Live, Laugh, and Labyrinths. "A Thanksgiving Tale in San Francisco.” Day 1

Forget 'Live, Love, Laugh,' folks, my Thanksgiving escapade in San Francisco has equal parts of 'Love, Laugh, and Labyrinths.' — but this is the real deal guys, packed with romance, laughter, and a surprising number of doors that all looked the same.

I’ve wanted to go to San Francisco for some time now, and this looked like the perfect weekend to get lost and get to know a little better J, plus San Fran's street layout is just an elaborate maze that can test anyone’s relationship resilience. So, I relied everything on that, a good GPS and my wicked sense of humor.

It all kicked off on a Wednesday night when J strolled into my place at a fashionably late 9 pm. No kiss, though. Weird, right? I mean, I'm about to embark on a romantic trip to San Francisco, and I'm trying to play cool or was I just got stuck in a no-kiss zone already?

Thanksgiving morning rolled around, and guess who's bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 4:30 am? Not me. But J was, and she somehow managed to look amazing while sipping coffee from my “If You Love Me, Let Me Sleep” coffee mug.

We hit the road at the crack of dawn, cruising at a pace that would have made Hamilton jealous, (Hamilton the F1 driver, not the founding father.)

Fast forward to noon, and we're in a strangely empty San Francisco, like a scene out of a dystopian movie. But hey, we checked into our hotel, freshened up, and J pulled out a handwritten list of things to do. A list! Discovering that J can sleep 18 hours a day and loves a good to-do list has officially upgraded her from ‘the girl I'm dating' to 'spirit animal.' Move over, Koalas—there's a new MVP in town!"

Our first stop? The Japanese Tea Park. We planned to join a tour, but a sudden “rainstorm” directly from the tour’s guide mouth who seemed to have mastered the art of saying nothing interesting forced us to go solo. Post-tea adventure, we tried hitting up the Science Museum, but it was closing soon, and J was hungry.

Note to self: never mess with J when she's hungry. So, we dove into a Chinese restaurant because, well, nothing screams American Thanksgiving like Chinese food in San Francisco, right?

Back at the hotel, we indulged in the complimentary wine, and I decided to enlighten J on the wonders of Kalimotxo (a perfect mix of red wine and cola). Even the bartender was impressed. So, there I was, thinking I'd hit peak coolness after introducing J to the wonders of Kalimotxo. However, little did I know, that my post-wine bathroom break would transform into an adventure straight out of Alice in Wonderland. I couldn’t find my way back to her. I wandered through mysterious doors, in fact, I’ve opened more doors than Alice down the rabbit hole. I visited utility rooms that felt more like Mad Hatter's tea party than bathroom and stumbled into a conference room where I half-expected the Cheshire Cat to appear with some cryptic wisdom. If only I had a white rabbit to guide me through the labyrinth of doors, but no luck – just me, lost in a tipsy wonderland. The struggle was real.

Eventually, I had to admit defeat and confess to her that I was basically a lost puppy. Surprisingly, she laughed. And man, her laugh is like a symphony of joy. Note to self: cherish the sound of J's laughter, and how her eyes lit when she smiles.

Fueled by liquid courage, we set out to find a karaoke bar, only to discover it's closed. No worries, she said—back to the hotel bar it is. And, you guessed it, J was hungry, it had been at least 2 hours since the last time we ate.

Note to self: Set an alarm.

So, we cap off the night with dinner and a few drinks. Because what's a Thanksgiving adventure without a tipsy stroll back to the hotel?

But San Francisco had one final plot twist up its sleeve for our very first night in town. As we settled into our dinner, we noticed a fascinating spectacle unfolding at the table in front of us. There, in all their glory, was a dynamic trio - a grandpa, a grandson, and the grandpa's dapper lover.

The grandson, clearly the wingman of the century, decided it was his duty to point out just how sexy and handsome I was. Now, if I had a nickel for every time I got a grandchild's approval in a restaurant. I'd had one nickel to be exact, not a wealthy man you might say, but a nickel is a nickel.

In the grand finale of our Thanksgiving adventure, I couldn't help but think, 'Well, at least I've got the approval of a random 50 something-grandson in a restaurant.' Who needs a Michelin star when you've got the endorsement of the most charming matchmaker in the room? I mean, this was the love story we didn't know we needed.

And so, with the sound of the grandson's compliments echoing in my ears, we bid adieu to our dinner neighbors and wrapped up a Thanksgiving day with more turns and labyrinths than the best telenovelas.

PS: The individuals appearing in the pictures were fed promptly every two hours, following the J’s-approved schedule. Any resemblance to Wonderland characters, or dinner-theater love triangles is purely coincidental.