Isn't it annoying how whenever there's two of something, people have to bring out that same old Dickens reference? But how else to catchily convey that I went to two meetups this weekend?
On Saturday, there was AVEN. Or the A-Team. I don't really know what to call it anymore, now that we're trying to draw people in from outside AVEN. Anyway, two people besides me came. We had a grand old time exploring Glen Canyon, fighting off coyotes with baseball bats, and eating a lot.
On Sunday, I accidentally attended a meetup of Couch Surfers. These are people who travel around and sleep on people's couches instead of hotels or hostels. I think there were about 10 people there. The leader of the group claimed that if he set a time and place, people would always show up.
It doesn't take much time to learn that San Francisco is a very transient city, with people coming, realizing it's too expensive for any living thing, and then going. This atmosphere makes people friendly and amenable to meeting new folks. Even the most random groups will draw crowds. If we didn't call our group asexual, but instead claimed to be vegan kebab-makers or Munispotters, we'd probably have more people than we knew what to do with.
It's odd that Couch Surfers can draw a crowd, while something as basic and primal as a sexuality can't (yet). My goal here isn't to make people feel bad or guilty for not attending meetups. Trust me, that's the last thing I want; life is hard enough. The issue lies somewhere beyond what any individual does or doesn't do.
The first AVEN meetup I attended was in November 2006. Four people made it. This was also the last meetup not planned by me, although I really hope someone else plans a meetup soon. Anyway, my logical thought was that slowly, painfully slowly, this number would increase. And that hasn't happened at all. Attendance peaked at six a few months after that, but that was the only time, ever, that a meetup had more than four people (and four is rare-- usually it's two or three). I keep thinking that this isn't working in its current incarnation, and that I need to change it. But to what? It's like banging my head against a wall. There are so many things in the universe that I don't understand. This is one of them. Most of those things, I let them be. This one feels deceptively like I can control it. But maybe I can't.