a lamp or dresser. We browsed through each area, noting the many pervertables in the kitchen section, and in the offices and desks area, T sat down at an office set-up and had me kneel in front of him again. My reservations about what other people in the store might see were quickly washing away by now; I slid easily to my knees. We imagined this taking place in a more domestic setting, and I laughed that if it were really in his home office, he would get no work done.
We moved on to bedrooms and closets, looking over small dressers for me and shoe racks for him. T found some racks in one of their modeled bedrooms, which even had a walk-in closet. T entered one of these closets and I followed. There were dressers and shoe racks and things inside, but all I really remember is suddenly feeling his fingers around my nipple, pinching deep through two layers of cloth. He continued to check out the inside of the closet, and I concentrated on not making any noise.
We walked down aisles of wardrobes, and upon opening one, T said,
“This would be perfect: to have you tied on your knees in here, with a rope around your neck tied to that bar to keep you upright, and when it’s bedtime I just close the door…It would give me something pretty to look at in the morning…”
With that image at the forefront of my mind, we continued down the aisles. Eventually we reached the end of the top floor and came out to the food court area. Sneaky Ikea, putting a restaurant at the end of their maze of furniture, knowing we’d come out hungry. So we got some food and found an empty table. I got drinks and napkins before T allowed me to sit and eat.
Then we headed downstairs to collect our actual merchandise. After hunting down each item, paying, and getting everything to our cars, we made a side trip to a nearby Home Depot so I could get bulbs for my new floor lamp, as well as rebar for the upcoming Burning Man. After that, T asked if I wanted to continue with him for the afternoon, to which I promptly responded, “Yes!”
So we dropped my car off at his place, and he drove me to a nearby mall. We walked through several shoe stores and I tried on more heels than I’ve ever put on before. For each pair, I walked down the aisle and back, and sometimes stopped to see what the shoes looked like in the mirror. I was surprised to find myself enjoying this – me, the girl who owns 6 pairs of shoes, among them flip flops, sneakers, and hiking boots.
Much as I had to actually experience spanking, caning, bondage, and a plethora of other kinks and fetishes to really get their appeal, my afternoon spent trying on shoes to model for T gave me a much better appreciation for shoes and the people who love them (and I mean really love them). At one store, T told me to pick any two shoes to try on, and one of the pairs I chose felt incredible. It was a kind of shiny black strappy heel, with thick straps tapering as they ran down the foot. It’s hard to describe exactly, but every time I moved a foot, the straps clung, gripped, or shifted in the most delicious way.
In any case, we didn’t exclusively look at shoes, but they were definitely the focus. And it was during these last few hours that I made two infractions to the rules. While walking back to T in a pair of heels, I forgot to keep my hands crossed behind my back. And then T realized that I had not used “Sir” at all throughout the day except when repeating the rules back to him in Ikea at the beginning.
I had been aware of the latter, since I have a lot of difficulty calling someone “Sir” to begin with. It takes getting used to, I suppose, and I am very much out of practice. But it was still an infraction, and I was left to wonder what the punishment would be.
After a quick food court dinner we left the mall to head back to T’s place… But not before T had me hand him my underwear in the parking lot, much to my embarrassment. Even more embarrassing was the obvious evidence of just how much I enjoyed the, ah, shopping experience.
Back at the house, I spent the first half hour or so on a pillow on the ground, nestled against his legs as we watched TV. We watched Night Shift, and soon after it started I was invited to sit on the couch and massage his feet. I love giving massages, too, though the only feet I’ve really ever massaged are my own. So it was fun to get deep into the arches and soles of his feet, and I elicited the most delightful groans.
I love those kinds of sounds.
Much of that night passed in a blur. I remember more nipple torture, orgasms, and more foot massaging. I ended up half-asleep against T’s legs, Law and Order playing, and my ankles tied. T announced after the show ended that it was bedtime, and as I was immobilized with rope and almost asleep, he carried me upstairs to the cage. I crawled in, he locked the door, and I promptly fell asleep.
