Lady of Los Angeles

Love

Cupid is fickle and totally confused me.

Let me begin by saying I haven't posted because I've had NOTHING to write about.  I honestly hadn't kissed before last week since Zac Efron boy (see below post).  It's not that I've been rejected or been ignored- I HAVENT EVEN MET ANYONE who is even halfway appealing.  But I am writing today to recount a blind date I had last week.  My coworker approached me about a boy her roommate worked with.  He wasn't on facebook or myspace, but I was shown a photo.   Former drummer, has a job, my age, cute- I'm in!

He calls, we have witty banter, and then a date is set a few days later.  He insists on picking me up and taking me out to dinner (I had suggested drinks).  He pulls up in his beat up old man car (he is 26 and just moved to LA, I was/am not in judgement at all of this, just trying to paint the tableau) and whisks me away to Cat and the Fiddle.  Conversation is a little awkward at first ( we are obviously both nervous), but this soon gives way to an easy banter and I'm finding myself entranced by his Boston brogue and kind demeanor.  The beer doth flow once we are seated as does the stories.  By now, I am looking him squarely in the face and finding myself more and more attracted.  Topics range from music to family to marriage to religion to politics!  Oh my! So much to discuss and now nothing feels stilted.  We are singing songs at our table.  He's consuming beer like there is no tomorrow (or like he's not driving), but he assures me that he is of hard-drinking Boston blood and this is no biggie for him.  After 4 hours of sitting down (yes! four hours!), I had drunken three beers and he had FIVE!!!!!!!!!  I get up to go, and as I'm instructing him to head towards my house, he asks if I would be interested in another drink at another bar.  well, yes, OF COURSE I reply.  He's cute and funny and awesome and IS INTERESTED!??????? sacre bleu!! A decent man in LA!!?!!!!!!! have i FOUND HIM?  Of course, I tell myself to calm down.  We proceed to the next bar (molly malone's) and he downs two more.  Conversation gets more profound and more flirtatious (but not in a sexual way, but like in a cute wholesome way. Im actually proud of myself for not getting too sexual in my chatting, something I tend to do when I get nervous).  He takes me home and I instruct him to drop me off a block away from my actual door (he knows I live with my mom, he really didn't seem to care). He then takes care to open my door for me and our hug goodbye turns into a fiery kiss complete with him groping me, and me feeling his boner on my leg.  He got a little too gropey for my taste for a first kiss but HEY, i was into him, so I didn't mind.

I told him I was going out of town for a few days and he should call me. 

I go out of town for a few days.  come back to work today and what does my coworker tell me? WHAT DOES SHE TELL ME? that he "didn't feel a spark."  to which i responded "i guess a boner isnt a spark."  

The taste of rejection is bitter on my tongue.  but my overall reaction to this was confusion.  Why suggest a second location on the date? Why push me up against the side of the car and grope me? Why call the whole thing off after one date? How did I not sense his reticence.  Sadly, I am left with no answers, but only the overwhemling feeling that I really don't know much about anything. 

However, as I always say, ONWARD AND UPWARD!!!

Zac_efron

Now, in the interest of my reader(s?) and my promise to write about the REAL trials and tribulations of my datingesque experiences, I have to post the following tale of last weekend.

One of my co-workers had her younger sister visiting LA for the weekend.  The little bird was turning 18 years old and wanted to celebrate in glamorous Angelino-style.  Where does that take one?  CLUB. BANG.

Some of you may know of this 7070 Hollywood Blvd location if you grew up in this town.  It's an 18+ dance club (with a full bar on hand for us older folk).  I got there a bit early with my other friend via taxi because it was raining and we knew we'd have to get waste house in order to get through of a night of partying with a younger set.  And younger set it was! While waiting in line, there was a group of baby chicklet marine boys.  So skinny! So young! Already killing people!  I was not drunk at this point and gave them the evil eye so they wouldn't talk to us.

