Tinder: Part 3

       Four years since its initial launch, the app that changed online and offline dating has become commonplace among the social media giants. You may have noticed a change in the way users approach this modern social experiment. From the indiscriminate right swiper and hook-up seekers to miner's bent on finding "something real", your approach to narrowing the field is dictated by quick judgments. At times I've questioned how many profiles are actually backed by real users and certainly had my doubts about the investment in messaging someone who will likely become a ghost upon discovering my modest height or inability to fund a weekly sushi night.
   
     Originally I saw the superficial selector to favor men who could hide behind a photo facade, safe to heckle and cat call the few brave women willing to endure their filth. Over time however, I've grown to see the subtle sinister ways Tinder and dating apps like it have given women a coarse upper hand. While normally I'd consider a slant toward female users as a just handicap to offset the vile behavior of predatory men, that in itself supports a gender bias that comes from my confidence that men can overcome a disadvantage women cannot. Without explicitly pitting the sexes against each other I do believe dating finds good women at odds with bad men and good men at odds with bad women.

     While anonymity has been claimed as a tool for evil by many men more accurately described as trolls, traditional dating holdouts such as an expectation that the man should pay, have their own place in the destruction of modern dating. These conventional expectations have combined with the Tinder method of dating strangers to yield a less than desirable experience for both parties. Whether it's a 60 year old elephant man hidden beneath Abercrombie jpegs or a twenty-something "brand ambassador" scheduling dinner dates in lieu of grocery shopping we have a serious problem if Tinder signals the future of dating.

Mirror Mirror

     When I began this blog, many close to me offered their support and encouragement, seemingly convinced I'd thrown in the towel as passive-aggressively as possible. Truthfully though, this isn't about dating or even the increasingly disconnected pool that Los Angeles affords. Modern courtship has certainly changed since my parents met, way back before one could hide their flaws behind a handful of good hair day selfies. But the changes we've seen have less to do with the proliferation of dating apps or relaxed standards that accept Netflix and chill as a reasonable second date offering. Instead I propose we're in the middle of a character shift that applies to anyone with access to internet.

     Steven Johnson's "How We Got To Now" identifies mirrors as one of the prime reasons the western world saw an increase of individualism in the late 19th century. As the advent of more durable and affordable glass mirrors put self reflection in the hands of common people we began to see the world with our own image foremost in mind. A simple mirror may seem insignificant but the psychology behind this shift can't be ignored. Our priorities and focus in life are directly affected by what or who is in front of our eyes. Similar to the impact mirrors have had on modern society, the internet continues to drive our focus inward albeit through promises of connection to others.

     The vast network of people connected globally through the web has been a boon for most industries and started countless new businesses, but it's the personal value that drives the technology forward. While marketing generally thrives on the selfishness of consumers we don't want to feel like we're feeding our self-centric cravings so every new feature is presented as an opportunity to connect with others. In reality we buy more products as they are targeted specifically to individual profiles, read news that supports our perspective without regard for its questionable integrity and post more pictures of our own faces everyday. The computer in your hand is greater than the fabled Magic Mirror and capable of supporting our grandest delusions without fear anyone else will be displayed more fair.

Doggie Dating: Part 2

     Sometimes I brake and coast through traffic at 4pm, confident the slow lane is advancing faster than the others. In the back seat she climbs unsuspected and like an amateur sheds enough hair in five minutes to clothe a family of Eskimos. Her antics will cost an hour of vacuuming as we creep toward Rosie's Dog Park in Long Beach, still hopeful to enjoy some sun before the early winter smog-set at 4:30pm. I remember happily our first visit to the dog beach. Gentle lake like swells eased Paola into the joy that is playing fetch in the waves. A handful of patient people shared their tennis balls as she would out-sprint their dogs knocking down children who got in her way. Bringing a puppy to the ocean for the first time in LA is more work than it is pleasure, so was it a mistake to make a date of it too?
   
