the LA Brush-off

(I may just start my own mating dance)

In Los Angeles dating, tread lightly.  Don't take anyone or anything seriously.  Everyone here is in pursuit of a dream, whether it be acting or art, music, writing, or sport.  They are all the pride and joy of their small town, and come to the Big City, with a population of low brow drama teachers rallying behind them.  They save all of their money and arrive bright eyed and full of ambition.

So No One will get in their way.  No one can be a priority over their Big Deal, and everyone here has a Big Deal.  In addition, attraction overfloweth.  Gorgeous faces and bodies thrust themselves into your view at every coffee shop, printer store, gym, and restaurant.  There's always someone more beautiful, charismatic, or with more 'industry contacts'.  Woof.

So the inevitable result is that you make a connection, you are taken with each other's newness and possibility.  You dance for two weeks..... and then, he....just.......disappears.  Literally (say it in a British accent when reading this) drops off the face of the planet.  No calls, text, voicemails.  No smoke signals, fruit baskets, carrier pigeons.  Pony Express just clomping past your door, day after day.

Well what happened?  Another Someone, or another Big Deal.  It's not like I was in love; but I am starting to wonder when it's appropriate to just go ahead and file that Missing Persons Report.

The second part of this observation is the story of the One on Orbit.  I got the LA brush off, but then this guy kept cycling around every 3 weeks.  Disappears, gone, then reemerges like Lazarus from the tomb; all innocent and casual.  Well, I'm INNOCENT AND CASUAL.  So I didn't make a big deal of it.  We're young and free!  We don't have to be bogged down with common courtesies and polite truths!  So I entertained the revolve.

But I got tired, annoyed, and a sudden burst of self-esteem.  I knew that I was just distracting myself and that this was pretty pathetic.  I hadn't heard from this guy for almost a month, despite our last encounter being pretty intense and SO I DELETED HIS NUMBER.  I deleted all of the text messages, any recent dials, any trace of him from my mobile device.  I would have had to call At&T for my phone records in order to contact this person again.  I felt empowered, proud and self-contented.  I smiled to myself as I put my phone down and set out for my day.  I briefly considered wearing a cape for being such a feminist hero.

Guess who texts 90 minutes later?

How did he know?!
I tell you what, it's a lot harder to delete that number the second time.  Eye roll.