I admit it… I’ve been slacking on my posts. So much has been going on. In the last 2 weeks I lost 2 of my great aunts. Both of them lived long fulfilling lives but most of all they lived life on their own terms. And with the recent death of Paul Walker it has me thinking a lot about life and making sure we live it to the fullest and on our own terms. Lately I have been making it a point to enjoy life and every single moment we have here on earth. This isn’t a dress rehearsal this is the real thing. My biggest fear is waking up at the age of 60 and realizing I have let life pass me by. I will NOT let that happen. Okay I already digressed…
This is the time of year where there are birthday parties, holiday parties, and just the overall theme of getting together with friends. Because I have FOMO (fear of missing out) I usually attend everything regardless of how my body feels. Most people cannot go at the pace I go. But like I said, this isn’t a dress rehearsal this is the real thing. Not to mention, whenever people ask me how I meet the various guys I go out with, you’ll never hear me say, “He magically appeared at my house.” Why? Because you have to get out there and meet folks. The other weekend was one of those crazy weekends. One of my girlfriends was celebrating her birthday and the crew went out to Kiss N Grind. I know the name sounds real suspect. But Kiss N Grind is a party in LA that is usually once every 2 months where you go to dance and sweat. It’s not the typical Hollywood party where people are standing around trying to be cute. You put on your comfortable dance shoes and you just dance your cares away. In addition to the numerous glasses of Champagne I consumed that night and all the dancing. I partied like I was 21 again and the next morning I woke up with a massive hangover, swollen feet, and my mascara smeared all over my face. Funny thing is no matter how drunk I am I always manage to wrap my hair in my scarf. And another side note: what is it about champagne that makes me get so damn drunk and hung-over? I spent that day recuperating from the hangover. This encompassed starting the day off with a greasy turkey burger and fat fries from Fatburger and going to get my nails done and drinking what seemed to be gallons of water all day. I hadn’t been this hung-over in a long time. Lesson learned… I am no longer 21 I am a woman in my mid 30’s!
I finally felt like I was 85% to normalcy and head out to another girlfriend’s surprise party that evening. It was at a cool spot and very low key. While on the dance floor my friend’s husband grabbed a guy from the side and pulled him on the dance floor to dance with me. It was a pleasant surprise. He was tall, handsome, and he seemed real cool. We danced all night and talked. “Larry” walked me out to my car and even called me later on that evening. We talked on the phone until 1 in the morning. When I woke up the next morning I was greeted by a nice text message from “Larry.”
It was great meeting you. I look forward to hanging out with you again soon.
“Larry” was off to a nice start. When he called me later on that evening we made plans to go to Perch in Downtown LA the next evening. I loved that spot. It had great views of Downtown LA. He showed up looking good. We ordered a nice Bordeaux and proceeded to get to know each other. “Larry” was raised in…. Carson, CA. What the fuck?! Why did I keep meeting men from Carson? I tried not to pre-judge him based on my ex, and the last 3 guys I went out with from Carson. I really was practicing being open to endless possibilities. My inner loving devastated coaching me, Okay Monique, there must be a reason why you keep meeting men who are from Carson. God is trying to teach you something. BE open and for the love of God don’t roll your eyes!
As we continued to converse I discovered “Larry” sold car insurance and he was 49 years old! Oh boy! I was batting a thousand. I like dating older men but “Larry” was turning 50 in 3 months! And “Larry” had never been married, engaged, or in a long term relationship, and had no kids. When a man is 43+ and fits this criteria he already get side eye but when a man is almost half a century old and fits this criteria I’m looking at him like, “What the fuck is your deal?” As we sat there getting to know each other his phone started to vibrate.
Larry: I’m sorry this is my landlord. Let me get this real quick.
Did this motherfucker say landlord?! Was I really out with a man who was almost 50, never been married, and had no kids who didn’t own his own place. Now before you start judging me let me just say this. I get that LA is expensive. I’m not expecting a single man to live in a mansion. Also, when a man has been married and divorced with kids and is paying child support and alimony I can completely understand him having financial issues. But this man was almost 50 damn years old. What the hell was he doing? But again, I realized I was jumping ahead and quite frankly I Was being a judgmental bitch. Hell, I didn’t own my condo. This man was really nice and I had to tell myself to have several seats. We ended up having another glass of wine on the rooftop checking out the view and then “Larry” looked me in my eyes with the utmost sincerity.
Larry: I’m worried I am not going to live up to your expectations.
ME: What do you mean?
Larry: You seem like the type that’s used to dating big time corporate executives, doctors, lawyers, or athletes. I’m just worried I’m not going to measure up.
Me: I have in the past. But you’re college educated man. You’re no slouch.
Larry: I know. I just want to make sure I can be on the level you’re used to.
That was honest. Had I been so jaded and put myself in such a box when it came to dating that perhaps I was being too regimented? I decided right then and there that I would really be open and give this brotha a chance. So far he had been cool and very attentive. I wasn’t going to downplay the red flags but I wasn’t going to put on my running shoes yet and scratch him off the list.
“Larry” walked me to my car. He gave me a respectable kiss and he made plans to take me out again two nights later….
To Be Continued…
Disclaimer: If you are a man who is born and raised in Carson, CA or anywhere close to that area. Please do NOT read this post. You will be offended…
It was nice to have a little break and have a little bit of consistency with one person. But then again, a part of me missed the excitement and the newness of meeting someone new. I am keenly aware this is only because the last person really wasn’t the right person. I must believe that when it’s right it’s right. If I’ve said it once I have said it time and time again. I get so tired of TV shows, movies, books, etc. making it seem like it is so hard for a black woman to meet a man and go on a damn date. That is absolute bullshit. And some Simpletons are actually buying into that foolishness. STOP! Going on dates is the easy part. Meeting your soul mate, well that’s a different story. If you’re willing to be patient and have faith along the journey you will meet the right man. All in due time. Anyway, I am already digressing.
I was set up on a set up last weekend. My close girlfriend and her fiance were having a fight party at their house. When I arrived at their home and they let me through the gates I noticed a beautiful Range Rover sitting in their drive way. When my friend and her husband both came out to greet me I was excited for my friend. I assumed in addition to the massive diamond engagement ring her fiance got her, and the beautiful new home that reminded me of a resort they just moved into he had also bought her a brand new shiny white range rover with cream navy trimmed seats and wood paneling.
Me: Bitch!!! I see you got a new car!
Girlfriend: No that’s not mine, it’s your man’s.
Me: My what?
Girlfriend’s Fiance: I have someone I want you to meet inside.
Me: Oh boy! He better not be a fool.
Girlfriend’s Fiance: Now let me be clear. I just met him recently. But he seems like a cool guy. Let’s see what happens.
Girlfriend: Exactly. No pressure.
That’s all part of being single, the match making attempts by your well meaning friends. And I didn’t mind. It’s always nice for a man to come with references. I remember them mentioning him a few weeks ago. “Jerold” was a 46 year old, divorced sports agent. He was married for 15 years and had two kids. According to my girlfriend’s fiance he was looking to get married again and he was definitely interested in having more kids. After the last guy I dated I realized if I was going to date a man in his 40’s who had children of a certain age. I needed to know upfront if he was open to having kids. Just a side note for any man who is being nosy and reading my blog, if you do not want to have any more kids or if there is a shadow of a doubt that you want to have kids. Then you do not get the luxury of dating a woman who is younger than you who does not have any children. It’s downright selfish and ignorant. Seriously, you get to have your family and you have the audacity to think that you can convince a woman who does not have children not to have kids of her own? Have several seats! There I go digressing again!