The clang of the lock coming off and the door opening was my alarm clock for the morning. I peered drowsily from the mound of blanket around my face to see T at the door, taking my legs and gently unfolding them and massaging them. My muscles protested as I straightened from my half-fetal position, making me groan. As I crawled halfway out of the cage, I heard T say,
“I want you to take your clothes off.”
Still only half-awake, I struggled to take off my clothes, my ankles still bound in the rope from the night before. T helped me to my feet, and in the space of a few minutes I was gagged, handcuffed, and in black heels. Oh, yes, and a red clip on each nipple. Then he turned me around and bent me over the top of the cage to accept my punishment for the previous day’s infractions: 5 strokes with a cane.
I will not lie – if it had been more, I might have started crying. By number three I could feel my eyes tearing up, though I’m not sure if it was the pain or the shock that caused that. I felt like it didn’t so much hurt, but I can’t place why the sensation was almost enough to make me cry. (And I admit: I almost wanted more)
After the fifth stroke I just stayed in place, breathing through the impact. Then I felt fingers slide between my legs.
“Oh, someone is wet. Did you enjoy that?”
But I couldn’t answer because those fingers had start to move and slide and, well, I was gagged anyway.
I don’t remember how many times I climaxed, but once I was able to stand steadily on my legs again, T fed an end of rope through the eyebolt on the front of my gag and led me to his bathroom, to his full length mirror. I stared at the image in front of me; leather covering almost the whole front of my face, nipples painfully taut and aching in the clips, legs precarious atop shiny black heels, hands still shackled behind me.
I felt beautiful.
It’s been awhile since I’ve been able to really take any potential HNT photos, given the roadtrip, then apartment searching and furniture buying. I thought about using a cropped photo from the roadtrip collection, but I think taking these photos at my new home is a nice way to commemorate my moving in to the great city of San Francisco!
I’ve had this rather nice purple suit jacket that I picked up at a thrift store but never had an opportunity to wear. I suppose now that I’m job searching the chances of my having to wear clothes like this will increase, but for now I’m content just having it around for occasions like this.
Everyone’s got their self-image issues. As I meet and get to know more and more people, I’m convinced this is true. Regardless of how one appears to others, or the number of times someone is told they’re attractive, there’s a nagging doubt present somewhere in there.
Am I wrong? Are there those who are self-confident from the core outward? I’d love to learn their secret.
Growing up as a scruffy, dark-skinned Chinese girl in an almost all-white town did not help my self-image. I have differently shaped eyes, weirdly shaped face, big nose, thick hair, and thick lips. Speaking of the last, I had no idea thick lips were a desired trait at all, having been surrounded by blonde, blue-eyed, thin-lipped kids my whole life. My peers, my town, and Western media defined my sense of aesthetic, and it took quite a while to tear myself away from that lens.
In fact, for most of my childhood I refused to look at myself in the bathroom mirror and had no mirror in my bedroom. I made myself a tomboy to avoid competing with other girls and refused to wear dresses, makeup, or jewelry until I got to college. Partially I thought it would be too vain of me, but I realize now that it was an arrogant attempt to dismiss those things as unnecessary. And perhaps a nugget of fear that even makeup and jewelry could not make me look (or feel) attractive.
I remember hating the frequency with which my mother would ask if anyone had complimented my appearance or clothes, as it only heightened my self-consciousness. And the term most often used to describe me is “cute.” I hated that word when I was younger, though I’ve now more or less accepted it as inevitable. I’m “cute.”
I guess I am only divulging all of this because of recent events in the past couple months. I’ve realized that people wanting to talk to or play with me may not be just because they’ll chase after anything with a heartbeat. Thinking that would be a great insult and disservice to these wonderful people that I’ve crossed paths with, and if I can’t trust my own judgment, at least I can try to put my trust in theirs.
I’ve been thinking a lot about erogenous zones lately. Perhaps it is something to do with the attention some of those areas of my body have been receiving of late. It amazes me how immediately a touch can leave me a helpless puddle, whereas another makes me want to sink my teeth into flesh.
