Hot Off The Press

It was the most fitting way to end a date.

I was driven home and was so kindly waited upon as the gentleman made sure I made it to the front door safely, flashlight illuminating my path.

Unfortunately, it wasn't my date who exemplified these courteous gentlemanly qualities, but my Uber driver.

And it was after the date I instigated and the NBA tickets I purchased (though he offered), that I was let off a half hour away from home that I realized that this was not the guy for me.

Those weren't the only signals I received that led me to this conclusive decision.

Throughout the evening, I was constantly given mixed vibes.

Aside from being greeted with a hug and the signature "Wow, you are tall" comment (like it's a flaw on my part), I was given some very deterring advice on the subject of moving to the city.

From that, I was suggested to be more of a hustler, that I should try dating apps (wait, were we not on a date?!), and at the very end, a hug and a "Next time you're in the city, I'll introduce you to some friends."

Annnnnnnnnd friend-zoned.

Granted, I do not know the circumstances of his feelings. While there was a wee bit of an age difference, I was attracted to him and unfortunately, he didn't feel the same.

Which is fine.

But the rejection sucks. It leaves you disappointed, hurt, susceptible to bouts of tearful outbursts, and has you wondering "Why? What's wrong with me?"

For a brief period, you wish his name would disappear from your mind, which actually further cements it, and then that stage turns into anger.

After anger comes the hopeful reconciliation thought process and finally, the "Boi, Bye" phase that has you pulling on your Beyoncé pants and moving on.

If you're like me, you experience them in the course of mere minutes. And being the sensitive and emotional young woman I am, I'm left over-thinking and at a crossroads as to how to go forward next. Do I text him? Why hasn't he texted me? Should I convey hurt, disappointment, rage, or should I pretend that that didn't just happen?

In my experience though, I've found that when I'm in a situation such as this: hurt, lost, and in a topsy-turvy state, I simply let things simmer.

I allow a few days to pass, I take a walk, talk to those closest to me (you know who you are), and eventually, I'm comfortable, clear-minded, and ready to communicate or simply move on.

I've found that in any of the above stages, my mind is muddled and that when I act upon my initial reaction, things never go well.

In the instance/case of being patient, I either communicate back with clarity with the proper thing to say, or I move forward, a more experienced and confident woman.

As much as I hurt at the time of rejection, I always appreciate the experience and what it has taught me about myself and men. I'm new to the dating scene (no surprise there), entering the stage and learning my lines. It's foreign to me, but so exciting! And all these dates have taught me what I do/don't like, and how I should be treated as the brilliant woman I am. With that, my girl jams playlist continues to grow with each and every experience.

I'm learning to live my life and start my fairytale when I meet the right guy, as opposed to attempting to squeeze a guy into my pre-conceived notion as to how my fairytale should be.

Until that, I'll let those tears dry and I'll continue to take these escapades in stride. Embrace them for what they are: experiences, and lessons learned.

Who knows? Maybe someday it'll be my date and not my Uber driver that takes care of me on the way home.

In the meantime, I'll embrace my inner Wonder Woman and be the superhero I know I am.

I don't say this often, if ever. But yesterday, I smelled weed and for once in my life, I agreed that it fit the scene.

I was one of the many who had flocked to the de Young Museum to check out their new groovy exhibition: The Summer of Love Experience.

Although I signed up for it via FIDM's Alum Event, I had seen advertisements for it before, in London out of all places! I remember fondly looking at the posters and wishing I could attend and some months later, I was one of the many cats coming to see it.

With focus on art, fashion, and rock & roll, I was taken back in time and transported to a city rich in rebellion and thirsty for change.

Psychedelically engaging, it completely hooked me. Whether it was the brilliantly colored posters, the Grateful Dead playing in the background, or complete immersion in the sensations of LSD (but not literally), I felt captured and my heart was once again stolen by San Francisco's rich history.

Looking about, the patronage of the exhibition was mostly older, and one of my most memorable parts of the experience was talking with an older gentleman about the connotation of the hippies.

I think he may have lived in San Francisco during the fab Summer of Love in 1967, for he was reminiscing about his friend "Danny Buttons" who was known for his denim jacket smothered in buttons and pins, and how these hippies were really on the forefront of change during the late sixties, but were instead remembered as being loose, laid back, free, flowy dressed, "free the nipple" types of people, detached from being a traditional citizen.

But being a hippie wasn't about dressing a certain way, it was about having a certain attitude. They came together through their passion for change: artistically, politically, and culturally. And during the Summer of Love, these like-minded individuals came from all over the country to San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury neighborhood, which would become one of the most iconic spots during the 1960's counterculture movement.

I don't think it could've come at a more opportune moment, this revolutionary exhibition. Fifty years later, I think these issues are just as prevalent and that another generation of young people will come forth to take action on concerns that matter most: social justice, awareness of the natural world, inclusiveness, and an attitude of participation.

And with weed now legal in some states...

When I finished, my perception and interpretation of the hippie was greatly smooshed and I was left feeling appreciative for those individuals back then, and still out there, that behave in the greater good of spreading awareness and promoting distinctive individuality.

It was definitely an experience in itself, and I can't help but wonder when the next revolution will come, for without a doubt, the times they are a-changing...

do your own thing: hippie is more than a way of dressing. it's a spirit which fills young people.

- Yves Saint Laurent, July 1978

the poster shop: freaky, funny, and fashionable, these are the signs of our times.

-Herbert Gold, Satruday Evening Post, 1968

put you in the mood: the Deadhead is that person (who) wherever they turn up in society... is looking for an adventure in America, you know, something to do that is not like (what) everyone else does, and the chance to get out and scare themselves a little.

-Jerry Garcia, early 1970's