Dear My Los Angeles Native,

When they say people from LA are crazy, I'm pretty sure you were the one who set the bar. In 3 hours you managed to tell me your entire life story, in great detail. I mean, who needs a little mystery anyway, right? But just so I don't miss anything here's a little recap:

- You were in a gang
- You were a rapper
- You were arrested for assault with a deadly weapon
- You were stabbed 6 times in the stomach
- You were in and out of jail for months
- Your ex put a hit on you with a rival gang
- You were a big time meth and cocaine dealer
- You were addicted to meth
- You lost everything and became homeless
- You got back on your feet by selling drugs again
- You cleaned up your act and became a Big Brother and started your own charity
- You're a banker by day
- You're a club promoter by night

Did I miss anything? Probably.

I don't know if "not my type" sums up my feelings well enough. Maybe more like "hesitant/put off/terrified for my life".

I'm so sorry, but I just can't see myself bringing you home to mother. But thank you, for a lovely evening.

P.S. I love like saw the tattoo of Los Angeles on your arm. It looked... just like it.