We had enjoyed a wonderful dinner and a couple whiskey drinks during a show. Now we found ourselves standing on Melrose with our arms wrapped around each other. That’s when she said it… “You look so seattle but feel so LA.”
I had to pause… I’ve heard that somewhere before. Oh yeah… “did you just use a Fall Out Boy lyric on me?”
She looked shocked… “uh… yeah… it kind of just fell out of my mouth.” She was embarrassed. “I mean you do though… your hardcore 90s grunge but an LA body.”
I giggled… “I’m still mourning the loss of Kurt.” I said giving her a light kiss. “You’re adorable.”
Honestly I didn’t know what to think. She was dressed to the nines in heels, sexy black dress, and full best hair and makeup. I wasn’t expecting her to drop a Fall out Boy lyric in my lap. Yet it was comforting. She spoke my language of music lyrics. That’s rare to find in 30 something feminine form.
The valet pulled up with her white Mercedes… it was time to part ways. We have since had many conversations using only song lyrics… and I’m still not sure how I feel about it. I did agree to a second date though.
Being that I’m in my mid 30’s and finding myself single again I’m once again in the hell filled dating pool of L.A. Dating in your 30s is like dumpster diving for dinner… yet you’re part of the dumpster trash too. We are all the scraps… most of us trying to get over heart break while we fight through the rivers of hell to give it one more chance at the behest of our friends.
Let me make something clear… I never want to be in a serious relationship ever again. I have joined the ranks of women who have found joy in being single. Why date then? It’s simple… my friends in relationships make me and it usually involves food. I’m always down for food… or whiskey.
Daily I get calls or texts telling me they found someone I need to meet. That they are perfect for me. I politely remind them I really don’t want to date. They send me a picture… usually a headshot… of a 30 or 40 something blonde woman (sooooo many blondes in Hollywood… even the latinos are going blonde… thankfully I’m over my aversion to blondes… except Latino blondes) or metro guy (probably actually gay) they worked with on a show or met through a friend. Something in my heart twitches with some and for some reason I agree to an evening out with a stranger.
We exchange headshots… look at each others Instagram… talk on the phone once or twice… then we make plans to meet. This is when anxiety takes hold. It’s the same anxiety that grips me once an audition pops up or I agree to stage time.
Do I shave my legs? (Don’t give me that shit that a ladies legs are always shaved… I can guarantee at least half of you turn into furry beasts) Do I wear make up? Is my hair going to cooperate? (Probably not… let’s be honest). What the hell do I wear?! Bra or no bra?! Is there enough time to go get waxed?The 3 hours before I leave the house are either spent running around like crazy or giving in to the inevitable betrayal of life and laying in bed watching the clock like a countdown to my execution.
Finally it’s time… I always arrive first. I’m always on time since I’m from the east coast and being LA everyone else is late. I sit. I have no qualms about ordering a drink so I do. Eventually they show up. We do the awkward stand up, shake, hug thing. Neither of us looks like our headshots and they never look like their filtered Instagram photos. That’s just the way life goes.
We eat awkwardly. It’s Hollywood though so usually we just push food around our plates as we suck down white wine. I mean… when your on a diet there are priorities to your caloric intake.
Conversation is made. They are usually working on some big movie, tv show or project. Then there’s me… uh I took an oxy and sat at Disneyland harassing some entertainers I know… but I do some stand up and writing to keep from killing myself (I don’t say the killing myself part… that’s CLEARLY 3rd date material). Then I have to explain both my chronic illness, my bizzare circle of Disney friends and why I see so many cover bands in dive bars. I also have to promise not to use them for stand up or writing material… oops. I feel like I should have a disclaimer or something. Eventually the conversation moves on from my bombshells into something more pleasant.
The uneaten food is packaged to go (we both know it will either be tossed or eaten by room mates while we devote more calories to booze). It’s time to say good bye. It’s awkward hug and kiss time. It’s awkward walk to the valet time. It’s awkward make plans for a second date time. I usually tell them I need to check my schedule… then wait till the 3rd text or call to make another date. Not playing hard to get. I just hate dating that much. Eventually I end up back in my car texting something cynical and depressive to a best friend (okay there’s the occasional “holy hell I love her/him” but that’s only till we get to the 3rd date… then it’s back to flipping tables).
I would rather sit on a friend’s sofa drinking wine and talking shit on the world than go out with someone I don’t know. On that note I will probably never get asked out again… that’s fine. Dating is one casket I would love to seal.
I’m told I’m just still angry over my shitty marriage… that I’m in a mourning stage. Honestly I just really enjoy being single after my disastrous marriage. I’m happy with my close friendships and if I want sex I don’t have to deal with a relationship for that. (Sorry mom) I’m an adult and it’s 2017. That’s another blog post though, lol.
So into the fires of what is the LA dating pool. Stay tuned for my adventures in dating.