Club opens, friends arrive, drinks begin flowing, and I start to really get my dance on (there are three dance rooms in Bang- Brit Pop/Indie, 80s/90s, and Pop/Mashup/hiphop). 18 year old younger sister looks at me and swoons in the most earnest voice possible: you are SUCH a good dancer. Me: thanks babe!!

More drinks flow.  Smoking patio: I see two adorable chaps. One looks like Zac Efron...with braces.  The other is a blond version of him.  They are both in spiffy junior hipster outfits.  They quickly approach and ask me if I would buy them CORONAS because they were wee lads of 20.  awwwwww. I told them to slip me a twenty and i'd see what I could do.  Beer purchase and pass off goes smoothly.  They shower me and my friends with flowery compliments such as "i like your top" and "you could totally be younger than 24."  As the night wore on and we reconnected with these boys, I found myself drawn into Zac Efron with Braces more and more. His pure sweet charms and pretty delicate features intrigued me.  The night ended in him pleading for me to come back to his hotel room (oh yes, he was an electrician visiting from Bakersfield, did i mention that? 100% class).  Anyway, I gave him a goodnight kiss as a consolation prize.  I haven't kissed someone with braces since....9th grade!   He asked for my number and I gave it to him. He sweetly texted later "next time I come to town, can we go out someplace?"

Immeadiately I thought "no", but maybe in the name of "dating science" I just might.  He did look an AWFUL lot like Zac Efron.  I mean, if you into that sort of thing, which im..errr, not. or maybe i am?

Anamnesis

My lovely friends decided to cement their relationship by getting married last weekend.  Of course, I was there to mingle and drink!  I was introduced to an older, hipster bartender who raised his sleaze eye in my direction. oy! (and yes, it was a jewish wedding so i can say that).  There was also a lil' scrawny thang who like the puppy dog he was, kept poking his head in my direction.

Needless to say, things got funny.   A group discussion began about "nice guys" versus "assholes."  Scrawny Pup boy kept slopping around         "I'm not a nice guy....oh but I am :( woe is me". Hipster Sleaze was all "naw man, I may be 45 and never married, but you gotta be a dick, I'm a bad boy" (then looks at me, like im supposed to be impressed).  The awkward competition for my attention with these two reached some heights, ending in Scrawny Pup "accidentally" spilling his entire glass of champagne down my dress.   Also hysterical was Scrawny Pup brought a platonic girl friend with him to the wedding who seemed to be draped over him.  I initially thought that it was his girlfriend for when scrawny pup made some comment about "dying alone", i raised my eyebrow and motioned to the lady clinging to him.  She quickly responded "oh we're just bff [best friends forever]."  Yet, throughout the rest of the night, she gave me the i-keep-my-friends-close-and-my-enemies-closer eye.  She also berated Scrawny Pup for hitting on me IN FRONT OF ME, saying "Ooooo, you just wanna impress Omitofo soooo badly, doncha Scrawny Pup?"

The night ended with Non-girlfriend, Scrawny Pup, Hipster Sleaze and I standing in front of the party-house.  Scrawny Pup squeaked "I think we should exchange information" to which i responded- "well, all y'all are on facebook!? I'll be adding you!"

I love how facebook makes things so much less awkward.

As for the wedding ceremony.  I feel I should say these jaded cold eyes of mine did almost produce some salinated water molecules when the couple read each other their own vows.  It wasn't really want they said, but how they said it.  You could tell they were very much in love.  It seemed sacred that I got to witness their birth of their family.

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So I'll just give a rundown of my cRaZy Saturday night of three parties all over town.

Party Numba One- Sister's Tasteful Cocktail Gathering

Location: My sister's Tasteful West Hollywood Apartment

I have to hand it to my sister and her husband.  When they throw a gathering, there may not be many people there- but there is a GREAT selection of fun mixed drinks (vodka lime sour! grapefuit cocktail! all fresh squeezed juices), and so many assorted food options.  She had pate, cheeses, meats, veggies, dips, jelly belly beans, mini-cookies and quiches.  It's Martha Stewart time! in a GREAT way.  It was total couples time, but it was a nice way to kick off the evening among a refined early 30s crowd).  My coworker of the evening T-bone and I, left that soiree at 9:30.

