After a pretty decent break of being on it (and instead, focusing on Tinder’s shenanigans) I logged back in about two weeks ago to peep the scene and check a few messages.
I noticed a guy from Alabama had viewed my profile and the bow tie he was wearing in his profile pic was enough to get me to click through to check out his whole profile.
He has style. Nice.
The fascination had just begun.
The first line of his bio states that he’s a “confident, established, successful gentleman.”
Now that’s all relative, as I’ve learned through previous situations, but I’m curious to learn more, and am definitely looking for someone who’s more established than not.
I skim his profile and it leaves other nuggets in there for me that I love, like that he’s a “relationship guy…who prefers to only date one woman at a time ..sorry if that offends anyone….”
Well, what the what?!
Offended?!
No, charmed. More guys in LA need to adopt this concept.
Continue.
He’s an “engineer by trade, but a writer by heart.”
We’re already similar in that we’re both 50/50 right-brain/left-brain. Nice!
Then it says he’s in the process of relocating to LA.
I wonder if he’s been here already and that this profile is old, but I send him a message saying. ..
“I’m the best tour guide you could ask for in LA, if you’re looking for one!”
He responds back,
“I was hoping you’d say that…!”
We exchange a few messages back and forth. He says he’s arriving to LA on Thursday and that I should contact him then.
We’re both excited to meet each other!
The days go by and we text and play phone tag until we finally have a chance to connect on Sunday. He’d been here a few days already.
I reach him on the phone while driving to my gf ‘s birthday party.
He totally has an accent! A true Southern Gent, born and raised in Alabama. Refined, and I love it.
We talk about things we like and don’t like and we learn we have a bunch of things in common already. Hmmm, interesting!
I don’t really have any friends from the South here in LA, so this is different for me. All I know is that everyone there is friendly, polite, takes their time and loves good food. Kinda like the Midwest where I’m from, I guess. 🙂 Fun!
We’re both available later that evening and I make plans to pick him up. He’s staying at the Hyatt Regency until he buys a house, and won’t get his two cars (yes, TWO cars) delivered here until Monday, so I arrive.
I call him and he says he’s walking out.
Soon I see a man in a light-colored, striped seersucker suit on the phone, walking towards me.
Yes, folks. Seersucker. The South is alive and well.
We hang up and I get out to hug him hello. He cleans up nicely, and can totally pull it off. I learn he’s always styling.
We get in my car and he’s kinda quiet, and chuckling.
I ask him what’s up. He says,
“We drive the same car.”
“What?!”
Haha…yes. Apparently we have matching BMWs, except his is white and mine is black.
“I’m walking up to your car thinking, ‘This woman is not driving my car…’lol….”
We add this to our already long list of things we have in common. 🙂
We take a 4 minute ride over to Beverly Hills and to one of my favorite spots for great first date drinks, The Peninsula. I already knew he’d love the vibe.
We pull up to valet, amongst several Bentleys, Rolls Royces, an Audi R8, and more. I love this place.
We head to the very fancy lounge and sat down to talk and have some wine.
He’s very calm. Confident. Refined.
And totally wearing seersucker!
I’m quite intrigued by this man, and I know the evening is about to get interesting. This is not an ordinary guy…
In case you either live under a rock or are married (both are perfectly fine), there’s this new dating app called, Tinder. It runs strictly on your smartphone.
I think they called it “Tinder” because the idea is to set your love life up in flames as quickly as possible.
Let me explain.
Known as the “hook up” site and a reputation for quick, meaningless connections within a few miles of where you’re currently located, Tinder requires less effort than blinking your eyes and about 2 brain cells to determine whether the “match” displayed on your screen is someone you want to like or not.
If you like their pic and have read their short bio (if they’ve even written one), you take your thumb and swipe right on their pic to let them know you’re interested. (For the uber curious, you can click to see up to 5 total pics…if they’ve actually uploaded them.)
If they’ve already done that same “swipe right” process after seeing your profile, BADABOOM! You’re a MATCH! Cupid can go back to sleep now and your hot and heavy adventure can begin.