It’s been good to take a break from writing here, though a lot has been going on as well. I’ve secured myself amazingly affordable housing in the great city of San Francisco, and have devoted the rest of my energy and time between finding a job and preparing for Burning Man. I would never have recognized the direction my life is going a year ago, but I find myself more comfortable, more stable, and – dare I say? – happier than I was a year ago as well. I take these to be good signs that I am heading more towards a self I am proud to embody.
I also find that I am traveling further and further away from the kind of intimate relationships I have been used to and discovering the shadowy realm of multiple play partners. It has been a mind opening journey, certainly, but I’m not sure where it will land me in the end.
Experiences have abounded though: my first fireplay and cupping scene, a more disciplinary kind of play involving very high heels and a leash, rough manhandling and rope at a public nightclub, sleeping in a cage while shackled…
Am I starting to sound like a sexual deviant yet?
I find these scenes flashing through my head at random times, all involving different guys I still know so little about. It feels a little dangerous, or at least not entirely safe. Nonetheless, my mind starts naturally to wander through these memories: of tipsily standing on way-too-high heels, leash tied above my head to a metal bar – a leash I am straining and practically strangling myself on because I am coming too hard.
Or of being pushed into an alcove on a public street after going to a kinky party and being pressed against the wall from behind, hands roughly pushing and groping and dirty whispers passed to my ear.
Or, from a little while back, of having my head encased in plastic and electric tape, feeling my breath becoming shallower and more frequent as the air is slowly used up, almost hyperventilating before a hole is ripped open near my mouth. And then to be fucked through that hole, so that I could only breathe when he withdrew anyway. And then at the end, to have my face untaped, finally be able to open my eyes, only to see the thin edge of a knife almost touching my eyeball.
Huh. Well, I initially started writing to talk about some of the lovely sensitivities of certain parts of my body, but I seem to have wandered off that track. It’ll have to be a post for another day.
Writing this from L.A., I have never been more excited to be in one place for more than one or two days. I am here until tomorrow, when I will be dropping Guy 1 off at LAX and heading back to San Francisco to start looking for housing and work. I’m really hoping I can get settled there, despite the unemployment rate and the high costs of living in the city.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Rewind back to Montana. Having developed whatever stomach bug I got from the cheap ramen, I let myself be convinced by our host’s mom to stay an extra day to ensure that I could hold solid foods down. After a night of just drinking Pedialyte and Gatorade, this wonderful mother helped nurse me back to health, all while telling me about her incredible life.
I won’t go into many details, but suffice to say she has survived many life obstacles, things I cannot imagine having to endure. We bonded over family stories and life issues like depression and food-dependent mood swings. Meanwhile, the Guys went off on a 9-mile hike to enjoy some outdoor time. I was thankful that they weren’t adverse to staying an extra day, though I felt bad about the setback.
Anyway, I was very glad for the company of such a strong woman, and we have since kept in touch through e-mail. I’ve also kept in touch with the Idaho family who rescued us from our incapacitated car.
The next day (July 22nd, if I’m keeping track of all of this correctly) we headed out to Seattle, after a brief period of panic trying to find a place to stay in the city. Ended up getting in contact with a friend of a friend, and once again we met with an incredibly friendly and generous host, who also owns a board game store and invited us to Game night which just happened to be that night. We learned to play Monty Python Fluxx and Settlers of Catan, and Guy 1 liked the latter so much that he ended up buying the game later in Portland.
In the morning we visited the Sculpture Gardens, Pike Place Market, as well as the Center for Sex-Positive Culture aka the Wetspot. The guys went with me to the Wetspot after I’d explained what it was about and ensuring that I could go alone and drop them off somewhere downtown. But they wanted to come with, and with slight reservation we headed off to the Wetspot after grabbing some groceries at the market. Well, we went in and it was obvious the place was closed, as some construction was underway. But I ran into Max, a contact Dov had hooked me up with for possibly attending a kink party later that evening, and managed to get an invite to said party. Exciting!
And the construction going on inside the Wetspot turned out to be in preparation for the party, and we saw a bunch of cages and hardpoints right at the entrance. Later while we were making dinner, I found out Guy 2 didn’t even see the dungeon equipment and only realized what the stuff was when Guy 1 mentioned it.