     For someone who considered nine dog-less years to be downright unnatural I was happy to finally bring home a shelter mutt for my own last year. On one hand are the compromises and expenses associated but the benefits cannot be counted. Besides the obvious, companionship and the irrational devotion a dog extends to their owner, I've found there are many additional perks that come with dog adoption. Not least of these is the puppy-fication of a dating profile. It's impossible to calculate the increase in value a dog brings to your picture. So many swipers confess to the phenomenon in their bios or initial messages it's tempting to exclude oneself from the picture and just let Paola take the wheel.
   
     Salt and sand stuck to everything as we trudged back to the car. Failing for the first time to overthink this one I felt confident. Another critter there to distract me may have done more good than I could've anticipated and we drove back. Beach Boys radio on Pandora did not disappoint and a slow crawl home lulled my four-legged friend to sleep in the back seat. We pulled up to her apartment and before leaving she kissed me. On cue Paola pushed between us for her own sloppy send off and it felt perfect in that flawed way only reality can. I can't pretend to know why we never went out again despite my efforts and a reason was never given. Trying to learn something from every experience will drive you crazy though, especially when they don't make sense. Sometimes great memories and a happy puppy are enough.
   

Thanksgiving Misgivings

     A foam football soaks in the deep end of a leafy pool as my nephews and I precariously reach for it the fifth time. Various sports fill every corner of a 100" screen and the pie table nearby sees early action before dinner is served. Kids young and old congregate before a Toy Story marathon to hear the rules for a new board game. Newlyweds share stories with family eager to support them as they breach new territory in need of wisdom. Grandpa makes the announcement and everyone shuffles out to the lawn for a photo before dusk. Perched again on the pool's edge I wonder how many of these I'll take alone. I see my siblings and cousins pair up year after year through this lens. With the frame always expanding to accommodate I shout directions so the tiny faces in the back don't block themselves behind big hair and cousins who've grown too tall for the front row.
   
     On the drive to Simi Valley my mind wanders back to previous photographs. We've seen some come and go, insets made for those who couldn't be there. Small ones fill in the gaps between us and Facebook wonders who to tag. I've seen longtime standers graduate to a chair and little new-comers stand on their own for the first time. My family is changing rapidly and it's harder and harder to find myself kneeling in the front row solo, but that's where I am. When I first moved to Burbank after graduation I couldn't relate to new friends who said LA was a lonely city or the friendsgiving families who couldn't drive an hour home as I could. With time I've grown to understand and the stretch from Halloween to New Years now seems to last longer than the rest of the year.

     Years transform families and as they fray and refresh we begin to see what makes our own unique. Love seems to work well if growth is the goal and judgement also very effective when looking to divide. How family is defined for me also changes every year. When I was young I thought it meant one thing and as an adult that became less important to me. My own life and career took precedent pushing family into holiday boxes where I could check in once in a while. The definition is changing again and I don't know what it means right now, but I can't wait to take next year's picture.

Nobody Relates Anymore, They Never Did.

    Hey everybody. Sorry about that break. When you step outside and ask yourself what today has to offer, it's reasonable to assume you should've had a plan before leaving home. The name of the game is game plan and what we really reject upon first sight isn't features or forthcoming details begging for our refusal, the first thing we see is whatever we want to see. Whoever you're intrigued by is a product of your own imagination. I'm not bringing this from some misguided place of pondering but the honesty it takes to exclude myself from the equation. When you begin to recognize that everyone brings a backstory and yours is only a diversion, you're ready to meet someone where they're at. The problem is he or she is likely in another place of their own device. I wish I could ignore our current political climate but it illustrates the point beyond anything more familiar.

     So many close to me felt the surge of adrenaline and abrupt confusion brought on by the fact that losing feels more significant than any of the previous victories. Liberal fears of a mysteriously uncouth candidate elect should stir the conservative bones in everybody bent on denying the leadership thoughts in minds of men even half as hateful. Unfortunately our fears and confusions result in chaos and what you see makes more sense than what you cannot. I have no hope to offer my fearful friends, the time is to be better spent with fools now, too excited to see their pull may be thwarted by simple suggestion. As strange as it sounds I do encourage it though, the dice occasionally fall in favor of the wicked and more often when support comes from the well intentioned right. 