Given my extensive knowledge and current practice using other dating apps, I’d say this one’s at the bottom of the spectrum in terms of finding someone amazing, who’s also truly looking for a long-term relationship.
Except for this guy I met on Tinder last Friday who I’ll probably marry….
First, I learned that as much as The Architect intrigues me, it’s not a match.
Without divulging too much detail about his personal life and continuous drama with the mother of his two children, I’ll say this much:
We all have baggage. We just have to decide how much strength we have to carry a heavy (or lighter) load. And when it comes to a very fresh, very new potential relationship, this includes you and how much of their baggage you choose to deal with alongside them. Especially when you’re close enough to be trusted with and learn all of the craziness happening from a pretty early start.
There’s a LOT.
Long story short, the level of his “baby mama drama” is like an 11 on the 10-point scale. And even though she’s this famous blonde Hollywood-type you’ve most likely seen on a TV show (a Dr. who talks about relationships of all things!), according to The Architect she’s bat-poop cray cray. A fraud and total hypocrite who is somehow “obsessed” with Mr. Architect, as he says. The stories he shares with me about her are like nothing I’ve heard and it makes me appreciate the people in my life who are SANE.
They’ve not been together for over 6 years but as a very active dad in his two daughter’s lives, it’s inevitable and almost unavoidable drama for him on a daily basis.
I learn more and more during our date this weekend:
After not seeing each other for a month or so, The Architect invites me out for brunch.
I was curious to see how he was doing (new developments for him on the work side of things) and we do have a special connection.
We spent a few hours in the warm, sunny SoCal city of Manhattan Beach. After we ate at Ocean View Cafe, we walked down to the ocean.
He shared with me the latest gripes and groans about everything going on (his ex, his latest client who won’t pay his full rate, etc) and I found myself feeling sad.
Sad for him because it’s never any fun when one parent uses the kids to manipulate the other parent. Sad for him because I know he loves his daughters and his ex puts so much unnecessary strain on those relationships, and after 16 years of it, he’s TIRED. And finally, sad for him because the majority of what he talks about now is almost all negative.
I’m a glass-half full type of woman and maybe when I’m 56 I’ll be a Negative Nancy, too, but I certainly will do everything in my power to NOT be!
In addition, I can’t STAND people who are negative. Or not just negative, but who only talk about the bad things in life. He might speak about actual facts of a situation that he can’t do anything about, but there’s always light to find in a situation, too.
I much prefer to keep things positive, happy, light-hearted and fun.
Much of what he talks about is just repetitive, too, and I’m not a fan of a broken record.
I AM a fan, however, of acknowledging the bad stuff but then changing things up and to start focusing on the positives we see right in front of us.
Fast forward…
He knows I have plans later in the day (another date!…although I didn’t share that), so we head back. I drop him off. We hug and he gives me a kiss goodbye.
It didn’t feel “final” or anything, but in my heart he’s definitely moved into The Friend Zone.
Which, of course, SUCKS because now instead of getting it for free, I’ll probably have to pay him to build me that dream house, in which I won’t be living in with him. Sigh.
Bringing you up to speed on Mr. Architect, my future (maybe?) house builder “if this works out.”
It all started when he asked me to meet for a late Saturday lunch. We met at Casa del Mar, a swanky hotel about 5 minutes from me, in Santa Monica. This is my favorite place to meet to watch the sunset. There are HUGE windows and the hotel is right on the ocean. It’s gorgeous.
We met up and to the left, in the library part of the elegant lobby.
I’m nervous to meet him, but look reallly cute. I was wearing a dress, high heels and my fab new spray tan. (Btw, don’t judge the paint. Everyone looks better bronzed, and my white butt needed some color! 🙂 I felt very Californian.)
I had plans to meet my girls for brunch right before (just down the street, at another fabulous hotel, Loews), and then would head over afterwards to meet him.
He had texted me to meet him “in the upper bar, at the library.” Extra points already for giving me specifics. I love that, and it’s a big hotel.
I walk in and see him across the way. He stands up from his chair, smiles, I wave and cross over to him.