They figured meeting him at their fight party would be less pressure that I straight up blind date. This way I could see him in his environment and observe him from a distance. Now that was a great idea. When you’re meeting a guy on a blind set up there are a few thoughts that cross a woman’s mind.
1- I hope this man is somewhat attractive.
2- I hope he speaks in complete sentences.
3- I hope this man isn’t a fool.
4- I hope I haven’t already met this man before and turned his ass down.
These thoughts crossed my mind as I walked into my girlfriend’s massive beautiful home. I sat down the wine and sweet potato pies I baked in the kitchen. I looked up and there was “Jerold.” He was about 5’10, stocky (luckily he didn’t have a massive gut), with a low fade. His nails were a little too buffed out. I would prefer that a man’s manicure not look like he had on clear nail polish (that’s just a shallow side note). My girlfriend’s fiancée introduced us. He smiled and it revealed silver braces. He had on a nice button down lavender shirt, with “diamond” cuff links and his full name (first and last name) monogrammed on the cuffs of the shirt, snake skin loafers, and jeans. I put my hand out to shake his hand. “Jerold” pulled me towards him and gave me a big hug.
Jerold: I don’t do handshakes. I’m a hugger.
As he hugged me he buried his nose in my neck.
Jerold: You smell good. What kind of perfume is that?
I told him. (I’m not revealing my secret perfume so a bunch of people start walking around smelling like me :-)). He saw my sweet potato pies and his eyes lit up.
Jerold: Did you make these?
Me: I did, from scratch.
Jerold: Your man must love your cooking.
I attempted not to roll my eyes at the sheer corniness. And he had a big smile on his face which exposed his mouth full of braces again. Has he never heard of Invisilign?! But my inner loving diva kicked in, Don’t be a bitch. He’s just trying to break the ice. Besides you always said you want a man that is well groomed. At least he’s trying to get his teeth fixed. I took a deep calming breath and decided to be open minded.
Me: Well, I’m actually single.
Jerold: I guess today is my luck day.
I just smiled. When the guys left the kitchen I told my girlfriend to pour me a glass of wine IMMEDIATELY. Sometimes a slight buzz can make any situation better. Actually I think that is always the case! I grabbed a plate of food and made my way into the living room where the two other couples were sitting and chowed down. Of course they set it up where I had to sit next to “Jerold.” So I decided to make the best of the situation. “Jerold” was born and raised in… Carson. YUCK! That was a complete turn off. My ex was from there. And had I nothing good to say about that area. It’s essentially two traffic lights from Compton. And generally speaking people who are from there think that they aren’t from the hood because it’s not Compton. But when you’re spitting distance from the hood, well, you’re from the hood. I damn near broke out in hives when he said that. But I was trying to be open. My inner loving diva chimed in, “Not all people from Carson are ignorant, close minded, fronting wannabes like your ex… Breathe.” I also looked over at my girlfriend who knew me so well and she winked and tilted her glass of wine as a signalfor me to have a sip and relax. Then “Jerold” informed us that Monday was his birthday.
Me: That’s exciting, what do you have planned?
Jerold: Originally I was supposed to be in Europe.
ME: Oh really which part?
Jerold: I was starting off in Paris and then heading over to London.
Me: Two of my favorite cities. I used to live in London.
Jerold: Which part?
Me: Camden Town. When are you leaving?
Jerold: The trip got postponed to the end of next week.
Me: So what are you going to do for your birthday now that you’ll be on town?
Jerold: I don’t know yet where would you like me to take you?
Me: You’re going to take ME out for YOUR birthday? That’s very nice of you.
Jerold: We should go to Nobu in Malibu.
Alright now, things were looking up! I could over look a railroad on someone’s teeth and over the top “diamond” cuff links for a man with good taste in restaurants. Braces eventually come off and I can tweak the hell out of a wardrobe!
Jerold: Let me call my driver so I can make arrangements for us to get picked up.
Jerold then took out his phone and proceeded to dial his driver right then and there on SPEAKERPHONE!
Jerold: My man, what’s up?
Driver: Who’s calling?
Jerold: It’s me, Jerold.
Driver: How can I help you?
Jerold: It’s my birthday on Monday and I’m gonna need two pickups.
Driver: Okay, just send me the details. It will be an extra charge for the additional pick ups.
Jerold: Have you ever had a problem with payment?
Jerold: You just said there was gonna be an extra charge. You know my money is riiiiight. I got you covered.
The driver hung up. And I sat there so turned off. Was I supposed to be impressed? Did he not realize I used a car service on the regular basis? And to make the call on speaker phone? Really? Typical LA guy. Typical fronting Carson guy! But I didn’t want to generalize. The fight was over and as usual when it is a group of men and women the conversation quickly turned to relationships. My girlfriend’s fiance was one of those men who enjoyed deep grown and sexy conversations. “Jerold” started talking about his divorce.
Jerold: My divorce cost my over $1M. My problem is I have a tendency to pick women who are like projects.
I swear my head spinned around in a complete 360 full turn like the fucking Exorcist.
Me: What do you mean by projects?
Jerold: You know what I mean. Women who don’t really know what they want in life. I help them find their potential. With the young lady I dated recently she wanted to start a clothing line so I helped her out. She just needed someone to recognize her potential and go from there.
Me: Well, what if a woman doesn’t need your help and she has her own shit. Then what?
Jerold: Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I’m looking for a woman who needs to be guided. At this point I want a woman who has her own shit together. I’m like show me a credit report. If her shit ain’t on point I’m not taking it on.
Then my girlfriend’s fiance piped in.
Girlfriend’s Fiance: Wait a minute my man. You’re kind of contradicting yourself.
Jerold: How so?
Girlfriends Fiance In one breath you’re saying you have a tendency to take on projects to help a woman find their potential. But right before that you said if a woman’s credit isn’t together you wouldn’t deal with her at all? That doesn’t make sense. If you love someone you are going to try to help them reach their full potential my man.
Jerold: No that’s not what I meant. I’m just saying I’m all about helping someone reach their potential. I just don’t want to be in a situation where they don’t have shit and I’m doing ll the work.
That’s the thing about having these healthy debates with other men. They will ask the questions you want to know and check someone n a heartbeat if they aren’t making sense. I got to sit back and listen to what this fool had to say. My girlfriend’s fiance was like a brother and he knew exactly what he was doing. He was gathering information for me! I love when my friends marry men who have some damn sense!!!! We talked for a few more hours about relationships and life. “Jerold” was contradicting himself left and right. The night was coming to an end I was helping my girlfriend clear up the kitchen.
Girlfriend: What did you think? And before you answer, let me be clear, we don’t really know him too well. My honey just met him a few weeks ago and you know he got all excited when he found out he was single. He’s ready for us to take trips together and do double dates!
Me: What was up with calling his driver on speaker phone? What the fuck was that?
Girlfriend: I know!
Me: See that’s that New Money shit that I can’t tolerate. AND he’s from Carson?!
Girlfriend: I know you wanted to die.
Me: You know I did. Last time I went out with someone from Carson, I discovered they changed the numbers on their Mercedes so instead of the numbers reading S430 which was already a nice car it said S500 just so he could front. Of course I found that out after I was already married to his dumb ass.
Girlfriend: I know! I know! But just be open. He was just trying to impress you. You know the problem is a lot of these LA bitches are impressed by shit like that and men feel the need to keep doing that kind of shit thinking that it will impress all of us.
Me: Okay. I’m going to be open about this. We will see. Something just isn’t adding up. I can’t put my finger on it. But my antenna is definitely up.