So we make dinner from the market purchases that morning and rest up in anticipation for the evening. All evening the guys are trying to decide whether to go to the party with me, since they got guest invites as well, or to cruise around for live bands at bars and clubs to check the night scene out. They finally decided to go check out the bands, and they dropped me off at the Wetspot a little before 10pm. I got a quick tour of the play space, which I really enjoyed, and then was left to explore on my own. I found a chair in a corner and quickly headed there. Of course. A few guys came up to chat, but mostly I just watched a few scenes from afar.
After awhile I started to engage with more people, and by the end I was invited to help with a birthday spanking and got to be suspended by Max. I thoroughly enjoyed both, especially the reaction of the guy I spanked. Oh yes, I definitely think I could do more of that. Not to say that the suspension wasn’t absolutely wonderful. It felt amazing to be back in rope again. And…well, there was some really great power dynamic going on, and once I came down the scene continued with my being forced onto my stomach with his knee in my back. Then there was a Top switchover and another guy took over, bringing pressure points and tickling into play.
Midway through this scene, one of the Wetspot volunteers came over to let me know my friends were here to pick me up. Damn! Clash, the top that I ended the scene with, untied me and helped bring me down. We hugged, exchanged Fetlife names, and I left with the guys, high and giddy on endorphins.
In the morning we packed up to head out to Olympic National Park. We camped the first night there at a car campgrounds, which ended up rather complicated as we paid for our camping spot, then left to visit Hurricane Ridge with amazing views of the snow-covered mountain range, but returned to find another camper had set up camp at our spot and then left. We looked around for other sites but couldn’t find any, so we decided to at least cook dinner at what we considered our site. Afterwards we had no option but to wait for the other campers to return to the site and try to work something out.
It was well after dark by the time they did, and the guy who came out of his car was not happy. We failed to compromise and instead found a small clearing somewhat in the woods to set out our sleeping bags. The next day we left early, spent some time in the Hoh Rainforest, and camped out on the beach, which was completely surreal. We were enshrouded by mist and fog the entire day and night, and couldn’t even see the edge of the forest that ran right up to the coast. There were giant, white-bleached piles of driftwood along the edge of the forest, plenty for making a nice fire.
Then came Portland. We stopped there to drop Guy 2 off, his final destination for the roadtrip. We stayed a couple nights at his new apartment and got to know his housemates, going to a bar the first night (where I proceeded to own both guys in billiards and pinball. Yeah, I’m that cool…). One of the housemates had the day off on Monday, so he took us around the city a bit, where we visited the Rose Gardens and Powell’s gigantic bookstore (where I bought Volume 1 of Leage of Extraordinary Gentlemen and Bradbury’s The Illustrated Man). That was pretty cool, they even have an entire bookshelf devoted to yaoi manga.
Otherwise though, it was miserably hot and humid the couple of days we were in Portland. Everyone kept assuring us that this was an exception to what is usually dry heat and rain in the winter, but I was extremely happy when we headed south to Redwood National Park.
So off we went, now just Guy 1 and me, and half as much stuff since all of Guy 2’s luggage was unloaded in Portland. What luxury! We have an entire back seat free! So we camp overnight in Redwood, which is an awesome place that I’d happily revisit to go through the park more thoroughly. As it was we walked through one old growth grove, and drove through some more. We got to see a herd of elk, including numerous bucks and a baby. But things were a bit rushed, and I think we both just wanted to get to San Francisco. We got into the city fairly late, and went to meet up with one of his close friends from home who’d just moved to the Mission District.
At this point I was trying to get in contact with another friend of a friend, someone I’d been e-mailing about possibly staying with him while in San Francisco. As it turned out he lived an hour south of the city, in San Jose. I decided to take Guy 1’s friend’s offer to stay with them the night and head to San Jose the next evening. Guy 1 played Settlers of Catan with his friends while I perused their bookshelf and read through Volume 2 of League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (having finished V.1 at Redwoods).
