So.
I'm single again.
My last girlfriend and I, we'd just celebrated out 1st anniversary when the "excrement hit the air conditioning unit", as Kurt Vonnegut once so eloquently put it. Not that there hadn't been signs.
Anyways, we "broke up" and it didn't end very well. I'll spare the details, but it wasn't good for my ego.
The trouble is, finding a girlfriend--no, the right girlfriend--is not the easiest thing in L.A. You go out, you meet girls, and you have to figure out quickly, first and foremost, how FAR they live. I don't know if you've tried this, but dating someone who lives in Burbank when you live in the West Side (That's West of the 405, really), is damn near impossible. Imagine driving an hour and a half to meet for a date. Sounds good? Me neither.
Then there is where you go to meet a girl. I went out the other night with friends to The Colony, a Hollywood bar that, last time I went, had Playboy Playmates partying there. Sounds fun, right? This time, it was Self-Conscious City: Every. Damn. Person. Looked good, looked polished and tan and sexy. The guys looked like they had money, and the girls huddled up and fished for the top prize. It was a meat market, and there was so much hormones and attitude, it felt forced and fake. People danced the way people dance now, by pumping their fist in the air and jumping up and down.
The dance floor for me is usually my comfort zone, my happy place where I can be myself and have fun. I feel confident and usually it shows. I've met lots of girls there, and of course, results are mixed (Inversely, I'm sure any girls could relate)---you just don't know who you will meet.
On this particular night, I connected with a beautiful latina that I had spotted when my friend dropped a drink at her feet. She thought it was me, I apologized and oh by the way would you like a drink? My French buddy's girlfriend came to the bar with as a sidekick, and was helpfully trying to get the conversation going ("Oh, you like going to Vegas?"--and to me: "Tell her you love Vegas, you want to go there next week!!". But I never liked Vegas, so I don't want to make a big show of pretending I do.).
THIRTY dollars later (2 very alcoholic drinks!), we are moving back to the dance floor where we join up with her group of BFFs. They are standing in a semi-circle, and instinctively I start dancing into their circle, flirtatious-but-in-a-I-don't-care-way. Only, one of her friend doesn't want me there, and is wagging her finger in my face. Her attitude says "I don't think so, white boy. This is a girl's night". I smile, shrug and step back, before my curvaceous Latina friend makes like "He's OK". But I am not welcome, here.
I ended up eying another very cute girl--like a pin-sized Salma Hayek--who was dancing better than the other girls (a BIG plus for me), and sided up with her, but she was being shy; once again my sidekick literally took my hand and put it on this girl's hips, and we were dancing close. We ended up chatting for ten minutes outside while she smoked a cig (BIG negative!), and then we danced some more, and kissed for a bit. However, I had realized we probably wouldn't take it much further (She lives in Glendale, hardly showed any personality, and looks latin but has little to do with the culture--doesn't speak Spanish, for one).
By the end of the evening, I reverted back to hanging with my friends, and even danced with some cool African guys, not giving a shit anymore about finding a girl. I decided that I would stop paying $20 for the privilege to wait 20 minutes outside, to go inside and get all kinds of attitude and have the privilege to pay $65+ in drinks, and not have a lot of fun along the way. What a bunch of pretentious bullshit.
My new theory is I'm going to find "the right girl" somewhere else, at a library, at a friend's party, or a holistic crystal reading even but NOT a shitty Hollywood club.