My girlfriend and I had a good laugh and then of course the inevitable came. “Jerold” was heading out and asked for my phone number. Good Lawd. I reluctantly gave it to him. About an hour later he sent me a text.
Jerold: Hey MK! Great meeting you. Had a blast. Gotta pick up where we left off.
Me: Nice meeting you as well.
TO BE CONTINUED
Some of you are probably asking why in the world I would go out with a man who was unattractive and old. This was the first time in my life I was dating just to be dating. I spent my 20’s dating with one end goal in mind… To get married (and we already know how that ended up). So I wanted to date just for fun. I figured it was good practice for when I met a man I actually liked, I wouldn’t be dusty! “Jason” had a Saturday afternoon date all planned out. He gave me directions to his house in Venice Beach. Venice Beach can be a little tricky. There are places there that are absolutely stunning oceanfront homes. And then there are other places that are shy of being a crack house. It is literally those two extremes. The way, he described his tastes in art and furniture, I assumed he lived in one of those fabulous homes or condos on the beach or near the beach. After all this man was almost 50! You know what they say about ASS-U-ME-ing. As my navigation directed me to the Venice Beach area and had me make my final right onto the street and announced my destination was on the right hand side I just knew I had to wrong place. I checked the text message with the address one more time against my navigation system. The addresses matched. I was parked in front of an old ass building with chipped paint and bars on the windows. I looked to the right where there were dumpsters and there was a homeless man going through the garbage. He finally found a sandwich, began eating it, and walked off. Oh shit!!! There was no way I was about to park Freedom (the name for my convertible Audi) anywhere near this place. I called “Jason” to let him know I had arrived. I was hoping and praying he had accidentally given me the wrong address.
Me: Hey Jason. I think I’m here. Are you sure you gave me the right address?
Jason: Yeah. I’m on my way. I’ll be there in 5 minutes. You can park in the back of my building in space 5.
Me: Um… Are you sure my car is safe here?
Jason: (laughing) Of course! You’re fine.
Me: Okay, because I have a convertible. I don’t want anyone to rip the top off and try to steal it.
Jason: No you’re fine. My car is the silver BMW. Just park behind my car. I’ll see you in a second.
Alright, so he has a BMW. So I figured my car would be safe. I drove to the back of the building and looked for parking spot #5. I saw an old BMW parked there. When I say old, I mean old. The shit had to be from 1982. AND it was propped up where it appeared to be missing the front passenger wheel. What the fuck?! Just as I was about to put my car in reverse and get the fuck out of there, I saw a man riding a bike in my direction. I squinted my eyes and saw it was “Jason.” This fool was wearing some Sear Sucker shorts, a white button up shirt, a bow tie, and a straw hat. This bitch looked like Bojangles!
Jason: Hey there. Where are you going? You can park here.
Me: I was about to… Ummmm…
Jason: Come on up for a drink. I also wanted you to see the Dali painting I was telling you about. I had an interior decorator come and do my spot. Come check it out.
Me: You’re sure my car is okay?
Jason: What’s up with you and this damn car? I already told you, you’re fine! Come on, I have a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc chilling in the freezer.
Well at least this fool knew how to make my ass stay. Besides the traffic on the 405 was like a fucking parking lot. I had driven all the way up here, the least I could do was stay for a cocktail. I followed him up the steps to his spot. And he was describing all the detail that went into decorating. I figured, maybe this was one of those buildings that looked like shit from the outside but inside it was really nice. I tell ya I can be such a judgmental bitch at times. Anyway I digressed… We got to his front door and he opened it up. “Ta-da!” I stepped into the smallest apartment I had ever seen. It was smaller than a studio apartment although it was a one bedroom. The walls were covered in art, I’ll give him that. It’s was decorated very tastefully, I’ll give him that. But that shit was so damn small. This man was about to be 50 and this place would have been acceptable for any man in his 20’s but this made no damn sense. He walked me over to a sketching he had on his wall.
Jason: This is the Dali I was telling you about.
I walked up as close as I could. My nose was probably less than an inch away from the frame. My first inclination was to scream, “Either you’re a stupid ass and got, got. Or you think I’m a stupid as that can get, get!” There was no way on God’s green earth that was an authentic Salvador Dali piece. If this dumb ass could afford a piece of that type of artwork he certainly wouldn’t be living in this shoe box he called a home! But I decided to be nice and go along with the act. So we sat down on his couch and had a glass of wine.
Jason: I wanted to give you a present.
Me: Really? You don’t have to.
Jason: No I insist. I really appreciate you giving a brotha a chance and not letting age get in the way.
Me: As long as you’re up front with me we are all good.
Jason reached over and picked up the large 3 wick candle that was sitting on his coffee table.
Jason: I figured this would be nice and relaxing for you. It has a nice settle scent.
I started cracking up. Seriously, he was too funny.
Me: Jason, you are a fool! You crack me up!
Jason: What’s so funny?
Me: You pretending to give me an already used candle as a gift. That was a good one!
Jason: No I’m serious. I only used it once.
That’s when I realized he was dead ass serious. I was expecting Ashton Kutcher to jump out of his back room and the camera crew to hop out from wherever they were hiding. This really couldn’t be happening. When 30 seconds went by it settled I wasn’t on a non-celebrity episode of Punked!
ME: Thanks! Why don’t I just set it down here until I leave?
I had no intention of bringing that shitty candle home. Just as I slammed back my glass of wine. There was a car passing by with loud music. You know when a car is blasting its music so damn loud you can feel the vibrations in your house. It was that loud. I figured it would pass by but it sounded like it was getting louder and louder. “Jason” jumped up. “Our ride is here. My boy has his own cab and I knew we would be drinking so he’s giving us a ride to the restaurant.” He opened his front door I walked out and there was a cab waiting for us outside blasting gangster rap! “Jason” introduced us. I reluctantly got into the cab. As we passed various cars, the drivers and/or passengers looked over at the cab with disgust and rolled up their windows. With each mile we drove I sank lower and lower into the back seat hoping I would not be seen.
Jason: I remember you mentioned you like Oysters; I’m taking you to a spot in Santa Monica that you’ll love. Then we’ll walk down the street to the spot where I work.
Me: I thought you were a writer?
Jason: Well, yeah I do that too. But sometimes I… Uh… help out my friend at his bar and I’ll bartend if he’s shorthanded.
I gave him major side eye. I was no dummy. This asshole wasn’t a damn writer. He was a damn bartender. Now it made sense why his ass knew all the bartenders around LA. Typically when you are a waiter or bartender you know other waiters and bartenders and hang out and hook people up with free drinks! Oh my goodness. We pulled up to the elegant spot, loud music blasting. I hopped out of the taxi so fast and practically sprinted into the restaurant. I was hoping no one saw me and associated me with this foolery. Of course when “Jason” came in the first thing he did was say hello to the bartender before we were escorted to our table in the small packed restaurant. When we sat down the bartender sent us over a bottle of Rose. “Jason” was one of those men who liked to strike up conversation with people he didn’t know. The restaurant was small and packed so it was almost like a community table. “Jason’s” loud ass began to strike up conversation with a group of young ladies who were sitting at the table next to us. After he ordered our food a huge sampler plate of various seafood came to the table of the ladies sitting next to us. “Jason’s” bug eyes got even bigger as the waiter placed the tower on their table.
Jason: What’s that?
Lady at Table Next to Us: The seafood tower.
Jason: That looks real good. I might order that. Can I try some?
Lady at the Table Next To Us: Ummmm…. Uh…. Oooo-kay?
