On Valentine's Day, about 15 minutes into the speed-dating party she'd paid $35 to attend, my friend Nika decided she'd had enough. So she bolted.She took a train across the Bay, rode a subway across town, and walked four blocks uphill to a little bookstore. There, she met me and a group of people who identify themselves as Quirkyalones. By the time she left, she was clutching a tulip someone had given her, grinning like a schoolgirl who'd just been asked to go the prom.
It's no secret that Valentine's Day tends to bring out all kinds of insecurities in singles. Even the bravest among us can't help but squirm as the red-letter day approaches: Should I stay home to avoid the flock of lip-locked lovers on the street? Should I hand a random stranger some long-stem roses and ask her out to dinner? Would someone respond to my eleventh hour proposal?
Thankfully, my friend Sasha, the author of Quirkyalone, invented the International Quirkyalone Day seven years ago. It is, in her words, "a do-it-yourself celebration of romance, friendship, and independent spirit ... [It's] not anti-Valentine's Day. It's NOT a pity party for single people."
This weekend, Sasha was hosting the annual gathering at Red Hill Books, hidden among the quiet cafes and overlooked restaurants in Bernal Height. One of the regular features of the event is a List Slam. It works just like a poetry slam, but instead of poetry, people share some kind of list, often created on the spot.
One friend, a fellow writer, rattled off a list that resembled a zookeeper's catalog. Apparently, she'd thought long and hard about what her ex-boyfriends would be if they were wild creatures:
- Johnathan was definitely a bear cub.
- Stephen was, well, he was tall, so he'd be a giraffe.
- Sergei was a bear cub too.
- Alex, well, he should be a bear cub too ...
"Yeah, I don't know where my bear-cub attraction is coming from," she replied.
"What would I be if I were an animal?" I asked.
"Probably a gentle lion," she said.
"Can I mention your list in my blog?" I asked.
"Sure," she said, "just don't use my real name."
"What should I call you?" I asked.
"Mountain Goat Girl," she said.
"I think its' dangerous for a mountain goat to be going out with bear cubs," I told her.
(Mountain Goat Girl and I never dated, quite possibly because I was not a bear cub.)
After the List Slam, all the Quirkyalones migrated to a nearby bar to sample the Quirkytini, a cocktail created to mark the occasion (the mix calls for a splash of hibiscus extract, vodka, and a few other ingredients). When I went to get one for Nika, the bartender (whose wavy locks and large brown eyes reminded me of a gazelle) handed me a plate of cupcakes. I in turn offered one to the stranger next to me.
"No, thanks," she said, "I'm watching my girlish figure."
"Have you tried the Quirkytini?" I asked.
"What's that?" she asked.
I gave a brief history of the Quirkyalone Day to my new friend, who introduced herself as Jillian.
"Come here," Jillian said. "Let me show you something."
She led me to the bathroom door and pointed to a flyer, which read: Love Stinks! Join us for the anti-Valentine's Day gathering. Order a Broken-Heart Cocktail and get wasted.
The Love-Stinks party was gone by the time the Quirkyalones arrived (the two groups wouldn't have mixed well anyway). Nevertheless, the doe-eyed bartender said she'd gladly make me one of their jaded drinks if I'd care to try it.
"OK, but light on the vodka, please," I said. "I'm not that broken up."
Jillian seemed amused.
"Things didn't work out between me and my lover either, but I'm still friends with her," she volunteered, in the newfound camaraderie prompted by Broken-Heart cocktails.
Nika has dated both men and women. As luck would have it, Jillian fits the type of women she usually falls for.
"I'd like you to meet my friend Nika," I said to Jillian.
Then, once they began warming up to each other, I made myself scarce.
About 30 minutes later, I witnessed something that restored my faith in chivalry. Jillian plucked a tulip out of a vase and handed it to Nika.
"I saw what you did there," I told Jillian later. "That was very chivalrous."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"That little gesture you made belongs to the Age of King Arthur and knights in shining armors," I said. "It's very romantic."
Jillian blushed.
Earlier, I asked Nika if I should give Jillian her email. She gave me the green light.
"Maybe you two can hang out," I suggested to Jillian.
"OK," she replied with a knowing smile.
Who knew a Quirkyalone with a Broken-Heart cocktail could play Cupid so well?
(Image: International Quirkyalone Day logo from www.quirkyalone.net. In her book, Sasha Cagen identifies Elizabeth I and Katherine Hepburn as QuirkyAlones.)
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