I walked the last block and a half still trying to remain positive about men and their lack of any sort of sense or tact. You’d think that men would have it down to an art on how to manipulate women into bed, but instead the men here seem to show all their cards upfront, and either you dig them enough to stick around, or they try to wine and dine one of the other million beautiful women in Los Angeles, either way it’s a win win situation for them and a losing one for any intelligent woman looking for more than just a screw. Don’t get me wrong, getting laid is getting laid, and a girls gotta eat – but I don’t have to try for that one nor do I worry about who foots the bill. Dating in Los Angeles is like being in a shark cage – your putting yourself out there to watch and observe, the iron cage protects you, and the bait isn’t you, but your still trying to figure out which one would eat you anyway and which one would just like to nibble on your toes if you did accidently end up outside the cage.  Never mind, bad analogy; they all want to rip you to shreds, in more ways than one.

If a date goes bad, I always walk myself home or ask to be dropped off at a location different than my own. There are a couple reasons why I use this strategy. First off there is no reason to ask someone to walk you home or drop you off at your home unless you want a goodnight kiss or to invite someone up for a nightcap. Better to be dropped off at a friends house (without them knowing of course that where they leave you is not actually your home) so that you can have a glass of wine and recap the whole night for both comic relief and to keep a positive attitude about dating, while you laugh over the evenings both good and bad events to your best friends. Plus it’s a way to remain optimistic, no matter how bad the date is going, you know you will be able to laugh about it later. Second off, I’ve seen Taken, Hostel and the Saw movies, I’m not about to let someone I hardly know, know my real address. You can never play it too careful in the dating world of LA. The dating scene is just like the film industry; everyone is out to get what he or she wants no matter what it takes or what it is. Whether its to get in your pants screw you and loose you, get there and then play you, use you to politically or financially enhance their career, or romance you into getting prematurely knocked up with a ring to boot, the men here are all after a specific goal. And a word to the wise: men do kiss and tell, so don’t kiss em’ if your not willing to pay for repercussions if it doesn’t work out. I learned the hard way.  A city that is dedicated to publicizing the intimate details of the stars for popularity and monetary gain is certainly not practiced in the art of discretion. In most places dating can just mean dating – exploring someone else and seeing what happens – in LA that’s not true; the people that are dating here, are for the most part, after someone or something very specific, otherwise they wouldn’t be dating.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to generalize and say that there aren’t millions of perfectly good men out there to date and have a serious, fun and committed relationship with, they just don’t exist in LA; or at least I haven’t found one yet that doesn’t also have an ulterior motive. Or that doesn’t belong to the local rehab center or psychiatric ward.

            As I mentioned previously, I don’t have a bad date drop me off at my own address. This being a bad date I was on my way to my girlfriends place, so that I could hash it out and explain just how bad it had gone with my three best girlfriends, who all thankfully live within a two-block radius of me. Since none of our careers are captivating enough to stimulate all of our conversations or personal life’s as well – we choose to find entertainment in our seemingly never ending search for at least a sustainable mate.  I use that particular word because all of us are well adjusted (at least reasonably so), single women who have made successful careers for ourselves – marriage is still the M word that may or may not happen – (Don’t even mention the C (children) word. None of us think we’re great enough to reproduce, and we certainly have not found a male that we can stand long enough to think he deserves a copy made of him!!). Don’t get me wrong, we all think marriage is a great idea, but so is communism; it doesn’t mean that it actually works out in real life. So when I say a sustainable mate, I just mean that we are all looking for the most basic of needs in a male partner: one that is honest (at least to our faces, and if they aren’t behind are backs they better be god damn good at making sure we never find out; none of us wants to be found on the front page of the newspaper for beating the living shit out of our boyfriends mistress just because we wanted to give her the ‘what for’.) Also a male that is good in bed – after all we are young and not sure of marriage, so why would we settle for a man not adequate in bed? That’s not discriminatory at all; you see if your small in the nether regions, shit that’s not your fault, but to be bad in bed? That is. This sustainable male should also be presentable in public – the hottest guy in the world still isn’t presentable if he belches at the dinner table. So you see why this would be one of the requirements as well. Last but not least he should be able to be a gentleman in some form. Maybe not completely, I’m realistic, I’m not asking for Mr. Darcy – but a superficial code of gentlemanliness at least in the beginning, certainly shows a presentation of respect, for yourself and the woman you have chosen to take out. Most men lose all pretense of good behavior once they have declared their love (some just as soon as they get remotely comfortable and are past the first few days, screw the L word). So to me it seems more than reasonable that we at least ask for it in the beginning. I mean if a male is uncouth at the onset of trying to impress you then what the hell will he be like when he doesn’t care?!? Plus when he relaxes then all of us women have a reason to complain ‘you used to be like this (not chewing on the steak bone in public) now you are like this (sucking on the marrow in the French restaurant that knows us by name)’, and if we don’t have something to argue about that is menial, we might choose something more substantial, which is why its good to let us bitch about the little things – that’s why ear plugs were invented. It seems that to be good in bed, honest, presentable and somewhat educated in the semantics of being a gentleman, at least initially and superficially, would not be such a hard feat for a man (as least that’s what I think), but apparently even those minimal requirements are a challenge for the average Los Angeles male.            