With that “Jason” grabbed his bread plate and proceeded to grab a few shrimp, crab legs, and oysters off the young ladies seafood tower and take some of the various sauces and pour a little on his plate. I wanted to die! I wanted to run out of the restaurant. Mortified doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt! He asked if I wanted some. I said no before he could even get the sentence out. There was a couple who was sitting at the table on the opposite side of us who observed this fiasco. They saw my face. I gave them a look of HELP ME!!! So the man tried to lighten the mood of the situation.
Gentleman: (to Jason) Your date is a very pretty woman. She’s a class act. You’re one lucky man!
Jason: Who her? She alright.
Gentleman’s Date: She seems wonderful!
Me: Thank you.
Jason: Naw. She’s just alright. (begins laughing)
That’s when I had officially had enough. Here I Was sitting across from a complete moroon and someone is giving me a compliment and all his ass could say was I’m ALRIGHT? With that I grabbed my purse and stood up.
Jason: Where are you going?
Me: I’m leaving.
I walked out the restaurant. And I forgot my fucking car was at his house. So I walked to the corner to see if I could hail a taxi. I didn’t see one in sight (this was before the Uber days). Shortly after Bojangles came out of the restaurant.
Jason: What’s wrong with you? We still have oysters coming.
Me: I’m done! How dare you just say I’m alright when someone compliments me? Who the fuck do you think you are?
Jason: You’re trippin’! I was just playing.
Me: The shit wasn’t funny and I don’t appreciate it.
Jason: (throwing his hands up in the air) Get the fuck outta here. You’ve been tripping all day with your bourgeois ass. Fine then go the fuck home! I don’t have time for this shit.
Me: Then bring your broke, wanna be Bojangles, 50 year old, living in a shack, waiter ass wanna be a writer ass back in the fucking restaurant. That’s what I get for associating with hired help!
Jason: Fuck you!
Me: Fuck you! I can’t believe I gave your ugly ass the time of day!
Jason: Fuck you!
I saw a taxi pulling up. Thank goodness. But I still had to have the last word because at that point I didn’t give a shit. As I grabbed the handle of the taxi to open the door I stuck him with my parting words hoping to cut him with my tongue.
Me: And by the way, give your son a call. On top of being an ugly ass broke fuck you seem to be shitty father too. Go fuck yourself and never ever call me again.
I hopped in that taxi so fast and prayed that he wasn’t going to try to reach in and grab me and kill me. I told the taxi to get me back to his address as soon as I could. I prayed that a) he hadn’t called someone to wait for me at his house to kill me or b) had someone vandalize my damn car. Why oh why can’t I learn how to just keep my mouth shut sometimes?! Why oh why do I always have to have the last word?! When we got to his house I had the taxi driver drive me to the back and wait for me until my car started and I was driving off. I even asked him to follow me until I got to the freeway. Thank God the driver was so accommodating.
I made it safely back to my home. I called at least 5 of my girlfriends and told them what happened. The reactions were all the same. What?! No way…. You gotta to be kidding me… what a stupid ass… I am so glad you are okay and weren’t hurt… And the conclusion that all of them came up with was… You gotta write a book about your dates!
The next morning I woke up. I was still in a state of rejuvenation since the Maui trip despite that little speed bump from the night before. I went in my mediation room and did my usual journaling, praying and meditation and sat in silence for a few minutes. And suddenly I began to have a flashback of that date, which was by far the worse date in the history of my 30+ years on this earth. I flashed back to all of the other dates I had been on in the last year, and in my 20’s. I flashed back to me and my girlfriends meeting up for drinks later on to discuss all the dates. The laughter, the disappointments, the lessons, the horrors, and it hit me… These stories must be shared if for nothing else pure entertainment or life lessons. I even thought back to the journey life had taken me on through my marriage and ultimately the divorce. I realized I could use my stories and hopefully help others through their journey and let them know they were not alone. And with that I began this blog and Confessions of a Serial Dater in LA was delivered….
I decided to bring you a 2 Part blog. Sometimes I just can’t get a story out in one post. Enjoy…
Since I launched this blog in January I have been asked quite a few times, “What made you start this blog?!” I ignore the times when people ask me this question with a look of horror and judgment. I secretly give them the finger and stick my tongue out at them like a child. But for the folks who genuinely are curious I tell them the story of my worse date ever…
In July of 2012 I decided to take a trip by myself to Maui. I was having an Eat, Pray, Love moment. I needed to get out of LA and just breathe. My divorce had just become final in January of that year. I felt like I never took the time to be by myself and just reflect on the last few years of my life. As you know, I spend a majority of my time travelling for my job. And one of the perks of all that travel is collecting hotel points and airline points. I booked my flight from LAX to Hawaii which cost me a total of $2.50. And then I booked my hotel, which cost me a total of $50. I only told one person where I was going just in case something happened. I left on a Thursday and tuned myself off to the outside world. My phone was off, I didn’t watch TV, and I didn’t speak to any family or friends for a total of 5 days. My mornings were spent in heavy mediation and journaling, my days were spent lounging by the pool having cocktails, and my nights were spent taking myself out to dinners. Needless to say, by the time I returned to the stratosphere, I felt renewed, rejuvenated, and healed. It was closure to the difficult chapter of my life. And I finally felt at peace and okay.
So I celebrated my renewal by meeting my girlfriends at Chaya Venice to tell them about the trip. Chaya Venice has one of the best happy hours in LA. It is always packed. While socializing with my girlfriends a gentleman walked in and asked if the seat next to me was taken. I was in a good mood so I decided to be “witty.” “It’s taken… but I will give you the privilege of sitting there.” He laughed at my humor and asked me what I was drinking. He knew the bartender well. And then he did what all single men should always do when they offer to buy a woman a drink and her girlfriends are standing there, he offered to buy them a drink as well (please note, this only applies to groups of 3 or less…. I’m not expecting you to buy drinks for a party of 10). “Jason” was a TV writer. He was originally from New York. “Jason” was NOT attractive at all. As a matter of fact the angle of his seat made it difficult to really get a sense of his looks. (Or maybe it was the fact I had a few too many cocktails since I had a designated driver that night). So I leaned over to my girl friend and asked her, ”Is he cute? I can’t tell.” Her response was to discreetly take her knife and point it in the direction of her half eaten steak skewer that was smothered in A1 sauce and say, “He looks similar to this.” My friends are just as ignorant as I am. And this is why I love them! We are all WIPs (works in progress). But as I had a few more cocktails his not so stellar looks were over shadowed by his sense of style. He had an east coast NYC vibe to him which exuded confidence. We talked about the show he was working on, jazz, art. It was a great convo. At the end of the evening when he was about to leave, I didn’t notice we had spent the last 2 hours just talking. I forgot my friends were even sitting there. He asked me for my number before he left. I was definitely not attracted to this guy physically. Most women who are of child bearing years will look at a man’s features and picture what their future children will look like. Usually when it comes to your future daughter you are even more selective about who you consider dating because if it turns into something and you marry the guy and have children, often times children get the features of the opposite sex parent. When he asked for my number, I looked at his features, his oversized nose, his too close together eyes, his soup cooler lips and imagined what he would look like as a little girl. My first thought was, “Hell no! Don’t give him the time of day. Run… Run… Think about your future children!” But then, with my newly rejuvenated fresh from Maui self, thought, I would go out with him. Not every relationship is meant for marriage. And I certainly would not risk mixing my good gene pool with anybody! I would never be serious with him. He would just be a guy I would hang out with for fun. If nothing else we could have a great friendship. Like men, women have two categories of men they date as well… The good time guy and the guy you take seriously. This man would certainly be the good time guy. With that, I gave him my number and quite frankly I could have cared less if he called me or not.
