Dancing with the fools
It’s that time of year when the tops come up on the prickmobiles and single men in Los Angeles realize they don’t want to be alone for the holidays. I call it boomerang season.
Michael, the 48 year-old margarita puker, contacted me to see if I’d be interested in a second date nearly eight months after our first date. He “missed” me and claimed he had tackled his personal problems and was ready to date again.
I don’t think so.
Alex, a computer programmer, was also known as “A Tale of Two Starbucks.” We never met on our first date because we ended up at different Starbucks on Ventura. He contacted me five months later to see if he could finally meet me. Once again, an unavailable man wants to see if I can be available for him.
I don’t think so.
Henry, a bipolar former gynecologist, and I stopped dating nearly two years ago after I realized he enjoyed playing to the whiny Jew stereotype. He sent me an email to which I responded with general niceties. His response was, “I really wished you had called me instead of emailed.” This is another example of a man in LA that wants to be chased.
I don’t think so.
My trifecta of fools makes me wonder. If you get what you give, why are all these losers coming back for more? Is it a lasting first impression or a simple black book random dial?
I’m going into winter dating hibernation. No more boomerangs.