            Men often mistake women for wanting a committed relationship that would undoubtedly (from their perspective) lead to marriage.  Maybe this is the reason for foregoing the four previously mentioned basic stipulations – they think women only want marriage so they might as well act like frightened lions or advanced chimpanzees, then when they get the ‘you’re immature, you’re an animal’ talk, it’s taken without feeling for any sort of repercussions because that’s exactly how they wanted to seem in the first place. The perfect avoidance technique used magnificently. But many women, just like men, would rather come down with the bubonic plague than get married or have children (me being one of them).  However most women will hit an age, whether they want to or not, where their anatomy screams: I want to have a child, put a bun in the oven, get knocked up, create a ‘love child’, squeeze one out… you get my point. But unfortunately for science and reproduction, the smarter the woman the more unlikely she is to seriously consider mating and reproducing no matter how strong that urge. Too bad for evolution. And survival of the fittest? Lets hope so because right now, its overpopulation of the dumbest.

            Although what I have previously stated may just be angst or sexual tension because I haven’t gotten laid in over two months, I do feel that men misjudge the modern woman and tend to think she just wants to have a ring and be knocked up. Just because the media and Beyonce promote breeding, doesn’t mean the average intelligent woman wants the same. From what I’ve seen, from my friends and from what I want, we just want an honest relationship with a male that meets the four qualifications mentioned above. Oh and did I mention frequent good sex? That’s the main reason to have a relationship, frequently good sex whenever you desire, with someone who knows your secret spots of orgasmic relief; why else would you stay with the same man?  No less and no more. Women, as I know men do as well, just want to have something real (and did I mention frequent good sex?!?), and let the condoms fall where they may.

Returning to my date from hell (ok it wasn’t that bad), I wondered if it wasn’t fair to think that my girlfriends are not as romantically challenged as I am. (Not that they were getting more dates, in fact less, but they seemed to give those men a second and third trial while I scratched them off the virtual white board on my iphone as soon as they tried to tell me they liked chocolate more than fight club. What crazy person would say that?!? Fight club obviously rules over the majority of movies out there so don’t push my buttons by thinking you are getting in touch with my femininity my mentioning a chick flick). But then again I think Michael Corleone from the Godfather is romantic (which could be part of the problem right there). Or maybe not… most women don’t think he’s romantic at all, which would mean that the men I’m dating are really dysfunctional if they can’t out charm a mafia leader that works in organized crime…  and is dead. I will admit that a certain amount of Sinicism on my part seems to have developed over time. But at least a sense of humor has accompanied it.

If the saying is true about the straw that broke the camels back, then I must be one strong camel, and this time – it didn’t just break, it shattered.  And not from any lack of strength or length of carrying, but just being damn sick of the one that has to bear the weight!! No. From now on this camel would be looking for a rider that takes her nourishments into consideration. After all that’s not too much to ask.