He then reaches out his hand and helps me up the 3 steps to where he was sitting. Well, folks, we have a gentleman on our hands! I appreciate the assistance as I’m wearing 4 inch heels.
He immediately makes a comment about how great I look and I’m pleasantly surprised to see him look even better in person.
He’s wearing some sort of golf shorts, a polo with its collar popped, underneath a light blue sweater – its collar also popped. Ah, yes, that man has style. He’s an architect, after all.
He’s also wearing a fitted baseball hat.
Now, I’m not sure where or how I grew to LOVE a man in a fitted hat, but there’s something about that look that drives me crazy! Maybe it’s from my appreciation/fascination with athletes. They can really pull that off.
I sit down at the couch next to his chair, in this small area with a few other comfy chairs and a flat screen TV on the wall. It’s warm and sunny and a perfect Saturday afternoon.
We begin to chat.
The conversation is going great! He’s telling me about his family, growing up in SoCal, a bit about his work, etc. I’m telling him similar things. There’s a lot of smiling and laughs. My cheeks hurt.
I ask him why he wanted to contact me and what he liked about me/my profile. I’m always curious.
He tells me he likes that I’m smart, “put together,” and beautiful. It’s really cute, because he’s trying to be super polite and wants to elaborate on that one more, and I can tell he’s looking for the right words. Words that won’t offend me, but will get his point across. He did a good job. I blush. I’m flattered.
He takes his hat off and puts it on the table in front of us.
I ask him to please pick it back up – and to put it back on, but backwards.
He smiles, and does it.
I die.
I look at him and his matching blue hat, and think, “This man can not be 47 years old as it said in his profile! Wow, he looks good.”
At that moment, he leans over and asks for a kiss.
Wait, what?? I just met you! But then again, you are wearing the heck outta that damn hat…
He gives me a sweet kiss on the lips.
I died again.
Those lips!
We continue conversation for another TWO HOURS. A few more kisses snuck in.
I learn two things:
1. This man doesn’t care about PDA.
2. He knows what he wants.
In the meantime, a family of 4 visiting from another country (maybe Ireland or England) comes over to our area to watch the Australian Open on the TV. A mom, dad, son about 13 and daughter, 21-ish who comes back from the bar with a drink.
Mr. Architect and I are chatting amongst ourselves.
He still has the hat on, backwards.
He’s leaning over to me to tell me something quietly, but stops abruptly, and says, “I think she just took my picture.”
What??
“Yeah! I think that girl just took my picture!” he says, quietly and in shock.
I turn my head to the right, where the girl was sitting, and sure enough, she’s holding her iPhone in the “I’m-trying-not-to-look-conspicuous-while-I-take-your-picture” way.
Well, what the what?!
She looks away.
He’s confused, yet flattered.
I’m smiling, laughing to myself. Hell, I’m flattered.
He does look like someone famous. An athlete (he’s 6′ 4″), the backwards hat, his attention that would glide to the sports on the TV in front of us occassionally. Yep. I can see what she was thinking. I also remember that we’re in a high density of tourists area and people not from Los Angeles hope to run into a celebrity during their stay.
Awkward and awesome at the same time.
The real irony here, however, is that his ex (and mother to his two girls, 10 and 15) is somewhat famous. A well-known TV personality who I went home later to Google. Yep. She’s someone. He’s all too familiar with the Hollywood scene, and prefers to remain in the background. (This makes more sense now and I recall how he doesn’t like having pictures up online.)
So, we’re there nearly 2 1/2 hours by this point and he says he needs to put more money in the meter where he parked.
We get up to leave.
We walk across the street. His Range Rover is up the block, so I suggest I wait for him at the bottom of the street. When he comes back we can watch the sunset on the ocean.
He heads up the hill to his truck and not a minute later two of my girlfriends who I had brunch with earlier pop right up in front of me! They were still hanging out in the area and had seen us walk right past them moments ago.
They saw my date! And I wanted them to meet him, so moments later I’m introducing him to my girls. Random! Awkward! Awesome! haha I love them, and it’s now fun to have them put a face and name with the shenanigans I dish later on. 🙂
We all walk across the street to the sand so we can watch the sun go down. My girls decide to part ways, though, and Mr. Architect and I are now alone again.