As fate would have it, he not only called me, but he sent me a text that evening, “It was great meeting you. I would love to finish our conversation over dinner. Are you free on Saturday? If so let’s meet at Luna Park at 8pm.” Even if I had planned on saying no, Luna Park was one of my favorite restaurants in LA. It was a spot that only true foodies knew about. They had great food, great drinks, and a hip east coast type atmosphere. I was actually impressed that he even knew about this spot.
So Saturday evening came and I was heading over to Luna Park. Of course I was running late (I really need to get better with that). I sent him a text message letting him know I was running 10 minutes behind. I had finally arrived at the valet at 8:10 on the dot. As I was getting out of my car I got a text message from “Jason.” I’m giving you another 5 minutes and then I’m bouncing. I have a 15 minute rule. Ummmm…. Huh? I walked into the restaurant and saw him at a corner booth. He was looking at his cell phone. I could see his not so great features from the light his cell phone gave off. My first reaction was to check him. But again, I was still in my Renewal Maui mode. When I got to the table he looked up from his phone.
Me: Ummmm…. Didn’t you get my text that I was running 10 minutes behind?
Jason: No I didn’t get it. I thought I was being stood up.
Me: One thing you need to know about me is I am a woman of my word. If I say I’m going to be somewhere I’m going to be there.
Jason: My bad. You look beautiful.
Flattery will get you everywhere in my book. The waiter came up to the table to get our orders and ironically he knew this waiter well too.
Me: Are you a food critic? You seem to know all the wait staff and bartenders wherever we go!
Jason: I just make it a point to know the people at the places I love to go.
I could appreciate that. They way a man treats the wait staff says a lot about who he is as a person. If he’s an asshole to a waiter, please know and believe he will be an asshole to you one day. From there the conversation ensued. Come to find out “Jason” had a 22 year old son who he hadn’t spoken to in over 2 years. When dating someone who has kids it is a very fine line in terms of the questions you should ask when you first start dating. But I was curious how a man goes without speaking to his son for 2 years. Seriously, you believe in treating wait staff with respect but you haven’t talked to your own damn son? But I didn’t want to be quick to judge.
Me: It must be hard to not speak to your son.
Jason: That little n**## pissed me off. He was staying with me and he didn’t know how to pick up after himself. Once I came home and caught his ass smoking weed in my house! When I told him that was unacceptable he went into this bullshit about how I wasn’t a father to him most of his life and I shouldn’t be telling him what to do. He said a bunch of other bullshit and I shipped his ass back to his mother’s house.
I know there had to be a bigger story to this. But I also knew I couldn’t cross the line.
Me: Do you think perhaps that was a cry for help?
Jason: Until he learns how to respect me I don’t have shit else to say to him.
I could tell he was getting very tense and his breathing was accelerated. So I changed the subject and kept it on neutral topics. And we got on the topic of art.
Jason: I’m into art. As a matter of fact I have an original Dali at my house.
Me: Bullshit! There’s no way in hell you have an original Salvador Dali piece of art work at your house.
Jason: No bullshit. I’m a collector. I invest my money in art.
I could appreciate he loved art and invested in it. However, Dali has the most forgeries of any living artist. If it is an original with a low number you could have a piece worth a couple thousand dollars, if not than not much. It’s not like he had the fucking Mona Lisa hanging up in his house. I was intrigued. The rest of the date was pretty chill. I made it a point to keep off the topic of his son, although it was certainly a red flag. But I could have cared less given the fact that I wasn’t trying to marry this guy. We went out a few days later and he took me to TH Little Door. And it was the same vibe. He knew the bartender very well. We had a bottle of Rose and dessert and it was cool. I appreciated how this man knew how to court. Then we got on the topic of upcoming birthday in a month.
Me: What are doing for your birthday?
Jason: I’m not sure yet. I’ll probably take a trip somewhere. Since this is a big one?
Me: A big one? Wait a minute… how old are you turning?
Jason: I don’t like to disclose my age.
Me: I thought you were 47.
Jason: No that’s what you guessed, I just didn’t correct you.
Me: So if your next birthday is a big one, then you must be turning 45.
Jason: No close… I’m turning 50.
Record screech to a halt! 50?! If you’re a regular reader of my blog, you know I like and appreciate older men. But 50? That’s was too damn old. 50 is also known as 10 years away from needing to take a pill to keep it up. And in 10 years, I will be in the middle of my sexual peek and have no intention of trying to entertain a wet noodle unless it’s in my pasta! I’m just saying. 46 is my max. That is 10 years older than me. 50? Oh no! That’s just not my speed.
Me: I had no idea you were 50.
Jason: What can I say? I work out.
Me: Why didn’t you correct me then?
Jason: Age is just a number.
Me: So now we’re quoting Aaliyah?
Jason: We just had a cool vibe.
We finished up our bottle of Rose. But again, I wasn’t trying to have a relationship with this man. I was enjoying hanging out with him and having great dinners. He walked me out to valet.
Jason: You’re awfully quiet.
Me: I’m just in deep thought.
Jason: Come on. Don’t let a few years between us get in the way. I’m enjoying my time with you.
Me: I just don’t like that you weren’t honest when we first met.
Jason: Mea culpa. That’s on me. Let me take you out on Saturday. I’ll make it up to you.
I had two choices. I could a) run for the hills. I wasn’t physically attracted to this man and the relationship wasn’t going anywhere or b) let him take me out to another great spot in LA. At the rate I was going I could be a food critic. I chose the latter. And that’s when the craziness ensued….
TO BE CONTINUED….
Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter can be the single gals enemy. I can’t tell you how many times I can already be in a little bit of a vulnerable state and I log onto my Facebook account and there is a new engagement announcement, wedding picture, baby bump shot, or pictures of perfectly smiling families with their 2.5 kids standing in front of their huge house with the white picket fences dressed alike smiling for the holiday cards. And don’t get me wrong, I am sooooo not a hater. I am happy for my friends. I enjoy seeing my childhood friends as adults with their adorable kids and handsome husbands. But if you are in a little bit of a slump you can look at these pictures and think, “Will that ever happen for me? When will I be able to change my Facebook status from non-existent to Engaged, and married? When will I be able to post pictures of my kids and my husband? Why? Why hasn’t it happened? When is it going to happen?” I’m just being all the way honest. Most single women have had that thought; they just might not be honest enough to admit it. The same rings true for some of my co-workers. You walk into their offices and see pictures of them with their families lounging at a resort pool on vacation. Then you walk into my office and there is just… paperwork. And I am okay with that, but sometimes it can be a little discouraging.
A few weeks ago a friend of mine invited me with her to a barbeque in Manhattan Beach. Manhattan Beach happens to be one of my favorite beach spots in LA. Venice Beach is full of a bunch of derelicts and is dirty. Santa Monica Beach is too commercialized, Malibu is just too dam annoying to get to when it’s nice out, the PCH can be a bitch to drive through. Manhattan Beach just has a great flavor and it is not too ignorantly crowded. So of course I went with her to the BBQ. When we arrived to the location we pulled up to a beautiful white house with oversized windows. Did I mention this house was on oceanfront property? It was essentially my dream home. It’s not often I am in awe. Living in LA I have had the privilege of seeing a lot of beautiful homes in Bel Air, Beverly Hills, Malibu, Pacific Palisades, Calabasas. But there is something so spectacular about a Manhattan Beach Oceanfront property. We parked the car and proceeded to walk into the home. The furniture was spectacular. All white and there was an oceanfront view from every single window. We made our way to the pool side and were greeted with a glass of champagne. It wasn’t a large crowd. It was a very intimate setting . There were probably about 30 people there. And everyone was friendly. It wasn’t the young Hollywood scantily clad group of skanks. As we walked in I took a second to take in the magnificent view of the Pacific Ocean and sip on my champagne. I took a deep breath and exhaled. Now this was definitely a great way to kick off the summer. I looked around and was excited to see my co-worker’s husband sitting down on the couch bopping his head to the music having a beer. It’s always great running into someone you somewhat know at a party. I made my way to go say hello to him and greet him.