     Many plan for heavy drinking and short term goals of denying reality. These are well to be planned as weekend distractions but work will come soon. If you spend your life searching for someone like you, you'll find yourself in a world unrelatable. Your own ideas will bend to accommodate the averages around you. I'm not suggesting conflict but rather accepting it and want to encourage the dating to stand firm in your beliefs. No one wants to fall in love only to find you voted for a monster. 

Rejection & Pity

     Absolutely convinced, she walked out and anxiously directed her Lyft driver to the ungoogleable side-street. Three turns short of an Austin Powers sequel he arrived in time to find her awkwardly engaged by the last Tinder date she'd ever have. His words sounded offensive and reminiscent of construction cat calls or the odd shouting of a drunken racist as he watches the Olympics. She left to rid her life of the garbage represented by image driven connections to men online. She deleted the app again for the last time and opened the ice cream-less freezer, thankful for the maliciously sober decisions bent on depriving her maligned self from picking at fresh scabs.

     When she woke the memory of things gained was lost amidst heaps of confusing abrasion. Everything she could remember about the would-be suitor repulsed her and sparked an internal conversation bent on getting to the bottom of modern attraction. She couldn't stand the idea that a confident woman in the new millennium would feel the need to be bound to a man. Historically marriage placed women and their dowry on par with peace, a concept as speech-worthy as it is inapplicable in the Middle East.

    To be pitied however is quite painful. A friend who rejoices in the fact that they can never be you, is a crack in the wall of the 8 ft pool you call your life. A few summer parties in tubes and bikinis leaks to a solitary forty year old skateboarder shredding apart property values. Pity wins when compared to rejection though. To be pitied assumes you had potential to do better. When a woman rejects you the whole world joins in. Rejection either demands a pitiable person emerge or someone never worthy of acceptance in the first place. 

The Eyes of the Beholder

     His pockmarks deflected her gaze like uncredited fists from Bruce Lee's comfort zone. Confident in his sharp whit and chivalrous nature Matt could command a room and have all the ladies laughing. He couldn't keep them from admiring any other man though, unblemished and dull as they may be. Rock idols with filthy blonde strands leaking down to heroin scarred landscapes were once identified as sex symbols and the gritty black and white jacket photos inspired him. Something so great like the tide of tones or just the draw of fame might overcome even the most heinous of physical deterrents.

     She blamed her glasses for repeated nights of Dancing with the Stars and prayed the irritation wouldn't keep those hazels from contacting attention at her cousin's wedding this Sunday. Emily accused her body type for the ill-fitting dress she settled on after two hours of work in the mirror and drove like a demon on God's good side cross county lines for a last minute entrance as the procession began. Envy crept in on cue but she kept her tight smile and hugged new family and victorious rival alike with no hope but to see greener grass when her day comes.

     They won't meet. Even if they did, they are not right for each other. She defines her own attraction but not without the help of every idol photographed and presented to her in line at Vons or on billboards lining her daily crawl to work. He's not interested because she doesn't meet his Buzzfeed manufactured standard. Sadly she is far out of his league even if he was interested, but he'll never stoop so low to discover how far beyond appearances human connection can dwell. 

Plus Ones Suck

     Their celebration of love cemented by vows and tax forms played out a classy chorus under typically perfect Ventura county weather. I can't help but be proud of them, she a sweet girl impossibly matched and he made us forget what they were ever like apart. If marriage released its flagship model complete with Bluetooth, reverse camera and seat warmers, this was it. But amidst the  fog of new nuptials, candid toasts and keg explosions I sat with my sister wondering what was next. As much as I want to take joy in the success of my friends and family, it's always painful leaving the plus one box empty on satin stationary.

