It's Hollywood, after all.

Living in Hollywood has its perks; sunshine, run-ins with beautiful celebrities, great restaurants, and even better bars. But with its perfections come its flaws, and flawed they are… the people that is. More specifically, the men. Whether he’s an actor slash model, “in a band”, promotes parties, or “works in production”, one thing is for sure… he’s a self-absorbed characterless immature pathetic excuse for a man. Harsh? Maybe. Ok, yes. But here are my thoughts:

Why he’s self-absorbed: he’s living in LA to be somebody. Period. It doesn’t matter who he meets, he does not care about you. He doesn’t have any real friends, just some buddies from work. He will not stop talking about himself, where he’s traveled, and which celebs he had bottle service with. He probably doesn’t remember your name.

Why he’s characterless: he is a compilation of acting classes; sometimes he’s deep and methodical, sometimes he’s carefree and energetic. And sometimes he’s just… there. His lack of style doesn’t jive in LA so he’s adopted the hipster look; overpriced, overdone, over accessorized, yet... casual? He even grew facial hair to play the part. So who is he? Check his imdb, they probably know better than he does.

Why he’s immature: he’s not interested in a relationship. He’s not ready, too focused on his career, and is “just having fun”. He sleeps on a futon in his studio with a mini fridge full of beer. He doesn’t call/text and believes you should be the one to pursue him. Because you know, he’s worth it.

Why he’s a pathetic excuse for a man: ever hear of being a gentleman? No. This guy doesn’t treat you to dinner, he buys you a drink. Doesn’t open doors, he walks ahead of you. He’s always on his phone, texting, tweeting, bbming. He doesn’t compliment you, he asks you what you think of his new jacket. Pick you up? Forget it. You’re driving your ass to some dive bar in Santa Monica where he can prove to you he is, in fact, all of the above.

Like, Love, Hate. A short story.

Look at you; that outfit, that face, that voice. Drinks. Dinner. Champaign. Drinks. My place. I like you. From strangers to being inseparable. Be your girlfriend? Who are you? I don’t even know you. A run down of your past, your middle name, the meanings of your tattoos. Meet your mother? She didn’t seem to like me. You think you love me? I guess I love you too. Move in with you? Are you insane? It’ll be temporary. We’re going to get married anyway, why not? I love you. Can’t you pick up your socks? And the toothpaste in the sink…? Thanks for making dinner honey. I think you’ve had enough to drink. What do you mean you’re going out? Let’s talk tomorrow when you’re sober. I say these things because I love you. Who’s texting you at this hour? And why is she saying she misses you? Fine, it’s in the past. Let’s move on, together. Buy a house? But… well, I love you too. I lost my job. Wait, I’m being annoying? You’re never home! Who are you chatting with? It would be easier if I had a job? You said I didn’t have to work. Let’s take a vacation? NY? I had an amazing time. I love you. Who gave you this journal? She says you love her. It’s not mutual? This isn’t working. You’ll never talk to her again? Don’t cry. You’re sorry, I know. We’ll be fine. Work with you? I guess that’ll be fun. I’m a bitch? You’re a lying cheating asshole! You hated our NY trip? Well I hate you.

Dear (Personal) Space Invader,

Thank you for “researching” everything about me before our first date. You were so prepared you even answered all my questions with responses I would say. Like when I asked what type of music you listen to, you said Jazz. Jazz! And you even like Jamie Cullum, that’s my favorite artist! But you already knew that. Speaking of Jamie Cullum, thanks for finding tickets for me/us since they were sold out. It’s kind of weird that at the concert you didn’t know a single song he sang, or sway along to the music, or even smile for that matter. You must have been tired that night or something. Maybe that’s why when I said it was the best concert I had ever been to you seemed shocked, but later said it was the best you had seen too. Delayed reaction. Or maybe it was the double shot of Crown, straight up, that you had. Did you know Crown is my favorite drink? Oh you did? Well for “trying to get into whiskey” I guess it’s a good choice. It's too bad you couldn’t finish it, or even get half way through it for that matter.

What I thought was most impressive was when you told me you’re a foodie, because you know I love to try new restaurants/eat in general. It’s funny though, you couldn’t even name one restaurant in all of LA, so we drove around…. for an hour. Maybe there were just too many options.

To top it all off you even brought me the movie you recommended (and I said I’d get around to). I told you my bff has it and I’d borrow it from her, but you insisted. I said I’d get it on Netflix, but you insisted. I even said I didn’t know when I’d have time to watch it, or when/if I’d see you again, but… you insisted. You must really want me to see this movie.

Oh, and thanks for sending me the link to the company I’m interviewing with, even after I said I had already visited the site. Then for doing added research and telling me other people had negative experiences there, and it might not be worth my time. It’s nice that you had time at work to do all that searching.

Unfortunately I’m so sorry, but even though we apparently like exactly the same tv shows, movies, music, activities, sports, types of food, and now alcohol, I just don’t think it’s going to work out. Maybe I should stick to "opposites attract", or maybe you’re just crazy.

