Category Archives: on Los Angeles

dating, on Los Angeles

2013: A Recap

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I made out with a guy in San Francisco who I am 99% sure was gay and trying to prove a point to his lover, Igor. No, I don’t make this stuff up.

I made it to 5 dates with a vegetarian who made me share non-carnivorous meals with him and he lived at home above his parents’ garage without a bedroom door. Again, I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried. He now owns the title of the only man I have made it to 5 dates with in 13 months.

My mother grew so anxious over the state of my singlehood that she literally chased down men in the street of Chicago for me.

A drunk best man rejected me at a wedding.

I considered hiring a Los Angeles actor to bring home to my family for Christmas. I decided that taking a vacation to Thailand was a better investment.

I went on a date with a skinny man who invited me to drinks and then he drank iced tea. I felt awkward and judged for enjoying my glass of Chardonnay.

At the end of 2013, I still have my health, an income, wine, and a pretty awesome group of friends. At the end of the day, that makes for a pretty decent year. And the bar has been set very, very low for you, 2014.

Bring it on.

Cheers,

A.

on Los Angeles, The 12 Lessons of Christmas

Lesson #6: It is a Small, Small World.

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Lesson #6 of the 12 Lessons of Christmas: It is a Small, Small World.

Recently, I found myself at a birthday brunch sitting next to the girlfriend of a short guy I had dated over 2 years ago. It turns that they had started dating shortly after he and I stopped seeing each other, which goes to show that we all have our Good Luck Chuck encounters.

As I chatted with her and sipped mimosas, I realized she was quite a delight and that I could see how they were well-suited for each other. She was also far more petite than I am and much more of a match for short guy — height-wise. I kept it to myself that I had once schtooped her boyfriend, although I think she connected the dots on her own.

I’ve said it once, I’ve indeed said it twice, and my goodness – LA is a small, small place.

dating, on Los Angeles

5 Reasons Why I’m a Bad Date.

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We know I spend a lot of time here complaining about the men of Los Angeles. But I’m willing to admit the common thread among the ones I’ve dated was obviously me. Which begs the question – what exactly am I doing wrong in the dating game?

1) Things in my life have been difficult lately, especially work-wise. Sometimes, it’s hard to keep these complaints to myself. Maybe it’s time to acknowledge most people are very stressed about their jobs and to keep my frustrated thoughts to myself until date three or fifteen. You know who someone doesn’t want to date? Debbie Downer.

2) When I actually really, truly like a guy, I get awkward. Like spaz city awkward in front of him. Revert back to 5th grade (mouth chock full of braces, chubby red cheeks, and monster eyeglasses) awkward. I can see why this has frightened some Prince Charmings away.

3) I’ll admit it – I have some commitment issues. Signing a year-long lease on an apartment gives me hives. I don’t like to plan vacations more than 2 months in advance (and even that seems a little close…who knows what could change in my life? But guess what — life will be exactly the same in 2 months!!).

4) I have a short attention span. The minute the conversation turns to minute sports details I don’t know, I start to wonder “If I get home in 45 minutes, I can catch The Walking Dead on my DVR before it’s past my nerd alert bedtime…”

And finally…

5) I keep an online dating blog and karma is simply biting me in the ass.

dating, on Los Angeles

Rejection.

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Here’s a topic that I have not covered too much because my ego hurts too much admitting to it: rejection.

Two weeks ago, I attended a magnificent wedding of a fellow USC alum in Santa Monica and the minute I saw Mr. Best Man at the altar of the Catholic ceremony, I said – HIM. DIBS.

Now it’s not very often that I truly set my mind to something and don’t get it. 25 years ago on a cold January Chicago day, I told my mother that once I was a grown-up, I was moving to a place where I didn’t have to wear a coat (I mean, practicality at its best at age 4). 11 years ago, I walked on USC’s campus and said “Yes, I’m going to attend college here.” One year later, I started my freshman year at USC in the balmy climate of Los Angeles.

In late 2008, at the height of our failing economy, I set my mind to get a job in marketing. Granted, I got it and it sucked the soul out of me for 2.5 years. But I did it.

If the last 5+ years of dating in Southern California have taught me anything, they have taught me humility. Everyone in LA is here to get what they want.

But I digress…

Back to Mr. Best Man.

Mr. Best Man was a  Stanford grad. A former baseball player slash current personal trainer. I couldn’t have asked for a better Saturday Night Random Makeout. The competition consisted of 2 drunk bridesmaids who started at 10 AM and I had the upper sober hand.

The groom was on my side. Two groomsmen made absolutely sure we were introduced. Mr. Best Man and I danced. We took a shot. We sat and had a fun conversation over wedding cake. Then, the wedding party failed to make an after party happen and I found myself outside with a tired Best Man at midnight who just wanted to go to sleep. Alone.

