Dating in LA is so much fun

Hello juicy burger patties!

I figured that you guys have SURELY missed hearing my successful dating stories. So why not start off with a fun, uplifting quote.

“Dating in LA is so much fun.” – Nobody

I try not to relapse. I really do. But, sometimes, I do. By relapse, of course, I mean sign onto online dating apps. I’m not sure why, because I have NEVER EVER had good experiences with them. Yesterday, for instance: This guy (who specified he was 6’6” in his profile, so soulmate material) told me that he had “standing karaoke nights” on Tuesdays and Thursdays that he simply cannot miss and that, should I want to get to know him better, I could come watch him sing.

Ummmmmmm, what? Come watch him sing? What kind of first date is that? How could that possibly be a good time? Did he think I would be so swooned by his voice while he sang something old school like Sweet Caroline just at the moment that I walked in and we would have one of those eyes-meet-across-the-room moment and experience love at first sight and regret everyday leading up that we hadn’t met? Okay now that I’ve typed it out that would be a killer first date story but IT WAS WEIRD OKAY.

Having said all this, on a particular tipsy weekday night while watching a particularly good Sex and the City episode, I often find myself opening up that yellow Bumble app or, if I’m feeling particularly frisky/lonesome, the red flame Tinder app. I don’t think I’m really looking for someone, as I never agree to actually meet, but rather I just need something to do with my hands. I mean, in that moment. I mean, swiping on the app. I mean, not with… You know what? Take the sentence as you will.

Instead, I’ve been committed to meeting guys the old fashioned way. Which, as we all know, is carried out in 4 simple steps:

  1. Plan a night out with your friends. Shaving your legs is optional, but encouraged during summer months.
  2. Go to a bar and spot some cutie from across the room.
  3. Stare at them and hope they approach. Then watch them leave.
  4. Wonder what’s wrong with the MALE POPULATION because didn’t he see your HAIRLESS LEGS they don’t just COME THIS WAY, BUDDY.

Of course sometimes you’ll do steps 5-8 where he’ll track you down Cinderella style because he somehow has your headband that you didn’t even wear that night and, when you realize it fits over your insanely large head (I have an abnormally large head to keep all my brains in), you fall in love and get married and live happily ever after. These last 3 steps I have yet to experience myself but I assume is how all those engaged Facebook couples started.

The other night I went out to Hollywood to celebrate my writing partner Michelle’s entrance in the world 24 years ago. I decided I would break the steps I just laid out and, instead, simply walk up to any guy I thought was cute and make my move. I do this sometimes: decide that I’m going to be bold and approach anyone I find attractive and start up conversations. And by “do this sometimes,” I do mean: I have 4 too many drinks, walk up to random strangers and say, “Heyyslkdjlakjcnoiuhk you’re cute HAS ANYONE SEEN MY PHONE I SWEAR I JUST HAD IT DID YOU TAKE IT OH MY GOD YOU’RE A THEIF I KNEW IT YOU HAVE A CRIMINAL FACE OH WHOOPS I’VE BEEN HOLDING IT THIS WHOLE TIME LET’S MAKE OUT.”

This particular guy that I had my eye on had tattoos all over, which was only adding to my need to bombard him. I’ve been in a guy-my-mom-will-never-approve-of phase. So I waltzed up to him, chatted him up, and… he actually turned out to be a pretty nice guy.

Of course I went down my usual rabbit hole of thoughts. This guy is so nice. We look great together. Our complexions really vibe. I wonder if he owns a dog. We’ll get a dog together. He’s probably a secret cat person. That’s why he’s so sensitive. I don’t actually know if he’s sensitive but I’m assuming and I assume I’m right about my assumptions.

Much later in the night, I learned the truth about this tattooed-probably-a-cat-guy guy.

He pulled out his phone to get my number when I noticed that he had a picture of himself as his background.

I’m all for self confidence, but this was a little much. It was a photo that was taken with PhotoBooth’s cartoon filter on a Mac computer. It also looked like it was taken inside an Apple store. So, using my lightning fast Nancy Drew skills, I concluded that this dude went into an Apple store by himself, parked at a display computer, shopped the filters, landed on the cartoon filter, threw up a peace sign, put on his sunglasses, took the photo, e-mailed it to himself, and then set it as his phone background. I know I’m being quick to judge. Maybe he had friends with him… That he pushed to the side for this photo.

I told him that his background was lame. He told me that he thought the cartoon filter was cool and that he liked it because he doesn’t do social media. But — he’s been thinking about getting on it for his baby boy.

For his… baby. boy.

Eeeeeeeeeh yeah I’m not really down to be an instant-step-mom anytime soon. I love my niece and nephew. I also love that they are not my children because I am still a child myself. I get irrationally upset when my 4-year-old niece takes a slobbery bite of my apple and ruins the whole thing for me. I consider Kraft macaroni and cheese a nice meal because it requires the stove. I take vitamins in gummy form because it’s just a nice feeling to have Fred Flintstone proud of you every morning.

I confirmed with him, “You have a baby?” And he responded with: “Well, I guess he’s not a baby anymore. My son’s 18.”

I wasn’t much of a math/science type of learner in school. I was much more of a recess/lunch kind of gal. But let’s say the youngest you could be to have a kid is 16, if his kid was 18, he would have to be 34 or older. Which isn’t insane. I’ve dated guys in their 30s. But it would mean that, in the best possible case scenario,  I was 10 years younger than him… and 6 years older than his kid. Logistically, it would make more sense for me to be his son’s prom date.

Soooooooooo yeah things did not pan out the way I would have liked them to that night, but I did receive this super nice text from him later:

img_5980

Because, as everyone knows, calling someone “big head pretty girl,” is how you land a 24-year-old step mother to your 18-year-old son.

I’ll leave you guys with a fun, uplifting quote.

“DATING IN LA IS NOT FUN.” – Big Head Pretty Girl

2 thoughts on “Dating in LA is so much fun

  1. HAHAHAHA!!! Hilarious as usual! You never disappoint…I never noticed your big head, it was/is perfect to me, hmmmm, next time I see you, I will check to see if your legs are shaved and stare at your head. Beautiful girl!!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s