My friend Ace
Remember when I semi-trashed Ace in that blog post about how I would rather date the devil himself (herself? It’s 2019) than a devil’s advocate? Well in that blog post I mentioned how I owed Ace a really nice post about how wonderful he is and it looks like (checks watch) today is exactly that day so here we go.
I met Ace back when I was living in San Francisco. My college friend Cassie and I were hanging out in Dolores Park, on the arguably iconic hillside on a picnic blanket, enjoying some bread and wine - that we had sneakily poured into juice bottles, but looking back on it now…cops in San Francisco literally walk by people shooting up so we probably didn’t need to bother.
About an hour into hanging out, Cassie mentioned that her high school friend Ace was in the area, and going to drop by for a bit - and I have to admit my heart dropped a bit because in true ambivert fashion, I hate meeting new people exactly 50% of the time.
A few minutes later, Ace rode his bike up to our spot on the hill, and sat down next to us. The three of us started shooting the shit, commenting on people watching and Acroyoga, and I soon settled into the unexpectedly pleasant realization that this guy was a guy I could really like.
After about a half hour, San Francisco’s infamous Truffle Man came by. The Truffle Man was a guy who would walk around Dolores Park with golden buckets filled to the brim with marijuana truffles. He came up to our trio with his buckets, and we all looked at each other with a ‘well…should we?’ type of look and then Ace pulled a fistful of bills out of his pockets and we all ate a truffle.
(I want to note here that marijuana is legal in San Francisco.)
We chatted for about an hour more, soberly, and soon came to the consensus that these truffles were a bad batch, and we weren’t going to get high. I headed back to my apartment, Cassie to hers, and Ace back to his office to do some work.
After the 15 minute walk to my apartment, and 10 minutes into boiling some pasta at home, I realized I am fucking high as balls. I put on a sweatshirt, and went outside onto our apartment’s back steps to eat my pasta on the stairs. (Yes, I know this sounds super gay but whatever, I like to feel real air on my skin when I’m high I don’t know how else to explain it). I ate my pasta and wondered how Ace was handling this while being at his office.
Ace and I hung out a few more times after that. I invited him to a friend’s super bowl party. Ace came to my St. Patrick’s Day bar crawl (and showed up with Jameson in hand, like the class act he is). Ace, Cassie, Nick (Ace’s roommate) and I all drove down to Monterrey Aquarium one weekend and explored the area.
Then Ace and I spent a weekend day by ourselves one Saturday. We hung out at his apartment, and then wandered to the nearby Haight Street Festival. (For those of you not familiar with San Francisco – Haight Street is hippie-central). Ace and I strolled around the different tents and sampled different foods and drinks, and bought a variety of candles at a soy candle tent. At one point I froze and grabbed Ace’s arm.
“Ace,” I tugged, “Do you see it?”
Ace turned around and looked at the man I was pointing to, steps away from me, naked except for a black top hat, with a belt-like contraption around his penis.
“San Francisco is a lawless city!” he laughed (he used to always say this), “There’s nothing you could do here that would get you in trouble. Seriously, I can’t think of a single thing.”
We wandered over to a performing street magician and watched his act as he pulled a watermelon out from underneath a top hat, and fished dollar bills out from inside a lemon. We walked up a hill lined with Bay Area Money mansions after and theorized on how the magician performed his acts. We even tried to replicate it ourselves with a lemon later that night.
Soon enough we got hungry and stepped into an Italian restaurant 10 minutes within opening. To kill time we checked out the nearby game store and bought cards, dominos (after I put up a fight and Ace insisted he knew how to play and would teach me), and all of the two player games that the store offered (which was exactly one).
We went next door, ate some pizza, and walked back to Ace’s place, discussing how extremely sub-par the pizza was. We played dominos, a few board games, and when it got dark I took a car back to my place.
This happened about a year and a half ago and I still remember so much about it. It was honestly a Top 10 Favorite Day.
All best parts were there. Being outside, taking part of a community event, people watching, mansion viewing, Italian food, games, good conversation…everything.
Over the next 6 months Ace and I bar crawled, partook in happy hours, roadtrips to wineries, a trip to Vegas, and more.
I had never really had a ‘guy friend’ in my life before, usually any guy I got close to I would end up dating. It was great being friends with Ace because we could advise each other on our love life and give candid advice about what each gender thought - but know that it came from a place of friendship.
For example, if Ace told me that I wasn’t dressed nice enough for a night out (which he has done before, and we’ve both given each other shit for it), I know that he’s telling me that as a friend, but also as a guy. Does that make sense?
After about a year and a half of knowing Ace, he moved to New York, and as circumstance went, a few months I was moving to New York too. Into an apartment a block away from him (you can’t make this stuff up).
Ace and I now continue our adventures in Manhattan. We used to hang out at The Wine Jar in San Francisco, and now we hang out at Sister Jane across from his apartment. We used to go to festivals and aquariums and now we go to The Whitney and walk The Highline.
My favorite part about hanging out with Ace is that everything we do is an activity, if that makes sense. He came over last Saturday to my apartment and we just hung out for a few hours. He brought some macaroons and we made a game of cutting the macaroons perfectly, and eating them by ranking and discussing them as connoisseurs afterwards. I tried to read his Tarot cards and would ask him after every sentence eagerly, “did that resonate??” and he would nod that it did - even when it didn’t. We played catch. We stretched. Really, anything is on the menu for me to ask of him when we’re together. Bob’s Burgers was on the entire time and we didn’t watch any of it.
I also like being with Ace because I really admire so many things he does - and a big majority of them that are different than me. He works in the office until midnight. He’s always doing something outside, even when the weather is horrible. He loves to ride his bike and walk from the Upper East Side to the East Village. He never likes ordering in food, and always goes out to pick it up in person. And yes…he annoyingly likes the rude waiters at JG Melons. So I guess I don’t agree with everything.
So there you have it, a blog of praise for Ace after trashing him and using him as bait in my previous blog post.
Oh, and since everyone usually asks - yes we did kiss once. But it was just once! And to be honest, if you’re my friend for long enough of a period of time - I’ll probably end up kissing you.
So cheers to Ace (the Ace, the king) - the best guy you could spend a day adventuring around with.
But horrible taste in waiters.