     In fact my answers are always the same, yes I'll be attending alone and pumped for the chicken. While buddies slap my back suggesting single bridesmaids can cure the blank space blues it's difficult to ignore the constant reminders of your relationship status. Relegated to the singles table we took the opportunity to catch up and bonded over our inability to share a funny honeymoon story prompted by table decorations. An hour later I was happy to see my sister dancing with the best man but I knew no amount of wine could move my feet with family watching.

     Of course the pressure to marry is great when you walk past gowns and babies with a girlfriend on your arm. The tension can be like showing up to Indianapolis in a go cart with Pennzoil plastered to the side and the moment you yank the starter cord her dad's going to scan the crowd for a proper suitor. But my sympathy is with the lonely who have no opportunity to fail. A wedding may be their chance to wine and dance the groom's sister into a stupor but at the end of the night she still lives in Phoenix and you're not sure grandma's introduction qualifies as "Our Story" material.

   

Small Talk Blows

     Native Alaskans probably have no idea how strange their childhood was. Surrounded by enough trucks and guns to make a Texan envious they enjoy endless wilderness uninhibited by power lines and billboards day and night through the summer. If the Northern Lights feel as remarkable as an episode of Wheel of Fortune your birth place is objectively interesting. Unfortunately, most of us come from regular towns in regular counties surrounded by supremely regular and obnoxiously straight border lines. Trying to prod a stranger with the same questions only to get the same answers makes engaging a first date in small talk a painfully banal experience, similar to inputting your email and password twelve times a day or watching baseball on tv.
   
     It is possible to fall for someone without knowing which Springfield they're from, what irrelevant degree they're still paying off or how they spend their binge hours guessing which Game of Thrones cast member will die next. The art of creative conversation is practiced by many but only properly wielded by the few willing to risk skipping formalities in search of character. There are those who will dodge any effort to connect with someone in an attempt at humor. While this may lend itself to a good gab down the bar, it robs both people of the chance to know who they're talking to. Comedy may be the primary attribute people respond to on a first date but it can serve as a mask for true feelings.

     If small talk is like filling in a child's coloring book then discussions about religion and politics is certainly Sistine chapel material. Avoiding the awkward yes and no questioning brought on by a justifiable lack of preparation can lead to topics we're passionate about. While there's nothing wrong with making a lasting connection over a mutual disgust for Donald Trump or bonding together in an effort to share your common faith in an over seas mission, there's typically a time and place for these discussions and a first date might not be the best place for it. Whatever you do to avoid the boilerplate discussion doomed to evade your memory the next day, mean what you say and remember to listen at least half the time.

   
   

Anywhere but Here

     Nashville found us relaxing with Titans and Tennesee locals alike. Fireside we heard stories about standup stints and advice on solid business investments like parking lots and public storage. Her house opened to us after meeting only the night before. Her friends were friendly and her animals abundant, even the chickens were woken to meet me. I'm not sure why anything happens at the time, why good or bad or the curious blend sweep us up with no explanations. Sometimes like this one, I can see purpose without any clues to validate it. Then my eagerness to look back with thankfulness upon a completed picture beats the desire to control an odd swirl of events intent on pushing me from my comfort zone.

     He believed me when I said he had no idea how hard it was. Settling into a cultural swarm like LA as a young married couple is challenging in its own ways, like crossing the Snake River into a new world dependent only on your wagon's worth, minus maybe the threat of consumption. What they did have was each other and the very real benefit of already finding that somewhere else. So when I told him that nothing happens organically in Tinsel Town he took my word for it. After a few days though we had multiple examples, from backyard bonfires to sweet southern invites to the Waffle House following a long work day.

     I wish I could say her hospitality felt natural but it was so foreign to me I couldn't help but wonder why. In the city where kings and queens are chosen overnight and by merits not listed in fables or sung about on Sundays her behavior would be suspect. Like a well structured script we know each other's intentions by the end of the first act and no good deed goes unpunished. I've enjoyed Midwestern honesty and Southern reception, enough to know she had something else. Her Western roots went where they had to when needy competitors lined up for rejection and the other like-minded humanists were anywhere else engaged in real conversations. I look forward to seeing her again, anywhere but here.

