A Tale of Two Cities

That animated kettle, Mrs. Potts and her feisty candlestick sidekick, Chip were onto something when they sang, “tale as old as time, true as it can be…” Why didn’t anyone tell me that everything I needed to know about love could just be found in a Disney movie? For that matter…where the hell is Prince Eric hiding? I can tell you ladies one thing, he’s sure not hanging out here in Los Shangeles! Trust me I’ve looked…even dressed a few up to play the part but truth-be-told it’s definitely not your man’s fantasy to have your legs bound together by green fish scales and fins. Whoops…don’t try that one at home girls ;) But like I said, we all know the story: you know the one where boy meets girl, girl gets boy, boy cheats on girl with her close friend, girl yells at boy for a quick little hour (60 minutes really isn’t that long these days anyway), boy showers girl with gifts of guilt, girl can’t turn down that Tiffany’s ring and most importantly the true love that she has for boy. The depressing part is probably the fact that I just summed up six long emotional years in one really long run-on sentence? Or rather that as a 26-year-old pretty, outgoing and loving businesswoman who graduated with top honors from UC Berkeley, that stupid sentence touches on the last 10 years of my life…

Captain and I broke up four years ago. Since then I—Shan Francisco—have relocated to Los Shangeles, made a way for myself as a loveable Hollywood Publicist and just opened my own business. I know what you’re thinking because I thought it too…of course Matt Damon is going to spot me driving down Sunset Blvd., frantically chase after me to confess his love and make my 6’1-blue-eyed-blonde-haired Captain seem about as sentimental as an episode from the Jersey Shore. Yet, I’ve been here for over two years now and it still hasn’t happened…but that’s probably just because Matt doesn’t know what kind of car I drive? (Pssttt Matt, it’s a black Honda Accord…Berkeley Alumni license plate holder and no hard feelings, I tend to speed and totally forgive you for the two-year delay). So anyway, I moved on…literally and figuratively…I put 500 miles in between us and never looked back. Until last December of course when I figured that I can glance in my rear-view mirror and still be looking forward…but yes until last December when Captain came to his senses (Matt Damon probably called him and let him know that he was going to be the bigger person and let Captain have me because he knew that’s where my heart was) and invited me to go to Hawaii with him for a romantic, rekindling rendezvous. So I did what any normal, smart, beautiful girl would do…forget about all the lonely nights that I spent crying because I missed him and would’ve done anything to just go back to when we were great…and never gave him a definite answer.

But c’mon Captain, step two was our fabulous trip to Hawaii together. Step one had to happen first and that involved me telling him how Taylor Swift must have spied on me when she wrote “Love Story” because I swear those were all my original thoughts! Yet time passed in silence and our Hawaii escapade went into the relationship vault alongside B. Spears and JT’s matching 2001 denim outfits. Captain probably would have heard my Taylor Swift analogy and replied with “Dude, Taylor is so hot,” therefore, just proving my point that life is so much better when you’re 16.

Fast-forward to last week. I was back home in the Bay Area visiting my family when I shot out of bed at 6:45 a.m. from cramps which I’m positive were only intended to be used as a form of torture during times of war. I don’t know how many times I have to keep reminding my uterus that I am not a soldier and there is no mandatory draft…so back off! However my other theory was that maybe this is my stomach’s way of telling me that it’s uncomfortable at this size and nobody is at the gym at 7:00 a.m. on a Saturday; so get your ass outta bed, pop some Midol and let the treadmill become my primary source of hatred…well, that and Captain of course. Here’s the nice thing about being back in your hometown, you know which Safeway is on the way to your closest 24-hour Fitness and aisle four is where you can always find the well-stocked shelves of female drugs that never fail you in these painful times of desperation. Side note: ladies, two pills every eight hours WILL FAIL YOU though. It’s obvious that a man wrote the directions on those Midol boxes because every woman knows that four pills will only buy you five hours…TOPS! I rounded the aisle’s corner like a bat out of hell, did a California stop as I reached for my prize and sprinted over to row of bottled waters in preparation for my dreaded workout. I opt for a tall Smart Water every time…I figure that the combination of the gym and Jennifer Aniston’s endorsement pretty much classifies it as bottled holy water. I was leaving aisle six when I looked up and realized that my stomach (as if we weren’t already enemies on this given morning) had just dropped and landed on my feet.