Party Numba Two: My coworker's friend's bday

Location: Seven Grand Downtown

I had never been to this bar, known for it's extensive whiskey selection, but I'd heard good things.  However, I don't like to wait in long lines, especially for a BAR, which isn't a CLUB.  When we did get inside after 20 minutes, the place was waaay too packed and loud to have a proper conversation, making the party a total bust.  It's okay to not be able to talk if you are on the dancefloor, but not when you are waiting to get a drink/just standing around. Even the smoking patio was uncomfortably crowded. We left after one drink

Party Numba Three: Pickup Artist Friend's Bday

Location: House in Los Feliz

Yayayya! now THIS was a fun situation.  I knew all the guys there, so it was great catching up with my friends.  Plus a gang of pickup artists will always be lively and attract some fun people.  There was enough people for a populated soiree, but enough room to spread out and talk.  I immeadiately embarassed myself.  I met my friend's friend who's a model/actor and for some bizarre reason I thought he was British (i heard what I heard).  ANYWAY, told people outside he was British, only to have to explain myself to actual Non-British model guy inside.  Oh Omitofo, the situations you get yourself into!   My coworker had a blast too, because the PUAs all kept her entertained.  I myself indulged in a little bit too much Haiwaiian punch and vodka.  I flirted recklessly with the non-british blond model even though I'm typically not into models or blonds. 

Kendra

So my second week of improv was a bit tedious: they had us doing pantomime bullshit that made me remember why I gave up drama in high school ("imagine you are holding a toothbrush, feel the weight of it, put it in your mouth"), but there were some fun class dynamics going on.  You may remember the attention grabbing blond from last week! She was BACK IN ACTION, but this time, she had competition!  Another "hawt youngin' blond" joined the class this week! Dueling blonds!  You could totally catch a subtle competition going on betwixt the two for who was sexier/more coveted. They were both in full effect for pantomime gametime.  The object in one exercise was pretending you had a  "laptop".  Blond Number Two was the first up, and she pretended to look at porn and then get caught! Then Blond Number ONE, totally not missing a beat, pretended to be webcaming with a boyfriend, which apparently includes full body touching and sexed up moves on the floor.  Needless to say, the brunette writing this was very amused. 

Oh blonds.

Otherwise, class was frightfully dull.  Some guy from the writing class tried chatting me up at our 15 minute break, full handshake "my name is Noah" included, but he was so half-assed about it I wasn't impressed. I'm hoping things get more interesting once the scene acting starts.  I have to miss class this Saturday because of a wedding, but I will be reporting back in two weeks. 

I had the priviledge of attending a soiree Saturday night with a coworker (I have many female, single coworkers).

It was a mixed blessing party for two girls because we show up and it's 90% dudes.  While this sounds all fine and good, things can get a bit weird because there was a wolf-pack vibe.  I found myself surrounded by 3 or 4 dudes at once.  The attention was fun, don't get me wrong, but the balance just seemed off.  Also, I had a nagging insecurity looming in the back of my brain: are they talking to me because they are enjoying my company or am I just the only girl here?  Then once I did get into an intense conversation with one guy, it felt almost performance-like because there were some other dudes just standing there listening in.  Um, go create your own party! Why are you listening to us?