I called my friend’s phone to let her know the date was done.
“So. Your outside. That’s the only reason you would be calling me – if you were calling me to gloat about an excellent date or a passionate affair in the bedroom – you would be calling a few hour from now.  Jeanine is here and so is Kathy. None of us had dates tonight so we are dying to hear you tear apart your date. After all you’re the best at that out of all of us. We’d be lying if I said we wanted your date to be successful; then you’d be getting laid while we drank wine with the only hopes of an orgasm coming from our battery powered vibrators. But I guess the advantage to that is that prince charming always comes!!”  

“Its true.” I said as I let out a big sigh and a small laugh all at once “Reliability can be hard to come by these days. In other important matters… I’ll be at your door in T minus two seconds! Chh over and out.”

“Jesus. Here you are. I gotta ask…”

“Shoot Shooter!”

“And my case is settled. Have you thought about getting your brain checked lately? You know to make sure everything is still screwed in right?”

“Darling nothing has ever been screwed in right. But wait” I paused dramatically. “Do you really think I should get my brain checked?” I gasped quickly. “You don’t think that aliens are trying to secretly invade my brain using microscopic chemicals added to the new thickening serum I’m using?”

“It depends. What serum are you using?”

“Some famous brand. Why are you using it too?” As I said this I tried to make my eyes big and astonished looking.

“No honey I think you’re the only one. And don’t worry –either aliens have invaded your brain and decided the planet isn’t worthy to occupy – or that’s how you’ve always been and you don’t need any help from extraterrestrial sources. I’m betting on the second. Funny you seem to wonder why you can’t get a normal date.”

“OK OK I’m ready for my drink! I better get one after I’ve been tortured like this!! And now you expect me to let all of YOU pick my brain!?! Allow me to share my innermost details and dating extravaganzas? And Julie?” I said turning to my best friend with an eyebrow raised quizzically, “it all depends, what do you characterize as normal?’

“Not you?”

“Figures. But then again you’re my friend. What’s that got to say about you?” I reached for the glass of wine that Kathy had just poured me and took one long sip, finishing about half the glass in one gulp.

“Geez Liz – was the date really that bad?” Kathy wasn’t much of a drinker… or a dater for that matter. She clearly didn’t understand the importance of alcohol to relieve symptoms of stress, anger and pain inflicted on one during hectic situations. Or any situation for that matter.

“Ok so tell us what happened this time – we’ve all been watching Scream which while satisfying our blood lust hasn’t completely done the trick to fully entertain us this evening. Now we have you. Which satisfies both requirements.” Jeanine turned off the TV just as one of the characters heads’ was smashed in the garaged door – a person favorite kill scene of mine. Inventive and gruesome without being over done – classic. Leave it to my friends to rent a horror movie if they were without dates on a Friday night. Although I would have expected that of Jules and Jeanine -  they clearly pushed Kathy into agreement. Kathy worked as a kindergarden teacher at the local public school and was used to spending her time talking to small children and telling them to calm down and not pick their noses. Her idea of a good movie was Walt Disney, hardly the newest slasher. My guess was that she would be staying the night with Jules tonight. Julie – Jules – on the other hand was a bartender, and  damn good. Three margaritas made by her were almost enough to give me the right kick, but four usually did it for sure, five or six and I was lucky to remember the night. Those are good margaritas considering I can out drink most grown men. She had worked long enough at the current bar she was at that she had negotiated to work all evenings BUT Friday and Saturdays; although those two were the money making nights she preferred to have those off. She was young and single after all and date night could still mean something, whether it was with a man or her viborator, either could provide a nights full entertainment, but at least the last always made her come. The bar she worked at, The Cat’s Meow, was always packed enough that any night brought in plenty of revenue. Not to mention she had enormous fake tits that never stopped her from making plenty from the men.  She wasn’t bad to look at either, although the breasts were certainly the main attraction. Jeanine was a nurse, tough bold and strong tempered. A bad combination for catching too many males, especially when she was more volumptious than most.