We stroll on the promenade, walking slowly, talking and holding hands. He’s very affectionate.
We find a spot to sit and talk some more.
We’re being all cute and kinda lovey-dovey and flirty and people are watching as they pass by on their walks. (Something I learn to get use to on Date #2, Date #3 and Date #4.)
But it’s just me and him there, really. The conversation continues…
The topic of his age comes up, and I want to verify that he’s really 47, as it says on his profile. I love an older guy, and prefer someone in their 40s, but I just can’t believe that he’s that old! He looks much younger!
(Side note: I later asked my girls who met him how old they thought he was, and they said “late 30s, if that.”)
He reacts strangely, and just smiles.
Oh, no. You did not lie on your profile, buddy! Did you??
He tells me he’s not 47.
I immediately begin to get nervous.
I ask again, demanding that he tells me how old he is.
Maybe he’s younger? Or not, wait, maybe….older? Oh no, how MUCH older?
He chuckles a little and says he’ll tell me. He’ll be honest with me.
“I’m actually fifty. Fifty…five. 55 years old.”
WHAT?!?!?!
Holy amazeballs, Batman! That can’t be right.
I feel like I’ve just been given the biggest shock of my life.
“Yep, it’s true. But only for a few more weeks. I’ll be 56 in two weeks. On Superbowl Sunday.” He smiles a big smile.
WHAT?!?!?!?
I look for a paper bag to breathe into. This is not what I was expecting.
I’m 33. That’s a 22 year difference!
Ummm…ok, focus. What do I do now? Hmmm….everything was going so great!
I look at him real close and just shake my head. I don’t believe him. He has to be younger.
But then he goes to tell me that he knew I wouldn’t respond to his message on Plenty of Fish if I had seen his real age.
He was right.
And now I think I’m kinda glad he lied. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here on this fabulous date.
So at this point he’s conscious that I’m either two seconds away from bailing on this date and never talking to him again, or kissing him cuz he’s clearly the hottest AARP-card-carrying member I’ve met. (Omg, please don’t let that last assumption be true. How old do you have to be to qualify for AARP?)
He grabs my hands and then my waist and pulls me into a hug. He gives me a playful kiss and that helps calm me down a bit.
I decide not to bail, but my mind is still reeling.
We have a bit more conversation and then we know it’s time to get going. He had something to do with his daughters at 6:30pm.
We say goodbye, but not after me giving him crap about his age some more. I appreciate that he was honest with me in person, and I know that a lot of people lie in their profiles about age.
And for some reason, I’m more curious than creeped out about this guy.
I’m fascinated by who he is, what he does, his story, his personality. All of it.
I mean, there is an age difference. And he was building Denzel Washington a house when I was still in high school (as I later found out), but I think I’m ok with that.
Apparently Plenty of Fish (POF) doesn’t let you send someone a message if you haven’t at least uploaded one picture of yourself first. THIS kind of a rule is amazing. Online dating is so much better when there’s pics.
Yet Mr. Architect found this out the hard way when he came across my profile and immediately wanted to contact me. (He later tells me how and why he initially reached out.)
Seeing as how he’s a very private guy, he didn’t want to upload any pictures. However, he saw me and wanted to contact me, so up a picture went.
Operation: Talk To This Girl, began.
First, he added me as a Favorite.
I ignored it.
Big deal. Tons of people add me as a favorite, but never do anything beyond that. Plus, your profile’s pretty blank, dude. Not interested.
A few days pass. He then sent me a message:
“Good morning…”
That was it.
So, naturally, I ignored it, also.
Not because I’m a snob, but if that’s all you’re going to give me in your first message, I’m not interested. It’s not my job to create your profile (or conversation) FOR you!
Besides, after the hundredth first-ever message from guys like: “Hi.” “Hey there.” “What’s up?” “Hey beautiful.” “How are you?” ….I want to stab my eye with a pencil. Where’s the originality?!
Points for someone who knows how to communicate! Yes, even online, it’s a stretch nowadays, and someone who can string together more than two original sentences is already sexier than the other “Hi” guy. Ugh. Kill me.