The guy I was talking to, let's call him Shorty with a Beard, was all fun and political.  I love when people get heated about politics- I always tend to take the Other side for the point of debate.  Sitting there and just agreeing with someone on everything gets awfully tedious.  Shorty with a Beard did get on my nerves because he started name-dropping Hollywood people.  I'm not really a stickler about name dropping, but I prefer to hear stars/actors names and then HEAR A STORY ABOUT IT.  If you talk about knowing James Spader or some character actor from Six Feet Under....umm....I wanna know if James is flirty sexy in real life still, or if Alan Ball is really annoying.  Just throwing a name out there is kind of a conversation stopper- because I DONT like asking the follow-up "uhh, so what are they like?"  and since I don't want to ask that as a follow-up, I'm left standing there.  This is a very LA-specific situation.  So, Shorty with a Beard chats my ear off for a couple hours, and then my friend wants to leave so we do.  Does Shorty ask for my number? No, but he casually mentions that i should come to karaoke the following night at some dive bar. Really? Really.  I had a guy friend there that night and I asked him the next day "what was the deal with that guy? why didn't he ask for my number?" My guy friend was like "ehhh, I saw the two of you, you were vibing, but he pussed out"

I guess, no- i KNOW I don't want to go out with a guy who doesn't have the balls to ask for my number, but it got me thinking.  What's so scary about asking a girl for her number? the WORST that can happen is....she says "No." But come on dudes, if a girl spends longer than 10 minutes talking to you, she enjoys your company.

So, for a cheaper form of therapy, I signed up for an improv class.

I was a little dissapointed when i found myself in a room with 10 relatively normal looking/sounding people.  where were the crazies like me? Well, there was one guy who was a little twitchy, around 40, crazy died blond hair, and shifty eyes (his name is Gary, so... yeah!! and yes, i have weird prejudices! we all do.... but I really live on Planet Krazy!).  So everyone besides Gary seemed excruciatingly normal, but then once the games got going- a little bit of the wacky came out.  I think my favorite surprise was the "hot girl" in the class who was skinny, blond, big lips,  and age 19- the typical male fantasy.   Every time it was her turn to improv, girl busts out an over-the-top joke involving scrodum, penis size or poop.  My analytical wheels were spinning overtime. 

Anyway- everyone else seemed verifiably frightened/embarassed/shy in the beginning (my usually extroverted-self included), and it was really nice to see the development and bonding of the group.  By the end of our first 3 hours together doing activities, there was a nice ensemble/sharing/caring feeling evoked.  We ALL realized that we're in this together and no one is better than the other.   I'm really looking forward to evolution of the group since this will be lasting seven weeks.   I'm sure I will have some interesting stories to report back to you, the unkown reader.

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 Everyone has expectations about dating.  My coworker has a first date this weekend and she SO EXCITED.  I've totally been there.  We all have.  You meet someone that's cute - they call you. you call them. plans are made, OMFG!, etc).  But sometimes I think our expectations blindside us. You find yourself ignoring things that don't fit into your fantasies (and believe me, my fantasyland is more like a fantasyworld with an eclectic cast of very specific characters like Giuseppe the british-born italian-speaking musician financial whiz-kid and heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Naples). 

With Real Life People, especially in the early stages of courtship, you highlight the stuff you like and mentally run a red pen through the stuff you DONT like.  They claim girls are the more critical sex in the dating process, but I think that's a myth.  Guys are just as bad- they will just have sex more often and not call said girl-who-doesn't-fit.

A recent example of my ignoring-the-bad was a very attractive body-building Marine I met at a bar in Hollywood.  He was so lovely and unique (a half-blooded Navejo! looked like Mario Lopez!  Philosophy major!), that I ignored the MARINE aspect of him in our intial conversations.  I scolded myself, thinking "everything you've seen on HBO's Generation Kill miniseries is a total exageration, calm the fuck down".  Anyway- stated boy, we'll calm him Wild Horse, took the train down from Santa Barbara to go on a daytime walk-around downtown date with me.  We had a lovely time, but the looming thought of "HAS HE KILLED PEOPLE?" lingered in the back of my mind. I crossed it out, and we continued our discussion of movies (which he knew little of).  Hours (and a couple drinks) into this epic long date the discussion of his time in the service came up.  He said it was "every citizen's duty to give back to the country that raised them."  I kind of flinched, because the"killing people in another country giving back to the US" argument did not make logical sense.  Furthermore my EXPECTATION was that because he was Navejo, he was going to be like in touch with his inner desert animal and totally be "peaceful."  So, I ignored what he said and continued the discussion.  I asked where he was stationed in Iraq, and he replied really casually "oh we just kicked people out of their homes and stayed there."  A few minutes later he mentioned the large number of bar fights he'd been in.  I kind of wanted to criticize him on this front, but I quieted myself.   Wild Horse had been a perfect gentleman all day.  We ended our date with a very tasteful goodnight kiss but ultimately I bid him "adieu."  I had this idea running through my head before our date that because he was a philosophy major, that somehow made him kind and "deep."  This was obviously not the case.  He was perfectly nice to me, but I couldn't make him into some intelligent philosopher.

