Hey kids! I have an extra special treat for you this week: a guest post by a fellow Angeleno, the lovely Liz from We Love Dates! Woooooooooo! Alright, alright, simmer down. Liz has got one doozy of a dating story to share with y’all, and I can actually say this shiz has never happened to me. It’s like something out of a bad sitcom. One with a laugh track. But it’s much more entertaining because it’s real. STFU and get to it, you say? Fine, I can take a hint. Take it away, Liz!
And for the most part, I really do love dates. I like getting dressed up all cute, I like drinking wine when I curl my hair and get ready, and I find the anticipation of the unknown pretty damn exhilarating.
Will we have anything to talk about?
Is he as hot as I remember?
I wonder if he’s going to kiss me…I wonder if I’ll even want him to.
Should I wear my sexy underwear or my rainbow brite ones?
As a dating blogger, dates are semi scientific experiments for me, and I actually love it when a date goes horribly wrong. Awkward situations are my kind of Christmas morning. I have to get my material from somewhere, and people love a good train wreck. My favorite as of late?
Spike your tea with some whiskey and get comfy, it’s story time.
I’m an equal opportunist dater. Yes, I write for an online dating blog, but who are we kidding? I’ll go out with anybody with a pulse, a penis and sexy forearms (don’t know what it is, I love me some defined forearms) it doesn’t matter how I meet him. Moving right along…I had just started dating a guy I met IRL at a mutual friend’s birthday party in West Hollywood. Cute, successful, funny, the whole thing–and of course, I wasn’t really feeling it. There just wasn’t much of a spark. It wasn’t serious and we hadn’t yet had any kind of “talk,” so I kept my online dating profiles active and kept browsing around online, hoping that someone would catch my eye.
I started emailing back and forth with a guy who was sexy as hell in his photos and his emails made me laugh out loud. Pretty soon, emailing turned into g-chat, which quickly turned into texting, followed by late night phone calls. AKA, phone sex. Duh.
We hadn’t made concrete plans to meet yet because he was traveling for work, but I knew that once he got back we’d make it happen. So I kept talking to him as much as possible, all while still going out on dates with the guy from the party. He’d take me to dinner, we’d have a good but not great time, he’d peck me good-night, and I’d spend the night talking to my internet lover until the wee hours of the morning.
This is what being single in L.A. looks like.
Anyway, party boy and I decided to grab lunch in Burbank one sunny day and he casually mentioned that his best friend was flying into the Burbank airport that was down the street at the same time and might come meet us for a drink. I didn’t think much of it until I remembered that my phone sex buddy had told me he was flying into Burbank today too… No way, I thought. L.A isn’t that small.
When I heard my date say, “He’s here,” I was shoving a hamburger the size of a bowling ball into my mouth and had ketchup all over my face. I looked up, and there he was. He looked just like his photos, except he was wearing more clothes… it was my worst fear confirmed.
L.A. really IS that small.