A few days later, this guy who had actually listed his profession on his very limited profile as “Sales Professional”, decided to give it one more shot.
He finally sends:
“Hello,
You’re gorgeous and I think you’re just stunning! And I’m sure you’re bright and put together as well, and I would love to talk sometime, or if you’re up for it, even meet……I’m a 6’4″ architect ~ funny, bright, cool laid-back guy who is also very fit.
You can check me out via my website (insert his company website here) and or contact/email me on FB.
Cheers,
(insert his first initial, last initial here)”
NOW we’re talking! I loved the extra info. And a girl LOVES to hear she’s stunning and beautiful.
I was listening…
I loved the mini-pitch of who he is (an architect, huh?), and that he gave me extra links to look up (ie – stalk) him online.
Winning!
So, naturally, I stalk.
Before I even consider responding, I jump to his website.
Oh! Very nice! I see pics of his portfolio from some projects he’s worked on and I’m immediately impressed. I see the same picture he’s uploaded to his POF profile under the “About Us” tab for his Residential Design firm. A lengthy bio explains not only who he is, but that he specializes in the Classical tradition, with special emphasis on American renaissance period between 1880 – 1930. He’s LEGIT!
I remember that I had listed “Interior Design” as one of my interests on my POF profile, because this stuff fascinates me. I’m immediately intrigued.
So then I stalk him on Facebook, and after jumping over to my FB app to type in his name, I find we already have 10 friends in common here in Los Angeles. Whoa! That’s gotta be a good thing, right?
So I respond to this very patient man’s message and let him know how glad I was that I didn’t have to stab my eye with a pencil (j/k).
I loved his note, told him I was interested and then gave him my digits.
I ended my note with:
“PS – If this works out, will you build me a house?”
Joking, of course, and a few hours later I receive a text from him. He announces who he is and that yes, if this works out, he’ll build me a house. 🙂
I smiled, took a quick trip down Fantasy Lane to pick out some fabulous drapes, beautiful paint choices and shiny slabs of granite, and then went about my business.
I’ve seen a lot of abs in my day. Guys who are super cut, extremely fit, with tight abdominals that show muscles I didn’t know existed.
For some really crazy reason, I seem to attract a lot of guys in LA who are in tip top shape -personal trainers, actors, models, etc. And all this, despite the fact that my time spent in the gym is less than a fish spends on land, but hey, they’re not complaining.
I’ve even dated a celebrity personal trainer for about 8 months and we never worked out together ONCE. He was fine with that and totally into me.
While you have to be attracted to each other, and it’s important to live a healthy lifestyle, newsflash, ladies: curves, confidence and a sense of humor are IN. 🙂
Which brings us to Mr. Surgeon.
First of all, I find it interesting that I’ve now met several men in the healthcare field recently. The Doc, a home care nurse (two dates in now…blog coming perhaps), and now a surgeon. Strange? Hmm. Maybe.
Regardless, I must let you know about Mr. Surgeon, a new prospect I met this week on OkCupid. Here’s why he’s blog-worthy.
If you’ve any experience with online dating, you know that it’s a crap shoot. There are literally millions of singles online. A good handful of those aren’t real, and the vast majority of them are at least PARTLY fictional. People tend to lie and/or stretch the truth about their age, height, weight, career, hobbies (would everyone stop tying to pose as a world traveler? Please, Jacque Cousteau, you really don’t travel that much.)
So when I see a profile that has outrageous claims, immaculate pics and a lengthy description filled out for each section of his profile that’s also 99% free of any grammar or writing errors, too?!?!?!, I immediately put up skeptical antennas.
So I come across Mr. Ab-City Surgeon recently, who earned this name due to one of his pics in a Halloween costume. He’s wearing a bow-tie and cuffs, sunglasses, pants and Calvin Klein underwear, which I can see the tops of because he WASN’T WEARING A SHIRT!
He was, however, wearing his abs, and the definition was pretty ridiculous. No shirt needed.
It immediately reminded me I had to do laundry.
