Monday, August 28, 2006
(I don’t actually know what that means, but I hear it often on TV so…)
1) Immediately locate the bathroom upon entering any restaurant, club or bar. You’ll need a place to hide once the panic of having to be social sets in—and it will—be prepared.
2) Find the plants. You’ll need coverage—not just for hiding, but for disguising the whole “alone and awkward” thing. If there aren’t any plants for coverage (never go back to that place!) look for poles, beams or other obstructions. Important caveat to this rule—pay special attention to the poles you choose. If you accidentally end up near a stripper pole, people will actually start looking at you and chanting shockingly inappropriate things. Be warned. You know, unless you need some singles to tip the valet, then…
3) If you are forced to sit next to a guy who appears to be alone, or with his male bonding buddies, immediately turn your back—thus shutting down the possibilities of actually having to talk to someone. Double bonus points if you can add the hand covering the side of the face nearest them in the “you can’t see me” manner so popular with 2 year olds. Men like a challenge—so really make them work for it. Put both arms over your head and sing “la, la, la” just to make it more interesting.
4) If you are forced to assume the façade of someone actually enjoying herself (sheyah, that’s likely), I highly recommend desperately clutching the single glass of red wine all night. Plus, it leaves that delightful tinge to your tongue, teeth and lips. What’s not love about that? Very inviting!
5) Get out as quickly as possible and, for goodness sake, don’t make eye contact. That could get you stuck in conversation as you frantically edge toward the door.
6) Get home alone, lock the door and breathe huge sigh of relief to have successfully weathered another social situation. Whew!
I know—it’s a shocker that I’m still single. Do you have tips for navigating social situations? If so, mail them to me at email@example.com.
Kate, Dating in LA
Sunday, August 27, 2006
The event was a birthday celebration for someone who I know a bit, although not well. It's something I could have easily gotten out of, but I thought "time to see what's out there".
Anyone have any guesses on how long it took me to figure out what to wear? bzzzzzzz whatever number you just came up with, add at least 2 hours to it. I'm completely ill-equipped for a social life. I have jeans, sweats and business clothing-- there is no in-between. So, I did what any other resourceful woman does living in LA-- I went online and checked out the club life photos of the stars. Wow... if I keep this up, I'm going to need a trainer. I don't show that much skin at the beach. Luckily, there are very few places in LA where jeans aren't allowed. Plus, I figured all the focus would be on the birthday girl.
In truth, it took me longer to figure out what to wear than it did for me to make an appearance, drink the birthday drink, and leave the revelers to it. But it's a start.
Maybe next time I'll even talk to one of those strangers ... NAH :)
Kate, (venturing out) Dating in LA
Thursday, August 24, 2006
“Honeymoon during my exams? Sure, I’ll call my professors and rearrange them all. No problem!” (she says with a chipper, Martha Stewart smile on her face)
“You want to have a baby while I’m in my medical residency? Absolutely!! That’s what research years are for!”
“You need me take the kids tonight? Well, I was planning on sneaking across the border into occupied France, but a little early covert training will probably be good for them. And if we get trapped there, at least they’ll pick up the language easily since they are so young.”
Ok, slight exaggeration… it was Soviet Siberia, not France, but you get the idea.
Then I think back on the men. These were nice, educated, quality men. And they were equally ready to make sacrifices for … their… um… oh… wait… no
“You want me to think about going away for the weekend? But I have a thesis to write… over the next 6 years. I need to focus.”
“You want a birthday card? Why are you putting this pressure on me? You know I have a big conference call next month.”
Is it biology? Women are designed to be multitaskers—after all, they continue to function and be pregnant. Is it societal? A woman expects to take on the role of the great accommodator?
In an odd way it reminds me of the old song “Sex, I’m a” by Berlin. Brilliant piece of social commentary in many ways (which seemed so scandalous and shocking to me at the time). Think about the woman’s part in that song—She keeps rattling off different facets of who she is (has to be?) in the relationship: goddess, virgin, blue movie, mother, little girl, slave, one night stand, dream divine.
What does the guy say? What is his role? “I’m a man”. It’s all he says throughout the entire song. “I’m a man”.
Seriously? Woohooo. Thank goodness I’m leaving my house for that :)
Kate, who is in no way bitter, dating in LA
Monday, August 21, 2006
a) not considered dating
b) might not be construed as an earnest attempt at finding true love
c) is just the teensiest bit illegal
sure. fine. whatever.
Kate, Dating in LA
Were you people aware of this? How could you not email and warn me of this sort of thing? It's just proper etiquette, sort of along the lines of the emergency broadcast system-- I should be receiving notices from informed parties in the event of earthquake, famine, flood and any other force of nature that might propel me from my home.
Plus, if I leave, doesn't that mean that I might not be giving the pizza delivery men (eg Patrick Dempsey in Loverboy) a fair shot? That seems elitist and wrong. I'm all about the fairness.
Also, if I go out, how will I explain why I've still got a death grip on my tv remote? Men aren't all that perceptive when it comes to things like new shoes, but someone is going to notice my shiny silver universal. I'm sorry, did one of you actually just think "leave the remote at home". Sheyah... like that's going to happen.
Kate, Dating in LA
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Marriage itself is not unusual-- I've heard talk. I know it happens. But he's getting married, and he is not marrying me. That can't be right. We dated for 10 years, and while we haven't been together for a number of years now-- a sneaky, dangerous part of my heart never believed that we wouldn't be together again... one day... someday...
Well, I guess we've shot that idea straight to hell.
I found out by email-- simultaneously awful not to be told in person and protected because he couldn't see me stomping around my tiny Hollywood apartment yelling"IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ME!!" (Hey-- don't judge-- I didn't say it was logical). It's a long, glowing email because we've remained friends and friends share. Haven't responded yet-- there are no words-- at least not honest ones.
You know the real tragedy of it all? I'm going to have to date. In Los Angeles. I am not a supermodel or starlet. I am not under 25. Given these factors-- is it actually legal for me to date here? Surely there's a union fine when short, plain women from the east coast try to navigate these dating waters.
So, I guess this is it. I'm going to do this. My name is Kate, and I'm dating in LA.