Dating in LA

And he lives right down the street. Seriously.

My friend who cuts my hair offered him up since he and I are both buying houses right now. She tells me he’s tall, cute and mountain bikes. That’s all I get. But she likes him. So he’s no crazy psycho. And bonus points for no fresh divorce, so no ex-wife. Yay!!!

When he called last night for the interview, turns out he lives 2 blocks down and we’re both in advertising. He seems funny and pretty fab. And she was right, he’s very cute. I looked him up on facebook. But if he were to read this, then hell no…that’s creepy. I didn’t even think of looking him up.

I have a date with an actor.

I know, I know. Most women in LA have a strict “I don’t do actors” policy. But this one was so charming and great looking in an older-distinguished-sexy-dad kinda way. And maybe some actors are just normal working guys, it’s possible.

What if he was only acting charming? Well then he can act. So maybe he works too.

For just one date I’d be happy if he acted like an amusing guy with a together life and no need to cry or complain on my shoulder.

So finding love is a numbers game, my mom was right. This guys story gives me and my girlfriends hope and scares us at the same time.

His 13 year marriage ended and he hopped online to date the same month. Red flag for me, but some women don’t mind. I prefer a guy who’s been alone just a few minutes. And ya know, is actually divorced.

But he was determined, and dated 50 women in 18 months. Some he just met once. And some he saw a few times. Exhausting huh. But for this couple it did work out. For me, only 41 more to go.

Here’s his story and a photo from the NY times:
 
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/05/fashion/05generationb.html?_r=1/

My girlfriends liked BB, well maybe the idea of him. He was smart, with a great career and seemed to have his shit together.

Then after two dates with him last month, I realized there was no chemistry between us. Or fun, our humor just didn’t connect. I was funny, he was not. He was amused and having a good time, I was waiting to laugh. The conversations just never took off, they felt forced.

So if we’re only going to be friends like I offered, I sure don’t feel right about him paying next time. And then it hit me, I don’t even want to spend one dollar or 5 minutes with him. Hey, I’m saving for a house so I’m kinda careful with my money. I’m bored and uncomfortable around him. I can stay home and feel that way for free.

The best things about these cards, you can make your own. This one I wrote about T.M. after our date last week. He’ll never see this so it’s ok. I really tried to like him. Until his details came spilling out in the weirdest ways, like he just needed to talk about her. Nice guy, too freshly divorced.

Oh goodie. My next blind date has a real career. As a therapist. Yikes. Dating someone that knows crazy so well, he’s even trained in it? Won’t he be constantly one-upping me on all things mental? One step ahead of me at every unfiltered yet charming thing that flies outta my mouth?

But wait. He works with kids. So he’s gotta be patient and caring. And surely he’ll know how to handle an unruly adult.

But wait. Is he gonna want to crawl into my head and figure me out? Will he know what I’m really thinking before I do. And worse, will he want to therapize me? Talking in that calm, soothing voice, reassuring me that he knows best. Ick. Unless I’m paying you, that can not happen.

My always helpful J.C. agrees, she thinks it could be like dating a gyno. He’s been there a thousand times before and seen everyone elses, how can I possibly compete? My own brand of crazy may not even be all that special anymore. And who needs that.

Too late, a girlfriend already gave the poor guy my number. Then actually told him how not so excited I am to meet him if he’s gonna be analyzing my every move. Sounds promising!

Nicknames are a lot more fun than real names.

The super nice guy I met last month and went on 2 dates with only to realize I just wanted to be friends became Mr Flowers. He sent me flowers that’s why. So the nicknames are efficient for chatting with friends. His name was Jeff. A fine name, but Who? It tells us nothing about who he was. Mr Flowers sounds nice, just like he is.

There was Lobster Claws, a first date that tried to win me over by saying “I was married 20 years, but the last 10 were miserable.” Then tried to grab my face and smooch me in front of the Shoe Pavilion. I think a handshake would have been plenty.

And let’s not forget Mr Magoo. I actually liked him a lot. Even after he ran out of gas two times in 4 months. Then asked to borrow money. Couldn’t remember anything. He even forgot that he wasn’t really divorced.