Age Gap

    Dan's instagram took heavy fire that night from a barrage of trolls, still caked in soot after crawling out from beneath their bridges aflame. Provoked apparently, by his confident bliss to be engaged untraditionally to an older woman, they sought to inform him of his folly. Their comments did little more to slow his passion than a child's castle wall would to a tidal wave, and really he wondered how many out there forfeit love at the cost of normalcy. Of course with talent behind the camera, Dan's followers soon out-numbered his friends and along with the hoards will come the lonely cur. Bent on ravishing those close targets so riddled a bull no longer returns the satisfying ring it once did, they fail to see their own hope could exist in the same spot they place their rage.

     Of course she was encouraged in her twenties to follow stability and the cool maturity of a life insurance policy holder. His years nearly doubled hers and for each gray hair of his she had an uncrushed dream to follow. Their compatibility seemed to have more to do with a culture dependent on uneducated mothers than it did with the needs of either partner. Though now she dates in a more accepting climate, as a mere ten years his senior they draw judgemental looks when they dine out. Inattentive servers comment on the sweet gesture of a son to join his mother for dinner. His friends can't take him seriously and place his happiness beyond the gauntlet of derisive humor.

     We don't always know our own loves when we see them, if love is blind then first sight is a fantasy. How then can we judge another by the impossible standards we hope no one will hold up for us? The couple finds themselves in a type of human zoo. Encased in glass and concrete their friends, family and even strangers study them. Perhaps they should listen to the drunken scoffs from behind the glass. It's easy to see uniformity as satisfying and the safety of precedent when that uniformity falls for a younger mate. After all a relationship in isolation can't be healthy and support comes from the outside. Yet if your heart belongs to someone on the same side of the glass, does it matter who is visiting and who is on display?

Dude Looks Like A Lady

     Rife with pitfalls despite one's best intentions, the subject of gender identity is becoming increasingly relevant in and out of the public restroom. It's difficult to tell anymore whether we have a legitimate divide on ethics or if we simply thrive on lambasting those with practical concerns that differ from our own. Optimistically I choose to believe most fall somewhere in the middle, regardless if the most vocal of us insist on drawing lines in sand. Those who have any business in the matter seem to share the same desire at the end of the day, privacy.

     Naturally one of the significant goals on the progressive express is removing the traditional binary categorizations we use to define people. In many ways these distinctions have betrayed our privacy all along, allowing others to prejudicially categorize us and facilitating sexism. Although, how else would someone justifiably take action based on romantic feelings if the sexual orientation of their attractor were a mystery to them? Chris is careful who she allows to get close to her, turning down ill-fitting prospects with haste. Unfortunately she judges by the same criteria used to judge her and may unknowingly reject someone with expectations inline with her own.

     Sexual orientation is an intensely private matter regardless how many casual jokes are dependent on assumptions about one's present company. Relationships based on non-sexual connections like common interests and shared perspectives statistically last longer than those motivated by pregnancy or an open space in the trophy case. How then do we reconcile the two, when sexuality is so closely linked to a general affinity for another person? To be blunt we've never taken kindly to the unprovoked, unsolicited, aggressive action of "whipping it out" and award sex offender status for those moronically brazen enough to do so, but to his/her credit we've all made a decision with ample evidence to support it.
   

Feminist Rulebook

     We shared many cryptic conversations over the course of our work together. Was it insulting when I asked her to dinner before she could ask? Had she been waiting for the right time or completely disinterested? I felt I knew where she stood, a confident and accomplished woman who's contempt for men never seemed to eliminate her desire to be with one. Pitiful at recognizing signals, I was drawn by the common grass envy of wanting what I couldn't have only to find my conflicting feelings were reciprocated. She claimed to know me and her unfavorable comparisons to previous relationships highlighted our inability to see eye to eye.