Me: Hey there “Derek” what a small world!
Derek looked up at me and he looked like a deer in headlights.
Derek: Heeeeey… what’s going on?
Me: Not much. This spot is beautiful! Is “Linda” here?
At this point Derek came close to me and whispered.
Derek: I’m not here. You don’t see me.
Derek: You don’t see me. I’m serious.
At this point another woman came up to “Derek” and put her arm around him and handed him another beer. She stood there waiting on him to introduce me. Derek introduced us and I stood there in complete and utter shock. It was times like this I appreciated my degree in theatre. I was able to quickly pull it together.
Me: I need to head to the ladies room.
Derek: Follow me this way.
“Derek” showed me to the ladies room. He actually took me to another area of the house. As we walked down the hallway, I noticed pictures of “Derek” and some of his clients. He was in the music industry and hung out with the likes of Lady Gaga, Usher, etc. He was a big time executive. As we walked to the rest room it became clear this spot was “Derek’s.”
Me: Uh… Derek… what’s going on?
Derek: This is just my other office.
ME: Your other office?
Derek: Yeah. We entertain clients here. It’s more cost efficient.
Me: I see….
Derek: But seriously, I need you to keep this between me and you. YOU- DID-NOT-SEE-ME!!! “Linda” wouldn’t understand.
Me: It’s really none of my business I don’t plan on saying anything to her. But I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit. She is an executive. She would certainly understand.
Derek: I don’t think so. Look around, she wouldn’t be cool with me hanging out here without her.
Me: Like I said, this is none of my business. I don’t plan on saying shit.
Derek: Thanks. I appreciate it.
I inhaled my champagne and went back out to the pool and immediately got another one. Unfortunately I didn’t drive so I was stuck there. How in the fuck was I going to stay at this barbecue looking at my co-worker’s husband and his jump off at his house that he brings his side chicks? I literally was looking at his wife’s Facebook page just the other day. She had just had their 3 child. They finally had a boy. I remember looking at their recent Christmas pictures thinking about what a perfect family they had. And to top it off they had finally had a boy. I looked at the life she displayed on Facebook and I have to be honest, a lot of times I found myself envious (not in the crazy psycho bitch kind of way). I was happy for her. But I would always wonder if I would be “fortunate” enough to have that kind of life. And now as I proceeded to have my 3rdglass of champagne I looked at her husband sitting on the couch drinking a beer sitting next to his jump off. My girlfriend came up to me and asked if I was having a good time. I didn’t notice I was tuned out. I told her I was fine I just needed a glass of water. I made up a bullshit excuse that I drank my champagne too fast and needed to get something to eat.
I was still extremely bothered by what I had just experienced. I was more bothered than I thought I would be. I got to thinking about reality versus the images we portray on social media. It made me question everything. Luckily for me, when I was married it was right when Facebook had just became popular in my group of friends. Luckily I didn’t have a Facebook account and Instagram didn’t even exist. But if it did I am sure even in my unhappily married state, I would have posted pictures to portray the “perfect” life to the outside world. I began to wonder how many other people were living a lie on social media. How many people whose lives I envied up to this point were living in pure hell behind those smiling pictures they post on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter? Don’t get me wrong, I am fully aware there are some people who really are living the life they post. They really are happily married and in great relationships. But I had a feeling there were a lot more people than we realize who are hiding behind their fake lives. Who really are in miserable marriages and some that are even going through divorces but for whatever reason they are portraying their lives as being better than it really is and for what? Who are we living for? Why do we feel the need to show an unauthentic life to the public?
I made the conscious decision not to say a word to my co-worker. If this was one of my close friends it would be a different story. But I didn’t want to get involved. Besides, for all I knew she knows what a fool her husband is. Lots of times, the person who divulges the information to someone who isn’t mentally or emotionally ready to accept it ends up looking like the hater.
When I got home that evening I walked into my home and suddenly had a great appreciation for the life I was living. When I post a picture on Facebook or Instagram it is of my authentic life. I don’t have to pretend to living a life I am not. Granted I would love to be remarried and have my 2.5 children. But damn it, I would rather be living the life I am now and be happy and authentic than be creating a bullshit life. That night when I got in the bed I slept in the middle of the bed… because I can. I turned on the TV and blasted it and channel surfed through Bravo TV, Lifetime, Oxygen, and WE… because I could. I had finally gained such a great appreciation to living the single life. It’s better to be alone and happy than with someone and miserable and pretending. I could sleep well knowing that each and every single picture I posted, status update I made, and Instagram picture I put on the live feed was true to who I am and where I am in my life. And damn it felt good!
After spending the last few days considering a cross country move I decided to exhaust all possibilities here in LA. Like clockwork whenever I am seriously reconsidering living here the weather is extra sunny and the skies are extra clear. I tell ya, this city has a way of screwing with girls emotions. So I thought, maybe I will revisit someone from the past that I might not have given a chance. So I gave “Vince” a call. (refer to my very first post- https://confessionsofaserialdaterinla.com/2013/01/am-i-vain-or-just-deserving/). “Vince” was a cool guy I went out with a couple of time but due to his excessive girth (unfortunately on his waist) I wasn’t sure if I could date him because of my own vanity. But I figured I could put my vanity aside for the possibility of staying in LA. Besides I could help him lose weight. I could make it my personal mission to be his coach and his trainer in his very own The Biggest Loser. “Vince” was overjoyed to hear from me again.
Vince: I thought you forgot about me. You just kicked a brotha to the curb.
Me: I have been on the road. You know how that is. (I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I just wasn’t into him and I had kicked him to the curb. That would have been mean… right?)
Vince: Are you in town for a while.
Me: I am. How have you been?
Vince: I’ll be better if you let me take you out to dinner this week.
Me: You know I live to make you happy Vince! Where should we meet?
Vince: How about Boa?
Me: That works for me.
Vince: Thanks for giving a brotha another chance.
Me: Oh Vince, you are too much.
I hung up the phone and I thought. See, you were just being a vain bitch. You should have given this man a chance. So what if he is a little bigger than you typically like. He is going to adore you. Wednesday night came and I pulled up to Boa. I settled on a fairly casual outfit. To be honest, normally when I am excited about going out with someone I go all out. It takes a few hours of preparation. But since it was “Vince” I didn’t feel the need for all the usual pomp and circumstance so I wore a pair of dark jeans, I bright pink blazer and a pair of heels, with an oversized clutch (in honor of going out with my oversized man). When I walked into Boa “Vince” was sitting down at one of the couches at the bar checking emails on his phone. When he saw me his eyes lit up and he stood. Oh boy… he stood up. He looked like he gained a good 15 pounds more since the last time we went out. I went up to him and gave him a hug. I couldn’t wrap my arms around him. So I tried to focus on something good about him. Okay, he had on a very nice suit. It was obviously custom. I guess it had to be. If you are that large I doubt you can just go to a regular store and buy a suit. I had to once again tame down my inner diva. Give him a chance. He might look like Professor Klump but at least he knows how to court a woman. That’s what you said you were looking for. So bitch sit down and allow yourself to be courted!