And so I got into a taxi by myself. There are a million excuses for why he didn’t at least for my number but after 14+ years of dating, I know a blow-off when I see one.

The evening was a bit of a blow to my ego. Like I arrogantly said, I’m not very used to not getting what I want. I’m not used to putting myself out there and getting shot down. On top of it, it was the metaphorical nail to the coffin to what’s been a pretty terrible year of dating.

How much more of this can I really take? I’m pretty sure my standards are already dirt-level low (does he at  have a job at Radioshack? Cool! Does he have a college degree? No, but an associate’s degree will do. He lost all his hair? HA we’re only getting older. He’s bald at 30? — Let’s go!).

Go ahead, mock the anonymous blog writer. But I’m just getting real here, guys. How much more rejection and bullshit can we take?

Then there was the time my date ran away from me at the end of the night after walking me to my car. And by “that time”, I mean, last night.

Regardless, all that’s left to do is fill the hole in the ego and soldier on. Because at this point in life, you can’t just roll into a ball in the corner of your bedroom and stop trying. You save that for when you are a 50-year-old spinster with 7 cats.

dating, on Los Angeles

Guest Post: Dealbreakers

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As I’ve mentioned before, this summer has been all work and no play for me. So I pleaded with my friends and readers for anyone who actually has the time to date to please share their stories. Amazingly, some fantastic writers answered the call!

So, dear readers, I give you the tale of D., who decided to share her thoughts on modern day dealbreakers here in LA, in her own words…

Every now and then, it’s good to change things up so….I’m honored to be A’s first guest blogger (otherwise known as “D”, the also single and fun sidekick and partner-in-crime that makes a cameo on this blog from time to time). I have had the wonderful pleasure of listening and sometimes even experiencing first hand some of A’s dating experiences as said sidekick.  I, on the other hand, have been hesitant to join the world of online dating for several irrational reasons which I won’t bore you with but the main reason being I’m clinging onto the hope that I’ll meet my prince charming the old-fashioned way – preferably through a friend, face to face, with witty banter and a drink in hand.

Well – this actually happened to me about a month ago. It always happens when you least expect it, right? A invited me to accompany her to a friend’s going-away party, at a bar that was east of the 405 (shocker). We decided to leave the Westside bubble and give it a try. I met a boy who was also there for the party, who I thought was cute. We chatted and exchanged witty banter, had a few drinks,  and at the end of the night he asked for my number.

Fast forward several weeks later and we had our first date at Harvard + Stone. It was a drinks date that I really didn’t expect to last longer than a few hours but we managed to have natural flowing conversation for a good 5 hours. During which, we asked the usual first date questions (“Where are you from?”, “How long have you lived in LA?”, “What are your favorite bars?”) and the subject of drinking and driving in LA came up. I had driven to Harvard + Stone and he made a comment on how I seemed to be “handling my alcohol well” (about 3 drinks in). Which I was. So I decided to share my story about getting pulled over at a DUI checkpoint a year ago and having it scare the crap out of me (I passed all of the tests of course) so I wouldn’t ever drink and drive. Ever. He then proceeded to share that he did, in fact, get pulled over for a DUI. The story went something like he was on medication, he also had a few drinks, it made for a bad combination, and then he crashed into some barricade. Or something along those lines. No one was hurt luckily, except for his bank account and probably his ego.

At this point I’m thinking to myself – is this a red flag? Is this going to be the deal-breaker? Living in LA all of my life, I know that drinking and driving is a prevalent problem and while I’m not proud to admit this, I’ve certainly had my fair share of maybe 1 too many drinks and getting in the car.  Everyone is susceptible of getting a DUI, right?

Well, I decided to curb those negative thoughts for the time being and wasn’t faced with it again until this past Thursday night, when we went on our 3rd date. He offered to pick me up from my place – we went to the movies and all was going swell. (On a sidenote, I would highly recommend “The Way Way Back” as a great date movie – very funny and touching.) We got back into the car to head home when he turned on his engine, and then the beeping started. He had to blow into the breathalizer in order for the car to start. On the way home, he had to blow into it for a 2nd time (not sure why because the car was still running). Insert hand to forehead, SMH.

Was this the real red flag? Am I dating someone who is not responsible, who spent a night in jail, and who could possibly do this again? In my mind, all signs point to NO, he seems to have realized it was a colossal mistake and insists he will never even think about having a drink and getting into the car again.  Which I do believe. Maybe I have the first date blinders on, maybe I just don’t know him well enough yet, or maybe I just don’t want to admit it, but I’d like to think that this red flag is not a deal-breaker… we all have made mistakes in the past that we’re not proud of, so the best you can do is learn from it and move on. On the up side, he only has one more month of the breathalizer, so until then, I’d prefer to avoid having him drive again… so we’ll be walking, taxi-ing, Uber-ing, or I’ll be the chauffeur. D, the DD… that has a nice ring to it.