Now, again, I’ve seen plenty of washboards in my day, but this guy was also donning a big, bright smile. My weakness. I LOVE happy people.
I further flip through his pics and see him (with clothes) in scenes at the beach (ok, well, he did have his shirt off there, too), a few with his gorgeous chocolate labrador, one flexing on some rocks by the ocean (hello, biceps, too), and one of my favorites – him scaling a glacier. Sure, why not.
But that was all just icing on the cake, really.
I skip to read his thoroughly well-thought-out profile and it only gets better.
He’s a surgeon.
And a personal trainer.
And a volunteer.
And wants to start a business.
And a Christian.
And…totally cute, and funny, and charming, and HAS TO BE FAKE.
I mean, come ON!
I’m so intrigued and fascinated that I decide to send him a message.
Typically, I will view a profile and see if the guy checks me out in return (they’re notified). And if he does, I let him decide to send me a note or not.
However, there are the rare few who inspire me to write something clever and witty, in hopes of sparking a conversation.
That’s it. Mr. Ab-City Surgeon was getting a message.
Here’s exactly what I wrote him:
“(insert his name he left in his profile)…
Your profile can’t be real….lol!
I’ve seen a lot of online dating profiles and yours is pretty outstanding. It started with your adorable dog, then the Instagram pics that’d make most pro photogs jealous, then the line of “…Although I love doing surgeries…”, followed by the abs and bowtie, glacier climbing and “Christianity and very serious about it.”
I mean, really? You’re a total catch! If you’re trying to destroy that already high bar of expectations women have in LA, you did it with flying colors. Very nicely done, sir. 🙂
Please tell me you’re single because your awesome life simply doesn’t allow you time to find an awesome woman counterpart (which is prob why you’re here on OKC). THAT I would believe.
Regardless, it’d be great to get to know you if you’re interested.
Cheers and best of luck in your search!”
And off I sent it. Into the ethers of OkCupid and the Internet to see if the man would:
A.) look at my profile, and
B) respond.
I gave it a 20% chance that he’d respond. I know this “type.” He hadn’t been online in a few days, so I knew he wasn’t active.
I was so impressed by this dude that I posted about it on Facebook. (Hello to my friends who I’m connected with there and saw that post!) I asked them when they thought he’d respond.
And one of my girlfriends predicted three days…and wouldn’t ya know it? THREE DAY LATER, he responds to my message!
HOLY EXPLETIVE!
I about lost my mind when I saw the blue, blinking notification come across my phone. “New Message” on OkCupid from (insert his profile name).
After I got done flipping my s*** for a good two minutes, screaming and freaking out, I regained composure and checked his message.
Much to my surprise, not only did he respond, but it was the beginnings of a legit conversation!
He said:
“LOL! You’re too funny, (insert my name here)…and yes, my profile is very real 🙂
I actually joined okc a few years ago after a friend of mine encouraged me to, then I got tired of it so I took a break from it for a while. My work/projects have definitely contributed to my single status but mostly I just haven’t quite crossed paths with the “right one” yet. I’d be lying though if I said that I didn’t appreciate having my “Single” card. Ha! How long have you been in LA?
– C”
And there ya have it.
I responded accordingly, stating that I was glad to know I made him laugh….and that he’s the real deal. I replied with a few other questions and sent it off.
So now we wait, some more.
Either he’ll never respond again, he’ll respond with a few more questions and eventually want my number to talk and/or meet up, or we’ll get married.
Statistics say it’ll land somewhere in the middle and I’m going in with zero expectations, as I do with every new introduction I make.
About two weeks ago I received a message from a handsome Latin lad on OkCupid. A rugged-looking, great smile with beautiful brown eyes that sparkle. He’s an ex-Cirque dancer who’s traveled the world and now single, living in LA and working in post-production for a large company in the entertainment industry. He liked my profile and wanted to see if I was interested in meeting up to ‘take a coffee.’ (The broken English is very cute.)
I think he’s really great-looking and sounds interesting, so we send a few messages back and forth over the next week, and eventually exchange numbers.
Last night he texts me to see if I was available to take that coffee – he would be in my area before having to meet a friend out. Perfect.
