My first weekend in San Francisco since mid August, and despite the weather it was a great one, reminding me of all the reasons I love this city. Ben drove up for the weekend, with his two huge dogs, because I'd told him we get Indian Summer here this time of year. We had plans to take the dogs to the beach, and to the Marin Headlands (one of my favorite places, which Ben has never seen). But the fog was in almost all weekend, and we had little sun.

I love Ben's dogs, but they're a handful. First time they entered the apartment, they scampered about, figuring out the layout, then settled on same favorite spots for lying down: Brewster (the cute, old chap) in the bathroom, and Indira (who always opts for the most comfortable locations) on the padded seats around the living room windows. It was already late in the evening by the time Ben arrived, and he was beat from the long drive, so we just stayed home, and I cooked us a late dinner. We were in bed by eleven-thirty.

We'd put the dogs outside in the lane between my front gate and my front door. But Indira barked at every passing pedestrian, and in the middle of the night, Ben got up and put them out back, on my deck. I slept fitfully, waiting for them to bark again, which, apparently they did persistently in the early morning (though we couldn't hear them). An irate neighbor rang the doorbell at seven to complain, so the dogs ended up inside after all, taking up their already chosen comfy spots.

I enjoy every moment of my time with Ben. We're in such perfect sympathy with each other that everything is a delight. And we breezed through the weekend on a cloud. We started the weekend with a workout at my gym, then brunch at Baghdad Cafe. It was actually sunny in the Castro, if rather cool, and we hoped the fog would stay away from Ocean Beach, where apparently you could let the dogs off leash. I'd had idyllic visions of the pair of us throwing balls for the dogs. In reality, it was cold and overcast at the beach, we forgot to take their tennis balls, and in any case you couldn't let the dogs off the leash. Brewster, in particular, is not much into walking anyway, so he kept stopping, and looking back hopefully in the direction we'd come from. So my idyllic vision will have to be deferred.

In the late afternoon we went to a party, and met a number of my friends, but we were both tired after our interrupted night's sleep, so we didn't stay long. We retired to my apartment for a long snooze. We slept in separate beds to maximize our chance of rest. I got up an hour earlier than we'd planned and found Ben awake and dressed in the living room, doing some work. Apparently the next door neighbor was rebuilding a car or something, and Ben hadn't been able to sleep. So we watched the Presidential debate, which I'd recorded on Thursday night, both of us agreeing that Bush looked inept, put-upon, and completely unpresidential.

We ended our day at the club Mezzanine, coming home relatively early for us, three o'clock. The music hadn't been great, but we'd had our usual wonderful time dancing together. Ben wanted me to hear a club song called "Save My Soul" on his ipod, and we lay on the padded benches underneath my living room windows, with candles burning, listening together to the song. A sweet moment.

On Sunday, it was overcast again; dissappointing because today was the Castro Street Fair. We rolled out of the apartment with the dogs around eleven, and immediately ran into one of my next-door neighbors, a nice woman I'd chatted with in the past. It turned out she was an artist, and was preparing for her Open Studio (a San Francisco weekend tradition in October) the following weekend. Since we wouldn't be here next weekend, she gave us a look. It's the kind of thing I love about San Francisco, at least compared to Los Angeles - a real sense of community. Throughout the day I found myself saying to Ben how much I loved San Francisco, and each time he would respond with a little bit of guilt because he knows I'm giving up this city to move to LA to live with him. I honestly wasn't trying to make him feel guilty: I was just reminding myself, I guess, of what I'm giving up.

We had a great brunch at a little cafe just down 18th Street called It's Delectable, and then took the dogs into the street fair, which started just a couple of blocks further down 18th. I was a little bit worried that the crowds would be too much for the dogs. Indira is 150lbs, just five pounds lighter than Ben, and she could cause major trouble if she got excited. But mostly, people gave way for the dogs, and showered them with attention. I began to think that if I'd had a beautiful dog these last ten years, I'd have been hitched a long time since.

It was exhausting, though, being pulled through the crowds by the dogs, so we went home after an hour or so and dropped them off, and drove over to pick Terry up so we could go to some Open Studios over in Potrero Hill. We spent a very happy hour or so touring the various studios in one building, fantasizing about getting a home equity loan when we buy our new house together, and coming back to San Francisco to spend ten thousand dollars on art.

There was just time to drop Terry off, and get changed, and head out to Mass, a venerable San Francisco monthly tea-dance, which I haven't been to in a long time because it had seemed it was dying off. But we found the music was teriffic, and the crowd energetic and friendly. We had the best night out dancing since coming back from the trip. I even got to go up to the DJ booth. He started to mix in a song that we'd loved in Europe, so I tried to attract his attention to ask him the name of the song, and he invited me up. He was called Phil B (oh, sorry, I should use his full official title D.J. Phil B), and was a friendly Brit. The song was called Lola's Theme, by the way - a great, catchy song.

First thing Monday morning, Ben was off on the road back to LA. I'm almost always sad after Ben has left, but on Monday I felt, if anything, recharged. I dropped off three pairs of pants to be altered by the unflappable Chinese woman tailor, Nonnie, at Sit and Spin in the Castro (she was the one who'd tailored our sexy sailor outfits for the cruise), and spent the rest of the morning catching up with my personal life, which I've not had time to do since coming back from the trip (I have hardly anything to do at work right now). It really wasn't until the afternoon, when I finally went to work, and started to feel bored at the lack of things at work for me to do, that I had the time to start missing Ben. Both of us are eager for the time when we won't have all these constant separations. Of course that also means we won't have the joyful reunions.

I finally spoke to my Dad today, for the first time in a couple of months. I'd stopped calling him because I was uncomfortable about not being able to tell him about Ben, since the subject of my gayness had been completely taboo between us for fifteen years.. Finally, I'd written him just before going on the trip telling him that I'd met somebody I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and I didn't want to lie to him anymore. I came back from the trip, fairly dreading finding his letter, and found to my absolute relief that he was completely accepting about it. So when we spoke today, there was a definite edge of emotion in both our voices, although we covered it up in the traditional British way. Towards the end of the phone call I told my Dad that Ben and I were soul-mates, and he said that he was very happy for me, and that all he'd ever wanted for me was that I be happy, and that he was looking forward to meeting Ben at Christmas. I don't really know what I've done to deserve such a large amount of .... grace ... ,for want of a better word, this year.