Dating in L.A., more often than not, is not entirely unlike surviving the 405. It basically makes you want to just drive right off the road rather than actually driving to where you want to go. But you still try and merge into whatever lane looks like it’ll have you at the desired destination fastest. Problem is, when you finally successfully set yourself up in said lane, it comes to a complete standstill and you’re left to try and merge into another. So you turn up your radio or talk on your cell to block out the outside drama. But that distraction only serves to introduce you to the next near-death experience, which is pretty much what happens when you listen to several different friends’ dating advice. Someone tells you to play hard to get, another tells you to tease, and before you know it you’re left with whiplash from all the emotional extremes. Too bad a chiropractor can’t tweak you back as easily from this as after a five car pileup. Then, just as you’re sure the only thing left to do is turn off the engine and leave your car stranded in the middle of this ferocious freeway altogether, you see a really cute guy in the car next to you. So you speed up, slow down, try and find the right pace, and it begins again. Or at least it keeps you going until the next time you want to crash and burn.
So listen, I have a lot of hobbies: krav maga, ice skating, eating, and rationalizing for dudes I should care less about. Well I have recently come to realize that this behavior is completely unacceptable, and clearly, a guy I have to justify for is simply not worth it. I tell my friends the same BS all the time. The whole rant about independent women, you’re too good for him, he thinks flannel is the new black….and hello! If I just took my own advice I’d be a damn prophet! So my New Year’s resolution in July (because let’s face it – one resolution is NEVER enough) is to stop rationalizing for the various starving artists I fall for and drop them like they’re hot. Strength is the new black (because hello, unless you’re living in Seattle – flannel is NOT). Thus, the excuse “my phone died,” is no longer a valid form of date avoidance, and certainly not for the sole purpose that Mr. Clueless thinks it’s too late to make plans and is hoping you’ll just GPS yourself right over to his house instead of going through the hassle. Well let me tell you – I’d rather sit in 405 rush hour traffic in order to get to some g-d forsaken dive’s happy hour in lieu of making monsieur’s make-out wishes come true. So, in conclusion, things no longer on my list of things to do include being understanding for said lame excuses, in addition to deleting numbers like it’s going out of style. Queen was clearly before their time when they said “Another One Bites the Dust” – or maybe they were just dating in Hollyweird.