We decide to meet at a nearby Starbucks, and as I approach he texts “Here?” I respond that I’m crossing the street.
(Side note – texting the play-by-play the moments before arrival and meeting a stranger for the first time comforts me. Thanks to quick texts, you don’t have the be the dork in the coffee shop looking at every new person who walks through the door, thinking, is that them??? Are they still coming? Am I too early? Did they find parking? When will they get here?! :))
I see a man with a beard step out of Starbucks and look at his phone as I make my way across the street to yet another first date scenario. I’m feeling excited! The anticipation of who this new person could be in your life definitely fills your head each time, moments before every first date actually happens.
He sees me walk up and we hug and say hello. It’s the awkward, nervous moment that happens on all first dates.
“Good to see you! Should we go inside?” he asks. Thick Spanish accent. Nice! The beard is different, though. He didn’t have that in his main profile pic.
We walk inside and he asks me how my day was. I tell him it was good and he asks what I do for a living. I tell him and he’s interested. I then return the question and he tells me where he works.
“No way! I have a good friend who works at that company,” I tell him, and he immediately holds his head and says…”Oh no……”
Now, at this moment, we both start smiling. The next 10 seconds will be very telling…
He asks who it is. I give him her name and he immediately grabs his head and says, “Oh NO!!!!! You’re kidding me! Of COURSE I know her! Oh woww…..” SMH.
And then he looks at me and says, “Wait. You and I, we’ve actually met before. At that….that, um….show, in Hollywood.”
Sure enough, we had. The lightbulb clicked. This man and I have met, although very briefly, several months ago during Intermission at a play in Hollywood my friend (his co-worker) had invited me to.
But THEN….it ALLLLLL clicked for me.
This was the same man who my friend had the occasional…um, meeting, with. A casual work fling she’d told me about, with a hot Latin dancer guy who was all about the sex.
OH SNAP. This guy is her booty call.
So at this point, we’re both extremely red in the face. We’re laughing because it’s so awkward, and I’m DYING inside because I doubt he knows what I know. Oh boy. What do I do now?! And is this really happening?!
So I keep quiet, and as we try to maintain composure, about 2 people who are standing near us ask if we’re actually in line or not.
We were so caught off guard. I’m sure we were standing there like 2 idiots. He asks if I’d still like a coffee. I say yes, and we order our drinks.
As we wait for his Passionfruit Tea to be made, we still are just laughing and shaking our heads. “Awkward…” he says, over and over.
“Ok, right?! And what are the chances?! There are millions of people in this city and we end up meeting!” I marvel.
He agrees it’s pretty crazy, still clearly embarrassed and/or trying to figure out what info I actually KNOW about himself.
So we sit down and he laughs and says we should text her we’re here together. I laugh and say, “No, wait. Let’s take a selfie together and send it! She’s going to die….”
And die she did, as I sent that pic of the two of us to her phone – me, one of her good gfs, and him, her booty call – just chillin’ at Starbucks. On a first date.
Last night I was invited to a fashion show. My friend’s clothing line for kids was being featured on the runway and she offered me a ticket.
The show was great and afterwards we mingled with others at the VIP cocktail reception.
My friend introduces me to two gentleman she had met earlier – both wearing suits.
Now in LA, it’s RARE to see a man in a suit. The lifestyle is so casual here that it’s not unusual to see someone in jeans on the red carpet. Dressing up is an exception in Los Angeles so I looooooove seeing a man in a suit. (Blame my lawyer ex-husband who got me hooked on picking out ties. My weakness.)
In LA, if a guy’s in a suit, he’s either a banker, a lawyer or lives in Beverly Hills. Just my experience. 🙂
Sure enough, this one guy I had my eye on lives in Beverly Bills.
We chat, we flirt, we play the “guess my age” game with all four of us and then clink our glasses together to “cheers” to us all looking wayyyyyy younger than our actual ages. Thank you, Mom and Dad, for the good genes.
I’m loving that this one guy is 49, but looks and acts like he’s in his 30s. I love he’s from the Dominican Republic but raised in New York and an NYU grad. Oh. And that he’s wearing a suit and tie ensemble that probably cost that of a good mortgage payment. I’m not mad.