     Seeking the advice of married men is useless. They find themselves miles from the subtleties of dating and how it's changed since their non-HD wedding videos were the most expensive DVD they'd ever purchased. When they come out with practical applications it can be difficult to sort out which are mysoginist attempts at humor and which are the sordid yet effective means to manipulate the societally-inflicted insecurities many women carry. There are however, plenty of well knotted gentlemen with helpful advice, advice related to maintaining a relationship I've struggled to find a beginning to. When it comes to the magic that led to their marriage though, they seem to have a loss for words. 

     A married woman's advice is not much better unfortunately. If anyone could shed light on the new rules you'd expect a working woman with her husband home buried beneath Cheerios and dryer sheets. Likely she saw what she wanted and took it, leaving my efforts up to chance. She spends the opportunity describing how I can be more like her ideal man, even beyond the qualities of her own husband. This would be helpful in cross-reference with millions of American married women. She encourages me to improve my radar but she'll never understand what it takes to distinguish flirting from trying to get a good tip. We'll see a time where our parents encourage us to do as they did and find love online. Unfortunately by then the rules will have changed and the advisers may have no idea what you're talking about. 

The Perfect Man: Part 2

     A day hike to view Malibu stole the stress of looming budget cuts and downsizing at work. Clean, lightly salted air fills his lungs with every breath as he's careful not to outpace the East coast hiker in tow around familiar curves. She smiles when blue sea breaks the landscape and memories of traffic out of town fade. Their return plans of taco trucks and a chance to grow on each other vanish at the unfamiliar sound of a battery exhausted. Hood aloft and auto club on the line, he hides his disappointment with humor as she recalls the last time she was stranded like this. Unafraid to admit defeat he solves the problem with help and proves upset plans are an opportunity for patience and roof-top sunsets.

     Weeks after their romantic tow truck ride he prepares for a night of dinner and dancing. Teeth brushed and tie bent his easy smile comes arduously. A month spent watching friends pack personals in file boxes left him feeling fortunate but frustrated to adapt to his new normal. The assumption of safety seeing collegues gone and dust since cleared, made today's trial untenable. Determined not to ruin a night anticipated, he forces an irrational positivity she can see through on their walk to the car. A courtesy denial precedes his honest answer as he explains the potential options at his disposal. She asks him to be angry about it. He calmly affirms her reaction to the news but sees his new unemployment as a fresh start.

     Today marks the beginning of his new workout routine. With job hunting hours a mere eight per day he sees an increase in muscle mass and social options. The call came as a surprise after seeing how much energy he had at their Christmas dinner. Losing someone so inspiring and full of life feels like a physical impairment to him. She comes with him to the funeral looking modest but beautiful. It reminds him of his own vitality and the way Uncle Jim would expect him to feel after he was gone. His words are short but reminiscent of their conversations at the lake house in the late hours after everyone else had gone to sleep. His wisdom was unparalleled and his cigars were terrible.

Blessed Beyond Recognition

     Throbbing pain lulled him awake after a weekend long battle with exhaustion. His first drug induced thoughts placed him in a nursing home about five decades too soon before the presence of loved ones tipped him off. They filled in Tyler's patchwork memory and like a scene from a movie he identified with their story's hero in terrifying technicolor. By his physical reaction to the account, mom thought it prudent to wait and allow the doctor to fall prey to the messenger's burden. Before he could arrive however her son became keenly aware that part of his body was untouched by pain. He couldn't feel the low thread count sheets on his feet, the blankets warmth which would normally make him uncomfortable or even his mother's hand resting on his leg.

     It's incredibly difficult to see beyond our own disappointed expectations. Dream career's usurped by cubicle caged temp work or first-sight love unrequited, keep us blinded to the blessings around. Finding the needle in life's stack of arbitrary goals can feel more like busy work than it does a life worth living. We collect obstacles as a testament to our resilience, the greater the challenge, the more justified we feel to pursue. Completion is not the reward, instead the reward exists both as something to be avoided in an effort to preserve our continued pursuit, as well as a thing to guage our next goal by. Unfortunately none of these constructs make us happy. Happiness needs us to recognize that to be crippled from birth is an excuse for disregarding blessings disguised by timing.