Oh and Fingernails was a good name. Funny guy with weird shaped nails. Great on paper. Weird in real life. He was fun to talk about, everyone just liked saying the name “Fingernails.”

Hey, it’s not just me, my guy friend likes nicknames too. His last bad date was “Stripper tits” I will just have to take his word on that.

Maybe it’s the water. Or the botox. But some of the guys I’ve met lately, grown-ups, men my age, seem to be stuck in some weird career twilight zone. And sure, LA is a place open for reinventing yourself, trying new things and expanding horizons. That’s part of what made me want to move here twelve years ago.

But I have a real job, that I even like, so my man should too. Is that crazy to want a partner who works and might make a dollar more than me? And of course it’s about more than just money. I ain’t gonna be nobodies life coach. At what age are some of these bumblers gonna get it together? I went to college in Austin surrounded by some of the cutest, poorest musicians there were. It was charming in our twenties. But WAKE-UP scruffies, you’re not 25, or even 35 anymore.

I call it being underemployed, and it’s like pot. It’s just so fucking high school.

Last weeks dreamer said he was “in the music industry.” Guess what he actually did for a living? He gave private guitar lessons to kids. Drives around and teaches rich kids music. But it’s working out since he makes some great connections with their parents, because he really wants to compose or produce. Don’t we all. I’m sorry, I’m just not attracted to that guy. When he called for a second date I was honest and said I felt there wasn’t any chemistry. He actually challenged me and asked if I had ever had it on a very first date. Well YES you sad little misrepresenter I have. But I was trying to be polite. I really wanted to tell him, I just don’t see myself naked on top of you, EVER.

Here are just a few of the LA embellishments I’ve heard lately:

“I produce tv” meant I was responsible for that reality piece of shit called Armed And Famous but I haven’t worked since.

“I’m into photography” also means I had a camera as a kid and used it once.

“I’m an actor” well, I think we all know what that means. And I just don’t make enough to support both of us until he lands a gig.

“I develop real estate” is secret code for I paint houses.

“I just released a CD” means I just released a CD, now I’m exhausted and need a break.

And now I’m exhausted and need a break. But only until my next date, a good story I’m sure.

I might never date again. After the last couple scares, I realize it would be easier if I could only give up all expectations. You know the ones like manners, a job, and acting like you’re from this planet.

My last fix-up by friends seemed great at first. Until he laughed. I was thinking ok, maybe I just won’t ever say anything funny so I won’t have to hear that screechy howl of his. But then he laughed at nothing, it came out of nowhere. Like he was hearing something funny in his crazy little head.

When we walked into the bar he went in crazy head first, and the door sorta hit me in the face. Hey, it wasn’t only me surprised, a couple walking out looked on in horror. I felt embarrassed. That I was having drinks with this idiot and would have to kill my friends soon. He flagged down the waiter with a big country wave and yell across the lobby. But there just aren’t enough martinis to make stories of childhood skin disease interesting. So an hour of fake smiling later, I was exhausted and looking for the nearest exit.

Happy to make it out alive with only the awkward parking lot goodbye to go, I was relieved. Until he leaned in several feet and tried to smooch me. Like any smart dater, I used my purse as defense and held it up like a shield. We hugged, purse and all and I scurried off.

I’m usually flattered when my friends think of setting me up with someone. One of my best relationships started that way. So send your great single guy friends to me…I just have a brief mental competency test for them first.

Once upon a time I had a date with the guy that created Thirtysomething. The genius behind some of my all time favorite shows – I cried when that went off the air – thinks I’m funny. He was almost 20 years older than me, I was too flattered to notice.

Forget love, I wanted to talk about his work.

He was polite, but surely disappointed. I was silly and talkative. I was wearing jeans from the Gap, hoping my cute hair might do the rest. There were lots of good stories from him and yes yes yes, I let him know how much his shows meant to me. I even (insert gasp of shame here) mentioned a specific episode of My So Called Life that I practically knew by heart. He gave lots of credit to his great writer Winnie, who he said had a vivid imagination and a way with details. HELLO Mister TV Man. That’s me.

The audition wasn’t going well. In the back of my mind I hoped he would want me, for a job. But no, he didn’t even want me for a second drink.