We walked to the host stand and he told the young lady his name and she immediately sat us at one of the best tables in the restaurant. Okay, that’s what I’m talking about! Suddenly his extra girth wasn’t so unappealing. That’s not exactly true. But I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, fake it till you make it. I was attempting to test out that theory. He helped me with my chair. The waiter came to the table to take our drink orders.
Vince: I’ll have a cranberry juice with lime and she’ll have a glass of the Dog Point Sauvignon Blanc.
Me: Wow Vince I’m impressed.
Vince: I pay attention.
Vince and I caught up on our lives over the last 3 months. He recently renovated his home and had just returned from taking his kids to Hawaii for their spring break. The conversation was great and the wine was sensational. I was really enjoying my time with “Vince.” I was suddenly willing to overlook his arms resting on the top of his stomach when he crossed them and his rather thick unibrow (something I hadn’t noticed before). As a matter of fact when he crossed his arms over his large stomach I noticed a beautiful yet settle Rolex watch. Okay, this wasn’t too bad. I can overlook the unappealing qualities. The good is outweighing the bad (no pun intended). Then the waiter came to the table to prepare our table side Cesar salad. The waiter was mixing the salad. So I decided to start my Trainer position to help my man lose some eight. I’m sure he could appreciate it. So I subtly said to the waiter.
Me: Light on the cheese and dressing! Um… Please.
Vince: Oh no! Extra cheese and dressing. As a matter of fact please put extra dressing on the side.
Me: I do not like a lot of dressing on my salad.
Vince: (to the waiter) Listen to the person who is paying.
With that the waiter looked at me, shrugged, and overloaded cheese and dressing onto the salad. I ordered another glass of Sauvignon Blanc. This is why I always will work even if I end up married to a zillionaire. I never want to be in a situation where I am beholding to some man all because he holds the purse strings. Don’t get me wrong. I want to be taken care of and would welcome a man who is financial able to keep me in the lifestyle I am accustomed to. But I will always maintain my independence and have “Fuck you” money.
Vince: You always gotta be in control of shit. Just sit back and let me handle shit. I see I’m gonna have to get you in check!
Me: Uh.. excuse me?
Vince: Calm down I’m just playing.
Me: (laughing) Oh I know. You ain’t crazy!
Vince: But you ARE always trying to control shit.
Me: You’re right. I’m working on it.
Vince: We are going to have to figure out a way to get you to let me handle things.
Me: I’m open to suggestions.
I realized he was giving sexual innuendos. The idea of this man naked sent me into a panic. I took a long chug of my wine and tried to shake it off. I also concentrated on not throwing up in my mouth or on him for that matter. Maybe in his mind he thought since we were out on our 5th date he was going to go there.
Vince: You gotta to experience the GRP.
Me: What’s the GRP?
Vince: The Golden Rod of Power.
I literally choked on my wine. Perhaps my ears were still clogged from the flight I had taken last week.
Me: What’s the Golden Rod of Power?
Vince: (he slowed down his speech and enunciated each word like he was teaching me how to read) The Golden…Rod… of… Power.
Just when I was taking a sip of my Sauvignon Blanc it clicked. I figured out what the GRP really was. I literally spit my wine out.
Me: Are you talking about peeing on someone?
Vince: I don’t have to pee on you. It can be the other way around.
I was disgusted. I was mortified. And suddenly the beautiful coloring of the Sauvignon Blanc I was drinking had taken on a different meaning and I couldn’t stomach it.
ME: Have you lost your God damn mind?!
I didn’t realize my voice was raised until I noticed a couple at a table 3 down was looking at us. So I lowered my voice. I wasn’t trying to re-create a scene from The Real Housewives of Atlanta.
Vince: Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.
Me: I can’t believe you just said that shit. You need to save that for some bitch with low self esteem. How dare you?
Vince: Calm down, I was just playing.
Me: No you weren’t. You were dead ass serious. You were trying to feel me out to see if I was some type of nasty ass freak. Well I’m not. You’re absolutely repulsive.
Vince: Damn it’s like that?
Me: Yes it is you disgusting fat fuck. Good night. Good bye. And lose my number. Now go piss on that!
I threw my napkin down on the table and walked out. Thank goodness I didn’t waste a good outfit on this fool! Of course the valet was taking forever to bring my damn car around. I was hoping and praying my car would hurry up and come around. But that damn Murphy’s Law clearly has a bone to pick with me. And “Vince” walked out.
Vince: Look, I was just playing. Seriously I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take things too far.
It was hard for me to even look at him. What made this man think that I would want his diabetic, high cholesterol piss anywhere near my home let alone my body? Who the fuck does that type of nasty shit? He stood there, all 350 pounds of him. He now looked repulsive. And WHERE THE FUCK WAS MY DAMN CAR???!!!!
Me: Have I given off any type of vibe that I would think that was remotely funny?
Vince: I know, like I said I took things too far and I’m really sorry. Please let me make that up to you.
Me: I thought you were a different type of man. But clearly I was wrong. I’m not even interested in being friends with you. Have a nice life.
Vince: I understand and I hope you can one day accept my apology.
Luckily my car had finally made its away back from the valet. What in the hell was going on with these men? I met one who was a swinger, another one who suggested I wear knee pads, and now a fat fuck that was into Golden Showers? I know I am not putting out a vibe that I am remotely into that kind of shit. As I drove off I had to repeat my mantra…
Do not become bitter. All men are not alike. You have to kiss frogs to get to your prince.
Where in the hell was my prince?! Up to this point not only have I kissed multiple frogs, I even married a demon. How many more lessons, life experiences, and bad dates do I have to go on before I experience bliss? I even attempted to give Professor Klump a chance in an effort to stop being shallow and look where that got me. I have to continue to believe and have faith that the right man is out there. I guess these shitty experiences make it even more special when you finally find your prince. The key is remaining hopeful. The second you lose hope is the point in time where you do become bitter. I decided to make a right on Mulholland and pull over and take a moment to get out of my car and just take a second to stop. At times, you can find yourself on this never ending merry go round called “Life.” Sometimes you go round and round and it becomes monotonous. Lately that’s how I felt. The dating world can push you down, drag your through the mud, and leaving you feeling empty and alone. It’s at those moments when you just have to stop and get off the ride and catch you breath. I had finally reached that point. So I did just that. I stopped. I put my top down. And I sat in my car looking up at the stars. I looked at the brightest star and the thought suddenly occurred to me. Right now at this very moment, my soul mate could be looking at that same star wondering where I was. Praying for God to send me to him. What a refreshing thought! No matter how bad it got, I knew that he was out there looking for me and eventually we are going to find each other. But until then, I vowed I would no longer settle, second guess, and doubt what I need and deserve. I made the decision to continue to believe and have faith that he is coming soon. And what a lucky man he will be. That thought left me in a true Golden State…
The last few weeks had been pretty hectic. Between my business travel, my social life, and entertaining out of town family I was SPENT. I knew I was doing too much when I arrived at my hair salon to get my hair done only to discover my appointment was for the next day. Unfortunately my hairstylist couldn’t squeeze me in since he was doing a full head weave. So I decided to slow my ass down. Instead of going to every event and accepting an invite to every party I decided I would only go to one event that week. I made it a “ME” week. I traded my social gatherings for meditation and went to my chiropractor and acupuncturist and got myself centered. There was a party happening on Saturday and I figured I would be completely well rested and ready to get back on the social scene. I was also making an effort to give LA men a chance. I had written them off and indulged in dating men who didn’t live here. In my “research” I found that men outside of LA were more assertive. They knew how to date. They also knew how to court women. However, I was beginning to get a little weary of long distance relationships. I missed the unplanned dating. You know, when you call your boo and tell him you’re thinking about him and he can be at your place within 30 minutes. I missed the lazy unplanned Saturday’s of just lounging around doing nothing but cuddling in your man’s arms. And all this can be done in a long distance relationship but it is just so damn hard. I was still open to them. But I decided to be more open and stop writing off LA men. So off to the party I went. The weather was warming up. It was springtime in LA. Along with changing my LA dating perceptive I was making a point to stop wearing so much black. So I went with a bold and colorful outfit which made me feel like it was spring time the time of new beginnings new perspective, and new prospects. My girlfriend had also given me a heads up that the last time this guy had a party there were more men than women there. You couldn’t get any better than that. I valeted parked my car, walked into the party in my killer heels that had a maximum shelf life of 30 minutes before my feet swelled. (beauty is pain). I found my girls at the bar and give them the sisterly hugs and looked around. Okay, I must admit, there were more men than woman at this party. They were professional handsome men. There were also a lot of couples as well. But I chose to focus on the silver lining.