My friend tells the two guys what I do for a living and Mr. Armani asks me if I also freelance on the side. I tell him I do sometimes and he wants my card. Awesome. He gives me his.
We talk more about us both being single parents, how much we love our kids and what position my son plays in football.
The time passes, we’re having great banter and we kinda drift a few feet over to have a more private conversation. He tells me stories of what REALLY happened with Kobe Bryant and his scandal, what his famous actor friend (who he won’t share his name) gave him for his 47th birthday, and a few of the film and charity projects he’s involved in. So Hollywood.
We’re chatting and laughing away and then the shocking moment of the night happens. He says something about being in trouble as a kid and I laugh and say I was grounded my whole childhood, too. He just looks at me and says, “I know you were.”
Um, excuse me? You weren’t there. How did you know that? We just met! What the what?
He answers, “OH, come on. You’re a rebel. It’s all in your eyes…..”
Dang! I’m so busted here, because it’s partly true, although I’ve been playing the professional, classy woman role all night. People tell me all the time I have these eyes…but how do they see this stuff??
I’m literally shocked, and smiling, ask how he could possibly know that (all the while maintaining my innocence).
“Please, I read you like a book right away. What’s that line in Jerry Maguire?…. Oh yeah, you had me at hello.” 🙂
I’m now blushing yet intrigued and luckily his friend walks over to say he’s got to get going.
Mr. Armani and him came together so he gives me a hug and asks what I’m doing this weekend. He tells me we should get together, and since I live just down the street from him it’d be easy to do. He tells me his travel plans for the next week and says we’ll figure something out. I tell him that’d be great. And they head out.
So now I wait for him to be a man and make a move. Yes, I’ll wait – not with baited breath, but with a vision of me strolling through his walk-in closet….full of ties. 🙂
It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve turned into a Private Investigator and gone to social media to find somebody to stalk,… err, I mean, look at.
We all do it.
And with new dates popping up faster than the Orville Redenbacker popcorn machine at the movie theater, I’ve got to find extra info on these boyz STAT, yo!
Well thank goodness he’s missing a vowel in how to spell his name cuz he was the ONLY guy on Facebook that came up in my search. How convenient!
He’s still texting me everyday, calling me “baby” (Btw, what is that with guys? I’m not your baby until we’re exclusive! Do you know how many people’s “baby” I am?? It’s getting watered down. Ugh.), and he’s tried to see me again (I already had plans that night) .
Let’s see what this guy’s REAL story is…
His profile? Pretty barren and locked down. Most recent profile pic was from 2011, and it was one of the same ones from his dating profile.
I couldn’t see or learn anything else, really. I flipped through a few old pics in an album on the red carpet with his brother, the guy in the NBA. Meh. Whatevs. Nothing too shocking. No women in his pix, just a bunch of guy friends. He still looks good, though.
But THEN… I see it.
A picture on his timeline from 2011, a selfie of a woman he had tagged as “my friend.”
She’s a pretty Asian girl and right away I remember him saying on our first date that he has a crazy, Asian ex. Whatever that means.
So naturally I click through to her profile and lo and behold, her current default profile pic is both her AND Mr. Can I Get A Vowel all hugged up together.
Further, her cover photo is of him and her at a zoo.
Busted.
I dig deeper to find the dates these pics were taken. Turns out, it was awhile ago but she had just re-uploaded them a few weeks back. I can read a public comment thread and see her tell her aunt who commented on how cute they are together that she “loves him very much!”
Hmmm.
Either they just broke up recently and she’s not quite ready to let go of their 3+ year relationship, or they’re still together.
Either way, I ain’t the one!
Too messy. And as I told him, I’m looking for a more serious relationship. I couldn’t expect anyone to be ready to jump right back into one.
I ended up questioning him about it. He said he had already “explained” the situation me. (No, playa, you didn’t. I’m pretty sure I would have recalled that info.)
So I told him I ain’t the one, and he said he wishes me the best and that I deserve the best.
Single Girl Shenanigans 