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The Boys I Have Dated (L.A.- Year 1)

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Saturday, July 19, 2008

The Boys I Have Dated (L.A.- Year 1)

#4- I’m contractually obligated not to talk about you.


#5- I met you on the set of my company’s crappy indie movie. We were both extras in a dance scene. You were beautiful. Just my type. You were tall and lanky with dark hair and blue eyes. It had been so long since I met someone I felt instant attraction before. Actually, you might have been the first and only person I’ve felt instant attraction for. We danced the night away and as we were parting ways, I casually mentioned how cute you were and that we should grab a drink sometime. That was the first time I ever said anything like that, but I was a big city girl now, and big city girls make the first move, right? We met for coffee at the bookstore you worked at. You occasionally mentioned your girlfriend of many years, but that didn’t stop us from making out later in the week. The beginning of a sad, selfish behavior I would revisit with other relationships. Soon after reaching third base, you vanished, just as quickly as you came into my life. You would appear out of the blue months later and this would continue for another three years. We would get together, have amazing conversations, you’d have troubling keeping it up, then you’d disappear. Your very religious girlfriend finally dumped your ass awhile back, but you still won’t date me. It’s ok. You’re still my type, but the whole shaving your pubes, liking Julie Andrews, and the trouble with fidelity thing makes me a little leery. I saw you last night, and you’re still as cute as ever, and I put my hand down your pants void of any emotion.


#6- You were a friend. We met on a show- I was the subject and you were the cameraman. I assume like most people who are forced to shoot someone for 20 hours a day every day for a month, you were strangely interested in me. You were absolutely not my type. You had blonde hair and you surfed. You tried telling me that Gene Wilder was dead and I was turned off by the pure insanity of that statement. You invited me to your birthday party where you drunkenly left your boots and nunchucks in my car- and that was it. The sheer manliness of your thick leather boots and nunchucks turned me on. You were like a cowboy. A cowboy trained in the martial arts. We spent one amazing evening walking the misty shores of Venice Beach and like out of a movie, we both turned to each other and said this night could not be anymore perfect. We shared a wonderful couple of months together before you started to swiftly pull away. You had just broken up with your girlfriend of ten years who you had tucked away back in Iowa and said you didn’t want to date anyone right now (though I discovered you were dating another girl as well). I spent many a drunken night calling you trying to convince you otherwise. Our last encounter involved me drinking from a flask on the Venice Beach boardwalk at night, passing out with the sea homeless who sleep there, and you searching for me amongst the wooly lumps in the sand. You broke my heart. I was still reeling from the mess #4 caused and I pushed you further away with my frantic fall from security.... *Update- I'm friends with you again and I had to delete quite possibly some of the cruelest shit I've ever written about anyone after that last sentence. Man, I'm a bitch.


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