I can’t believe
When you are a young boy, from what I hear, you hate to be called cute. Puppies are cute. You want to be hot, which is more desirable. Well, as a girl/woman, there’s something worse than cute. We hate to hear the phrase, “You are so ____. I can’t believe you aren’t married.”
I had my first date of the new year on Saturday. Yeah, I know I’ve given up on dating in Los Angeles, but once in a while they’ll find me and ask me out. I had nothing to lose and, at the end of the day, a girl’s gotta drink. When David agreed to meet me at a bar four blocks from my house, it was a no brainer.
He was your typical cougar hunter: 35 and petite. I generally like my men to have thighs bigger than mine, but this is L.A. where emaciated metrosexuals are in the majority. I learned quickly that making small talk with an Israeli was going to be hard. I felt like I needed a translator. He’d been out here for nine years but still managed to keep a thick accent.
I did hear loud and clear one of his questions. “You are so cute. I don’t understand why you aren’t taken.” I kept my composure mainly because I’ve been asked this a bazillion times.
“You’ve lived here nine years, so I think you can answer that question easily. It is hard to date here, right? It is hard to meet genuine people, right? It is rare to meet anyone with an advanced degree. And it is very hard to meet anyone that truly wants a long-term committed relationship. That’s why I prefer to be single and focus on my career than be a traitor to my own standards,” I responded.
The date ended shortly thereafter, both of us tired from struggling to find conversation points and any common ground. We hugged out, I thanked him for my beers, and I walked home to my dog – my real committed relationship