P.S. You might want to get your eyes checked, they kept staring, kind of wildly… it freaked me out.

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.

Worst. Date. Ever.

I was going to write a blog about my dating hiatus, but then I went on a date. And now I remember why I was on a hiatus....

First of all let me preface this with the fact that I've been putting this date off for weeks. "I'm not feeling well", "I just left the gym, I'm all sweaty", you name it, I said it. So finally I felt bad. But more importantly I needed to go out with this guy because he's well connected in this city and will be opening a new club (where I want VIP status) shortly.

Now on to the date. The day prior he texts that we should meet "around 3 or 4" so I plan my day around that. Come 2:00 he says "I'm training people, how about 5?" Ok, that's fine. So I get ready and he says "I'll be done around 5 or 6". Naturally he calls at 6 to say he's finished and asks where to meet me. Here's what happens:

"How about Bougeois Pig in Franklin Village?"

"Ummm I don't know where that is."

"Well do you know where Birds is?"

"Uhhh, no."

"Do you know where Franklin is?? Franklin and Gower?"

"Ummm... yeah. I mean, kind of, is it walkable?"

"It's like 10 blocks. But I would drive."
"Well I don't have a car, can you pick me up?"

"Uh, really? Well, no. I don't drive."

"Oh. Well I guess I'll have to catch a cab. You sure I can't walk it?"

"I mean, you can, it's up to you..."

"Well, um, I don't know, let me figure this out. I'll call you back"

Twenty minutes go by and I text him "are you ok? It's really only like 10 blocks..." He responds with "I'll meet you at 7:30". Seriously? More. Fucking. Waiting?

So 7:30 rolls by and he's sitting outside. Waiting. Smoking. He apologizes for the next 5 minutes and almost redeems himself. That is until he changes the subject... to himself. The next hour was all about name dropping, his party lifestyle, living in Vegas, crazy nights out and getting drunk until 6 am, how he loves clothing, and how he's sooooo busy. And, shocker, he was texting the entire time. He didn't even turn the volume off, it literally chimed every 30 seconds. But the best part was at the end of the hour when he picked up the phone (with no warning), called his friend, and asked if he wanted to go to dinner. Then he gets off the phone and asks if I'm ready to go. You have no idea buddy.

We get outside, he puts his arm around me, and walks me home because he's a "gentleman" as he says. Pffftttt. We say our goodbyes and he excitedly says we should get together soon while rattling off his weekly schedule. Yeah, ok.

Good night. Good bye. Get lost.

If you want me, come and get me

Guys are social morons. Ok, some are damn smooth, and I give them credit for being able to enchant the women they pursue with rhythmic compliments and witty banter. But for the rest of them... well, I'm torn between being annoyed and feeling sorry for them. Like a pathetic one-legged pigeon that, even though it probably carries the plague, you can't help but feel for the poor thing.

Which brings me to social skills, or lack thereof. I'll start with my favorite worst pick up lines of the past month:

"You have the cutest bugs bunny overbite."

"How old are you?"

"Are you two best friends? I can tell."

"Is that real leather?"

"You look like the innocent one, your friend is the bad one..."

See what I mean? Boys. But more so I'm concerned with those men who can not, for the life of them, hold conversations or follow through.

For example, the guy who calls me at 7:30 and leaves no message. In reply I text that I'm in a movie and ask "what's up?". He then proceeds to see what my plans are and asks if we can get together. I agree, and when the movie ends I text to let him know I'm done. Twenty minutes later he says he wants to "kick it" and I reply in agreement. Half an hour later I get a message saying "Not sure if anythings fun tonight everybody is dead from new years". And I, clearly taking the lead, say "We don't have to go to a club, we can always just get drinks somewhere". Fifteen minutes later, nothing. So I finish it up by saying "Ok. Nevermind. You can just say no, but I'm pretty sure you were the one who asked me out." Another fifteen minutes and some lame message about getting his car from somewhere comes through and he'll call me in a bit. By this time it's 11:45 and I'm over it. "Sorry, going to bed". Better luck next time kid.

So this leaves me with three questions:

1) Why ask me out if you're just going to flake out at the moment of truth?

2) Is he technologically inept and can't comprehend leaving voicemails and texting replies?

3) Is he so socially awkward that leaving a voicemail frightens him to the point of indigestion and cold sweats? While texting takes a good 15 minutes to write a rough draft, proof read, correct spelling, and finally send?

If you want me, come and get me. It's easy. Just do it. Period. The end.

Opinions are more than welcome because I'm not used to this bullshit.

And so it goes...

Why... hello. It's been a while. What is the occasion for my return you ask? Oh you didn't ask? Well I have something to write about so keep reading.

We.
Broke.
Up.

Plain and simple. On our 6 month anniversary nonetheless. And to top it all off I am moving to LA... tomorrow. I had 3 days to ship out. Not the most exciting move, but a good one I'm hoping. On to bigger and better things (that's what they say at least). So, I guess we'll see what happens...

I'm so sorry in advance, LA.