His chiseled jaw made a perfect square as his lips parted upward to form that to-die-for smile. It had been three years since I had seen his face…meaning it had been 1,095 days since my eyes met Captain’s outside of a Facebook page or torn photograph that I had crafted back together using that amazing ultra clear scotch tape (office supplies, the reason why all things are possible). Captain jumped right in leaving no time for awkward small talk. “So I have something very important to tell you,” he said. I thought to myself, this is it…this is totally it…Captain had been sitting outside my house this morning in his car trying to find the courage to come knock on my door and tell me that he couldn’t live without me and we’d be together forever. Of course his plans were interrupted when I sped off to the store in a frantic rage. But he had followed me here and was going to get down on one knee and propose. He’d really be getting some later tonight too if he’s arranged for “Love Song” to start playing over the loud speaker during all of this! “Shan, I’m getting married in March and we’re having a baby.” It was the ultimate Sex and the City “Carrie/Aiden” moment; except I wasn’t 110 pounds with solid muscle dressed head to toe in Chanel couture like SJP. Again, who really pays attention to those minor details anyway? I took a few seconds to regroup, come back to my senses after Captain had so kindly drop-kicked my heart like a third grade kickball game. I gathered just the facts: time, date, location, an address to send a wedding gift to and then proceeded to tell Captain how happy I was for him. I knew it was about T-minus five seconds before I projectile vomited in one direction or another. So I told him that I had better leave and go pay for my Midol and Smart Water because Safeway actually offers a 50% discount for that combo if you purchase it before 8:30 a.m. You know, just a cool little marketing ploy that it had started to help women escape from aisle six when news breaks that their life is over…simple suicide prevention if you will (a bit mellow-dramatic, I’m aware ;).

The gym was out of the picture at this point. I drove straight home and crawled into my bed. The same bed that Captain and I used to make-out on for hours back in high school…how convenient at a time like this. Oh well, thank god I took those stupid glow-in-the-dark stars down from my ceiling years ago or else this flashback would have seriously been unbearable. Then came the rage, I thought to myself: “What the hell? How am I just now finding this out? I wonder how many people have known about this and never told me?” I started with the A’s and called every girlfriend of mine down to the Z’s…this wound was totally going to be reopened in a month when Verizon Wireless reminds me of my current actions. I ended that 500th call by trying to remember who I was before Captain. I was a straight-A student. I was a great older-sister. I was fun. I was constantly doing too much. I was all of those things still, but then it hit me…I was happiest when I was a cheerleader! Cheesy, I know but I can’t explain the adrenaline that rushes through your veins when you’re performing. When you’ve made deal with the cheer devil to not breathe for a solid three-minute routine…and actually love it! (Sickening I know).

LIGHTBULB! It’s time for me to be a cheerleader again! Yes, I’m 26, work 90 plus hours a week as a publicist, just started my own business and dedicate no time toward my own sanity. Yet, I know I need a farfetched goal. Let’s face it, it’s up to me to find some damn inspiration if I’m really going to get where I want to be mentally, physically and emotionally. So there we have it…it’s official, I’m going to be a 49er Gold Rush Girl! I guess I should clarify: the 49ers have been my all-time favorite football team since I was a pee-wee and Captain’s a die-hard Raiders fan…ew, I know!  Now what you ask? How much time do I even have to prepare for this? I know I’m crazy, but I actually took the time to ask those questions too. Realistically, what questions did I not ask that day? Before I go any further though can I just say how grateful I am for mobile internet and my trusted Blackberry? If it weren’t for that little rectangle of joy I would have had to get my ass out of bed and face the cruel, harsh, heart-stomping world that lay outside my bedroom door just to go online. Could you imagine? I can’t! Instead I continued to bawl hysterically just to make myself feel better, only pausing to refocus my eyes on the screen as I Googled the Gold Rush Girl Try-Out dates. What comes next isn’t shocking, I mean how could it be when it’s obvious that Captain must have made a deal with the universe to purposely ruin my life. But here’s what I’m up against; I’ve got until March 28, 2010 to prepare for my 49er Gold Rush Girls Try-Outs. A day guaranteed to go down in infamy (thanks FDR), because as I’m half-naked strutting my stuff amongst 18-year-old, blonde-haired, Sunset-tan-covered babies; Captain will be walking down the aisle only to say “I do” to some pregnant girl who wishes her name rhymed with a plethora of cities in California. It’s a unique quality to have, I know ;)

So folks that’s where I’m at right now! This is the story of one girl, many dreams and two cities- Shan Francisco and Los Shangeles. I’ve got two months to get my dancing chops up to par with the perfection of Beyonce in Single Ladies (should have put the ring on this finger Captain), deliver on this full-body make-over, and finally become a 49er Gold Rush Girl! I admit I have no idea what’s in store for me but I can promise you that my documentation of the next 60 days is sure to keep you coming back for more! So what do you think, can I do it? Any advice? Stay tuned! Oh yeah, if you see Captain…kick him…if you run into Matt Damon, tell him to call me for Christ sake, enough is enough already!

Kisses!

Shan Francisco