What I learned: don't have any expectations for a first date, or assume that someone's pedigree will influence their personality and/or compatibility.

Let's Dance to Joy Division

The Wombats

I love/hate going to a house party where I know absolutely no one but the host.  The good thing to do in this situation is to come prepared with girlfriends.   That way, no matter how awful the situation could be, you can have your own party in a corner!  Although that is not ideal.  A better situation is that you all meet fun fabulous new people.

This exact situation presented itself to me last weekend.  A guy friend I studied abroad with in Europe invited me to a party in the lovely suburban enclave that is deep Van Nuys.  He is a "drummer" in a "band" and I knew there would be some hottie musicians types there.  I brought two single lady coworkers with me.  We show up and I immeadiately had a visceral college flashback.  There is not one, not two, but THREE beer pong tables set up.  The crowd I can only describe as "surf hipster" which is to say tight pants, bleach blond hair, but with a distinct vintage flair.  Oh, and indie rock music playing in the background.

I am in jeans and cute Anthro top.  My coworkers are prepped out.  We do not really fit in.....but we pretend to!  Standing huddled in a mass, we dart inside and outside looking for my friend the host.  He greets me with smiles, but promptly abandons us.  I spy the tallest, cutest guy in the kitchen.  My pickup strategy of geographical placement kicks in and I immeadiately position myself within his eye sight.  Smiles are exchanged. NICE.  I eventually get into a convo with the host when he is standing next to my tallie (pronounced Tahl-eeee, as in "tall guy").  Tallie and i have great banter.  I look over at my coworkers standing huddled next to me.  Introductions are made but they quickly recede.   A game of cat-and-mouse proceeds with my Tallie and I throughout the rest of the evening.  He leaves convo, but then follows me outside to talk.  Then he rolls off and then i follow him. THE BACK AND FORTH. i love love love this game.  but it can't go on forever. Eventually I ask if he ever leaves the valley.  phone is whipped out. he gets my number.

He texts me while im driving home. Sweet? actually no.  because a text exchange of "are you getting home okay?" turns into a "where do you live?" text. not so subtle.   If I'm DRIVING home (which he knew), I'm not drunk enough for a late same night booty call.   This party went down Saturday and it's Tuesday. He could call, but frankly, I'm not losing sleep.

Anyway- I think party politics are funny-  because there is an fake facade of "oh- it's all casual playing beer pong listening to music", but really- both guys and girls are checking each other out and paranoid-i-ly wondering whether to approach or not.  Especially at a big house party like this. 

Even_cowgirls_get_the_blues[1]

I bother all my friends with my ridiculous tales- so on the suggestion of a certain red headed Kiwi, I decided to start this blog that would give me a chance to really flesh them out.  Most of you reading this right now must know me, but for those that don't I will give them the general breakdown:

1) I'm a 24 year old single 3rd generation Angelino (Angelino for your east coasters means someone who lives in LA)

2) I have a low paying entertainment job (for now!) and I live with my darling single mother in our fabulous apartment in the city

3) I love going out with my various lady friends who are day, night, twilight and dawn in terms personality and expression

3) I mingle with a certain set of Pickup Artists, who provide me with much insight and fun times as well as frustration

4) I love to sing. in my car. all the time.

That's pretty much all you need to know about me.