Dont Mince Words

In the mail on Monday, I received one of those friendly reminders from the local Honda dealership telling me that it was probably time to change oil.  I realized I didn’t come close to hitting their high mileage estimate.

I have become the little old lady of West Hollywood.  Being laid off, there are days my car doesn’t move.  When it does, it is usually to drive to happy hour to met my other laid off friends, or to give Tex a courtesy ride.  I’m averaging 300 miles per month.  That’s just crazy low mileage in this town.  And it is empirical evidence that I don’t have much of a life.

I changed that immediately by adding the FourSquare app to my iPod.  I realize I’m a hypocrite for advising clients to get involved with geolocation apps and not participating myself.  What I didn’t anticipate is the motivation FourSquare can provide to get out of the apartment.  I’ve got check-in’s all over my neighborhood and I am now the Mayor of my apartment building and I’ve been awarded an Adventurer badge because I get out a lot.   I know it is all bullshit, but it is like a Weight Watcher’s weigh-in.  It’s all the motivation I need to feel like I’m making a change in my life.

Today is four square day (4×4 = 16).  It’s like Pi day except the math is so much easier and there’s drinking involved.  Check-ins at The Standard get two-for-one drinks.  The Viper Room has more FourSquare specials:  no cover, cheap drinks, and PBR swag.

I have said many times I don’t do anything unless it gets me a job or gets me laid.  Right now, getting out of the apartment is the first step.

Check-in.  Check me out.

This is probably just me. My little problem, you know, because I was born before 1980. But when a help wanted/job ad says “profitable online startup,” that is not a positive selling point to me. It’s about as appealing as a partner telling me their Valtrex copay is only $5.

With my focus on my career, I’m sure you were worried that I’d never write about guys or dates again. Not to worry, this is Los Angeles, so there’s always going to be a story. I just haven’t had the time to write this one.

Houston (let’s call him that instead of nutless) and I met online in mid-July and began dating immediately. He was one of those Type A planners who would book three dates in a week. In fact, I mentioned to him that his frequency was outstanding and unlike the 1x/week LA guy mentality. “I know what I like and I go for it,” was his answer.

So, we went out to dinner, we played tennis, we saw movies and shows, we went to concerts and parties. We did stuff. He even took me and my dog to a four-star hotel weekend getaway. Somewhere in the middle of all this, I got laid off. We went out less. He called and emailed less. But I wasn’t really paying attention because I was focused on the job thing and getting out to network.

Our last date was a business dinner with some of his ad reps, one of whom commented on what a cute couple we were. I never heard from him after that night. The guy who pitched himself as the nicest guy I’d ever meet did the fade out on me. Had I been more alert, I would of seen this coming and beat him to the dump.

“Are you sure he didn’t have a medical emergency and just couldn’t call you? He was older, after all,” said a friend. “No, he’s alive because he posted a marketing job on craig’s list,” I explained. “Gosh, don’t you want to understand what happened?” she asked.

Not necessary, is it? He was under the 90-day LA trial relationship period. He demonstrated by his actions that he couldn’t nut up and dump me proper. That’s alright, he had republican tendencies and poor musical taste. All I can say is…. Celine Dion? Really? That’s my closure.