I headed to the bar to order a glass of wine. I caught the eye of a gentleman across the bar. He was definitely a cutie. So I gave him my mega million dollar smile. And tilted my head and gave him the, “I am interested. You are free to come and talk to me” look. He smiled back at me and made his way over from the other side of the bar. “David” was a 38 year old engineer originally from Chicago.
David: Did you just get here?
Me: I’ve been here for 15 minutes. It’s damn near impossible to get a drink around here. They obviously weren’t ready for this crowd and need more bartenders.
David: It took me 20 minutes to get my drink.
As I waited for the bartender to make her way over to me to get my drink order “David” and I did the usual small talk. You know, “Where are you from? What do you do? How long have you lived in LA?” Finally the bartender came over and I ordered my $12 glass of Sauvignon Blanc. When she came back with my wine and the bill I paused for a half a second to see what “David” was going to do. When I realized he wasn’t even going to pretend to offer to buy the damn drink. I watched him watch me reach into my purse and get out my credit card and pay for my own damn drink! Let me be very clear. I can pay for a $12 glass of wine. That’s not the point. However, when you’re speaking with a man and this is his first impression, it is obvious he is cheap and has no manners. Typically when I am out and about on the east coast this isn’t even a discussion. Not because I am some broke ass bitch looking for a man to buy my drink, but simply because of chivalry. I engaged in more small talk with “David” but was already turned off so politely excused myself before he even thought to ask for my number.
Me: It was nice meeting David. I’ll see you around.
With that I headed to the dance floor to meet my girlfriends and dance off the stress from the past couple of weeks. The dance floor was full of mostly women while the men just stood around watching. Now let me put this into perspective. This was a party in LA. The crème de la crème were present. You had doctors, lawyers, entertainment executives, actors, models, who all went out of their way to look good and party. And these men were just standing around watching instead of joining these beautiful women on the dance floor?! It was so ridiculous that even the DJ got on the mic and said, “You fellas need to get out here on the dance floor. There is nothing but beautiful women out here.” It was ridiculous!
I decided to freshen up in the bathroom. On my way there, I caught the eye of a handsome brotha. He had the tall handsome Rick Fox look. He smiled at me and I smiled at him. I said “Hello.” And he said “Hello” back to me. And then… nothing. Now let me be clear. I have no issue giving a man a signal that I am interested in him. I will flirt. I will smile. But one thing I will NOT do is pick up a man. Call me old fashioned but I believe the way you start a relationship dictates how the relationship will go. If I start the relationship off being the “man” and courting a “man” instead of the other way around that is how the relationship will go. If I smile, say hello, and give you an indication that I am interested. Well damn it you need to bring your black ass up to me and approach me the way a man should. It’s really not that damn difficult. And again, if I were anywhere else in the country I wouldn’t be having this conversation. My drinks would have been bought and I would have been turning men down! But in LA most men (not all) but most, do not know how to be the man. The caveat is men who are visiting LA or men who are not born and raised in LA and haven’t lived here long. Either way, I looked around the room and observed the scene. I left the party feeling slightly perplexed and called my girlfriend.
My close girlfriend had a theory about LAX. She believed there is a welcome course for men when they land called M.A.S.S. Men Are So Stupid. In this course men are welcomed into the city and debugged of any chivalry and sense they had from the city they came from. They are trained to be assholes who do not approach women, buy drinks, and court a woman they way they did before they landed. She believed this course typically took 3 months to complete and by month 3 these men were officially brainwashed into the LA Male way of thinking. This is why when you meet a man who is not born and raised here you have 3 months to snatch him up before the learning’s from M.A.S.S. take over.
When I left the party I called my girlfriend who was there with me.
Me: I just don’t get it. I am trying to give these LA men a chance but they really do not know how to step up to the plate.
Girlfriend: Girl, I know. I was thinking the same thing. I was talking to my girlfriend and she told me I will meet the one when I’m not looking.
Record screeched to a stop. For any married women reading this blog for the love of God stop telling your single girlfriends that! That’s absolute bullshit. All of us look when we are single. (the exception to this rule are friends who met their husbands in college. They have no idea of what it means to date as an adult and they actually believe that shit is true) For the other married friends we all know before you were married you were looking. You were disappointed if you went out to a party and thought you might meet some prospects and came home with nothing. You know how I know this… I was once married. So I have experience in both. The only time that bullshit theory applies is if your husband was a man who “grew” on you. The man who you weren’t initially attracted to but he ultimately won you over. But let’s be honest, we all look and telling your single friend that is downright condescending, obnoxious, and insensitive. So when you feel the need or get the urge to make that statement, do all of us single girls a favor and shut the fuck up! Sorry… I digressed. But I just had to get that off my chest. So me and my girlfriend continued our conversation.
Me: That’s bullshit and you and I both know it. I do not understand how none of our friends met anyone last night.
Girlfriend: The brothas just aren’t stepping up out here.
Me: I know. I was trying to give these LA guys a chance but it looks like I am going to have to stick with long distance dating.
Girlfriend: Import… Export.
We hung up the phone and I thought about it. Recently a few of my girlfriends have been in long distance relationships that have turned into engagements and marriages. Some have moved to be with their men and others have actually gotten the guy to move to LA which is a great situation. It’s a difficult dilemma. I love LA. I love the weather, my circle of friends, my career, and my lifestyle here. The only thing missing is love. The issue is never quantity it’s quality. Let’s be clear, I have never had an issue getting a date. If I wanted to, I could be out with a different man everyday of the week. But that shit gets old. And I acknowledge, after my separation and divorce I wasn’t really ready for a serious relationship. I have never been one of those women who go from one relationship to the next. I needed time to get my footing after the devastation of the divorce. But in the last year, I have been ready emotionally and mentally for a real relationship. And if I were at a party in NYC, Atlanta, Chicago, DC, Philadelphia I would have been turning down drinks. The dance floor would have been packed with brothas. And more importantly men APPROACH the women. This doesn’t mean they are men that we want to date either (I have friends who live in these other cities and say the men are just as ignorant) but at least they know how to walk across the damn room and ask a woman to a dance. Or ask what we would like to drink. What happened to the men in LA? Are the women so aggressive they don’t know how to approach us anymore? Do I need to consider moving to another state and giving up all the things I love about LA in order to find my soul mate? And blah… blah.. blah… I already know when it is right it is right it doesn’t matter where you are. But the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Do I stay in LA knowing that I keep getting the same results? Do I sacrifice the city I love for another city where I can fall in love?
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