During the day on the 30th, we explored the city a bit, heading into Chinatown to get dim sum. We also got to try out tea tasting which was very yummy. After lunch Guy 1 and I split off, and I headed down Mission Street to check out the Citadel and the Armory. I walked past both but didn’t enter either. The Citadel was closed, and, well, I couldn’t get myself to walk into the Armory. I walked around a lot and also got pretty tangled up with the bus system. But finally I made my way to Folsom street and walked it from 20th to 7th street. Lots of gay clubs and leather stores! Big surprise there. I didn’t go inside any that day, however.
In the afternoon I headed out to San Jose and got to experience the horror and insanity that is California highway traffic. It was an infuriatingly long stop-and-go, just completely crammed. I ended up extremely late to meet with my San Jose host, T. And I hate being late. But things worked out, and after a quick dinner T took me to a local munch to meet some kinky people. It was actually my first munch, and it was held at a lesbian bar during lady’s night! It was much fun, and I got to meet a bunch of great folks.
Towards the end of the night I even got my wrists tied up. Then, on the drive home, I was handcuffed for part of the drive.
The night didn’t end there, either. When we got back to his place, T proceeded to show me his entire handcuff collection, which was quite extensive. He put 3 sets of cuffs on me: a huge thick collar cuff, heavy thick hand shackles, and bike locks around my ankles. Rope quickly followed, and I found myself tied first on my back over his ottoman, then on my stomach in a severe hogtie. I couldn’t maintain that position very long so he loosened the ropes after that.
By the end of it I was exhausted and promptly fell asleep in the guest room.
I headed back into the city the next morning to explore more of Folsom, having been given a list of stores I should visit. So I browsed through some of the leather stores, checking out their whips and asking about evil sticks. Alas, none stocked the latter. (Ava thinks I’m crazy for even thinking about looking for them, heehee. Yeah, it’s pretty messed up, I admit.)
By afternoon I was done window shopping, so I settled into a café and caught up a bit on internet stuff. Caught up later with Guy 1, and we headed to the beach for a bit before he headed over to his friend’s for the night and I left again for San Jose. Traffic was again fairly miserable, though I got a little more of a head start this time. Tonight there was a party at Edges, a playspace in San Jose, so after a delicious dinner of clam and mussel pasta, we headed over to play!
Edges is a fantastic playspace, with themed rooms: an exam room for medical play, a schoolroom for teacher/student stuff, a main dungeon area, and several other areas. It also has a social area that’s completely separate from the playspaces, making for a nice room to talk without music or darker lighting.
I got tied up within minutes of getting a tour of the place, with my legs free so I could still walk around. I watched T play with someone else for awhile before wandering a bit on my own and striking up conversation with the few other people around. I also ended up in metal wristcuffs by one of the DMs. But a little while later, one of the guys I’d met at the munch, who’d offered to give me my first fireplay experience, reminded me the offer was still open. I took him up after a little resistance (not wanting to take off my clothes), and the rope and cuffs were taken off so that I could go with him. We went into one of the more private rooms, I took my dress off, and he laid out his fire equipment.
It was an intense experience. It hurt, but after awhile it also felt good. My body tensed each time the fire was applied anywhere on my back or stomach, but it was easier to take on my legs. Then there was fire cupping, which was fairly awesome. I still have the round marks left from the glass cups. It’s hard to really describe the scene, but there was cuddling afterwards and decompressing, after which I just felt drained. After helping clean up and wandering for a little while longer, I crashed on a couch in the social lounge until T came to wake me up and leave.
When we got back, I started heading upstairs to the guest room. T was right behind me, and as I started into the room he gently but firmly redirected me to his office, where he had a large, metal cage. There was a comforter laid out on the bottom.
I crawled inside, and he fed a pillow and blanket through the bars for me. Then he locked the cage, turned off the light, and went to his bedroom. And so I slept that night in a cage, for the very first time.
I slept well, in case you were wondering. In the morning I was let out but immediately handcuffed, and that is how I took my morning shower.
