The American Riviera isn’t dating paradise
When I was growing up, dangerous behavior was having unprotected sex. Now it’s going on an Internet date without seeing a picture first. I’m bored and living dangerously in Santa Barbara.
I subscribe to the girl’s-gotta-drink rule, so meeting for a coffee is the easiest date out there. Barney was too late to buy my $3 herbal tea, but we did enjoy 70 minutes of good conversation with overlapping interests. We walked to our cars, kissed on the cheeks, hugged out, booked another date soon, and waved goodbye.
By the time I got home, a coworker texted to see how ugly he was. I told her it was a good time and he looked like Alan Arkin with cool glasses. “Is his name Barney?” she asked.
Welcome to Santa Barbara dating overlap which I expect happens to the two dozen straight single people 40+ that live here. What is funnier is my friend has been divorced for 60 days and just started dating again. But I guess we shouldn’t feel bad, a 32 year-old male coworker told me he now dates in Los Angeles for the same reasons.
Time to put the Honda in for a tune-up and go back to what I know: the wide variety of fruits, nuts, and flakes that is the City of Angels.