“My date tonight honestly wasn’t so awful, more it was embarrassing, hilarious, and just bad mannered…“

The Crotch Grabber

I originally met Ray through a few friends. I was at one of the usual parties watching a Lakers game and we caught each other’s eye. Good looking, medium height, sports fan, dark eyes and hair with a deep stare that caught you off guard. He worked in finance, more than that I wasn’t sure. After the game was over I didn’t have a whole lot of interest in staying around so I was carefully making my way out the door when Ray caught my elbow. We chatted for a few minutes before I made up some excuse that most likely translated into the usual “I’d rather go home and drink with my cats than with everyone here. I find them more intellectually stimulating and better company, but I’d like to be invited back because I enjoy some of the company for short periods of time so I’m being polite and lying.”  I quickly gave him my number and left to enjoy quality time with my cats.

            A week later Ray called and invited me to go have dinner and watch the next Lakers game. Honestly he was getting points so far, a date including basketball was a pretty good call. Friday night I walked to the Black Angus and got a table and ordered myself a beer. I like to arrive early so that I have the upper hand.

            I noticed as Ray walk in a few minutes later and asked the hostess for a table. I also noticed when he reached down with his left hand and made a slight rubbing movement with his hand directly on the side of his crotch. Alright we all have to make adjustments. I waved to get his attention and called him over.

“Hey what’s up? When did you get here?” He said as he crossed the room towards my table. Right before sitting down, right as he was talking to me in fact, with no shame at all – he made another full grab towards his crotch. This time was no small adjustment but an entire hands on, full palm grab using upward pulling motions to get a good grasp and pull. Lift and shake. 

I momentarily stuttered and pulled my eyes away with effort from the activity that was occurring right in front of me. Shaking my head a bit to wipe the slate clean like an etchi sketch. My first thought was that he was nervous. I quickly recovered and smiled “Oh, sorry what? Oh. I got here just a few minutes before you and figured I’d go ahead and get us a good table with a view of the TV. I would have ordered you a beer as well but I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for.” Other than something to distract you from your own private parts.

For the next ten minutes we made small talk and glanced at the menu to figure out our orders. When the waitress came around I ordered. Then Ray ordered. But something was distracting me again while he was ordering. I realized that below the table he was yet again making adjustments to himself. I watched as the waitress stopped writing and began to be distracted as well by what was going on under the table. I saw the corners of her mouth start to twitch before she quickly turned and walked away. Fast.

At this point I had gone beyond being shocked. Beyond thinking it was impolite. To just being curious. What exactly could be going on down there? Was he in desperate need of baby powder? Had he just realized that catching crabs didn’t need to be done while sea-born? A horrible rash? I had to think it was something serious. It couldn’t possibly just be bad manners at this point – I mean hadn’t his mother told him that wasn’t polite? Whatever it was, I didn’t want it that’s for sure.

For the next couple of hours I tried to focus more on the game occurring on the screen than the ball game occurring at my own table. I didn’t really eat much needless to say. The amount of attention that his private parts were getting was absolutely astonishing. I mean either he was in serious need of medical attention, or he thought he was really blessed. And it wasn’t just me that noticed either. Everyone noticed. A couple weeks later when I asked the same group of friends in a round about way – actually there is no round about way to say he grabbed his crotch constantly  - they all laughed and said it was hard not to have noticed, and that indeed it was a regular occurrence with him.

When the game was finally over, which I hadn’t even enjoyed even though the Lakers had  won, I quickly made an excuse to leave. Ray walked me out the door and then wanted to give me a ride home, I let him drop me off close to my friends. Before I got out of the car he started to make a move on me. Shocked, I looked at him and told him that apparently he was giving himself and his goods enough attention that I was certainly not needed. I also suggested he either keep a supply of powder in his car, or make an appointment with a doctor. 

In my opinion, what this man needed above anything else, was a mother that told him when his behavior was bad. Not to mention disgusting. Because apparently that parenting job had been foregone when he was a child. I’m barely capable of mothering my cats, and I’m not about to be a mother to a grown man. Bad behavior is just bad behavior and he was a project for another woman who wanted to practice her maternal skills.

“So that was that I concluded.”