I also ate breakfast and packed up my things in the hinged cuffs, until finally it was time to leave. There was a little snag with one cuff getting stuck, but T got it unlocked and after a hug I left for the city again. This time I had offered to help with Wicked Grounds, the new kink cafe and boutique opening up sometime soon. Unfortunately California decided that Saturday morning was a good time to close off an entire length of highway and force 4 lanes of traffic into two exit lanes, all completely abruptly, right before said exit. Needless to say, I was pissed.
After I calmed down at a café for a bit, I headed off to Wicked Grounds. There I met Rose and Kitty and started moving boxes and cleaning things up. At one point, Kitty asked how I felt about humiliation play. Busy texting on my phone, I replied rather distractedly that I was fine with humiliation.
“Great!” he said. “Here’s a scraper, can you please scrape the gum off the bottom of the bar?”
And so I did.
I continued to help out where I could for the rest of the morning. Kitty and I got a quick lunch at Subway, and later in the afternoon I drove Rose to pick off her kitties, who’d had to be cleaned because they’d gotten fleas. We took them back to her apartment, and there we chatted and relaxed for the rest of the afternoon until it was time for me to pick up Guy 1 and head off to Santa Barbara.
Needless to say, I was feeling pretty good about San Francisco, though still unsure whether I can afford to live there. Guy 1 and I headed off to Santa Barbara to try and find a beach with cliffs and caves that his brother had strongly recommend we visit based on his own roadtrip. It was already very late when we got to the area, and trying to find the right beach was difficult. We even got pulled over for driving erratically on a local road, though the cops let us go, even pointing us in the direction of the beach.
Finally, some godforsaken hour past midnight, we hiked into a beach and decided to just camp somewhere. We set up a fire, and when it was apparent the campstove wasn’t working, we got water boiling over the fire for pasta.
The meal ended up being delicious, probably all the more so for being tired and cranky. We’d also bought some wine, and broke that out to celebrate. Once we were full and warm, Guy 1 started asking about bondage. I perked up at that, and it soon became apparent he wanted to know more. I’d left my rope in the car, but we made do with the string we’d brought for tying up the sleeping bag and pad. I showed him some simple ties, and we took turns tying each other up.
By this point I had my suspicions about his intentions. These were verified when we walked down to the water and he stripped and dove in. We ran back to the fire to warm up, and he egged me to do the same. I finally agreed, but only if I could punch him both before and after. I got to punch him, and then we ran down, I stripped, and we got into the water. It actually was quite pleasant, and then we ran back to the fire to warm up. So here we are, both naked and wet, sitting by a campfire on the beach.
What could possibly have happened next?
It started with him massaging me. That was pleasant, and I offered to return the favor. Then he massaged me some more, but leaned closer, so that I could feel his back and really obvious erection.
This made me giddy. I don’t know if it was just the strangeness of it all, since I’d been so tired and cranky when we’d first hiked to the beach, or if it was the wine, or if it was just because it’d been so long since I’d been naked with a guy. But in any case, I felt incredibly emboldened. I suggested we lay out our sleeping bags, and we started kissing and fondling on top of them.
I reached for his cock, and soon after his fingers slipped inside me. My God, but that felt so good after a month’s long abstinence. While he wasn’t quite as rough as I liked, it felt wonderful. We jerked each other off, cuddled a bit, and fell asleep soon after.
So I suppose there isn’t too much left to write about. We packed up and after a brief visit to another friend in Santa Barbara, left for LA, where we have since stayed since Guy 1’s flight leaves in less than 12 hours from LAX. We spent a bit of time at Santa Monica beach which is beautiful, and have eaten out for every meal, which has been tough on our wallets.
I don’t know what it’ll be like, having to make the drive back up to San Francisco alone. The car will feel mighty empty without any other passengers and with much less luggage in it. I rather dread the long drive, but I can’t wait to have the opportunity to finally settle somewhere.
I guess that’s the end of the roadtrip. It’s been an amazing month, and I am thankful I did it, and for the friends I have made along the way. I have tons of photos to process and send out, but that won’t happen for awhile.
In the meantime, I’ve also been preparing for Burning Man, which happens in less than a month now. Finally found a (absolutely wonderful) group to camp with, making me all the more excited to go. Just another surreal experience to add to an already surreal summer.
But now, it is time for bed.