     What happened to Tyler could happen to me tomorrow. It's simple to assume our lives may end at any moment. The challenge is to seize life right now, with no regard for the disfiguring perils that come at us when we feel our microwave is properly sealed or the seat belt securely fastened. You are alive in this moment and it's a shame to mistake what limited means we have as anything but extraordinary.

   

   

Smooth Alterator

     Bandaged and sore she regrettably said no again for the third time this month post-op. A thousand dollars sat stuffed into a drawer that will only open once more for Goodwill if she can stomach the idea of contributing second hand underwear. His favorite brew turned Brutus according to an add riddled article claimed he may be in need of her recent hand-me-downs lest he begin selecting a diet option. Apparently autodrafting an LA Fitness holiday rate each month buys nothing but excuses and the "work" his jacked associate ordered, proved useless when faced with an impatient beer drinker.

     From physical to spiritual and every gradient between, a change that is possible is most certainly prompted by the dating market. Women seem inclined to doctor their bodies while men carve car payments from modest wallets. Confronted with consistent failure by following the standards set by Saved by the Bell, we can't help but look to the God-given curses our parents spent years spinning as desireable attributes, for blame. A mis-representative nose or a passionately defended affinity for the arts may land us in bullshit categories only ethics prompt us to defend. But in the dark corner of desperate distancing we pray to be identified as the very thing we seek to change and loved in that very spot.

     So why do some seek a doctorate in dietary trends when their crush turns out vegan? Or still others pursue a masters in mountaineering because John Muir hangs framed above the family fireplace? What makes us think that what we've invested a half-life into can't be worth backing because small people want immediate results? Sure, anyone can become a Seahawks fan overnight or claim to enjoy Halo because apparently video games are cool now, but no one worth loving wants a reflection in a mirror dimly. Who you are now is worth loving and change delays connection, don't be fooled.

Political Pick Up Lines

    Tara is very vocal and settles into the supportive perch of a like-minded environment. As a self-described ultimate player and spin enthusiast she's surprised when friends feel the need to mention Hillary as an introduction is made. She's proud of the fact however and her date is likely to hear arguments related to qualification and experience before the proper method for throwing a frisbee. Not a century previous though, women like her were dependent on a man and by binding extension the title of wife in order for their voice to be heard. Now, the simple fact that I'm writing this on my phone can disguise how little time has actually passed while the world has changed so rapidly.

     Unfortunately rapid change can be devastatingly illusory. Just as the signatory end of slavery in the US sat for an entire century before African Americans in 1964 were finally given the right to continue to be targeted by law enforcement and incarcerated at an egregious rate in contrast with other races. Law is clearly important to civilize an evil landscape, but culture reigns supreme. When we change the rules the losers like to pretend like something happened so nothing changes culturally. Unfortunately most of us can't even know the law well enough to defend ourselves and far too often we're faced with choosing between bankrupting legal fees or plea pushing public defenders.

     In the face of great opposition be encouraged, if only by necessity because discouragement remains the oppressor's Great Wall. When we feel like these complicated laws and the limited means we have to change them fail to support our ideals, politicians urge us toward the polls. We're herded in droves to cast our solicited and often uninformed vote toward a lesser evil and the process serves to mask proper representation. You won't find yourself reflected in the image of presidential candidacy so don't look for it there. Its not because they fill a higher class but because these people work for us, from the bar tender to the second grade teacher to the stay at home mom or dad. Don't refuse to vote because you feel underrepresented, a blank ballot is a vote for the majority. Tara's vote counts for herself and for anyone who's fallen victim to being on the wrong side of culture.
   
   

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Mid-Date Texting

     Just imagine she's wearing mirrored aviators and midnight blue. Her black and white parked alongside you clogging the HOV lane as you both ride the brake below 30. Your breath slows feeling the tug of your shoulder belt and as you recall dad obnoxiously checking each tail light last month before leaving your parent's for a visit. Vibration from the center console has never been easier to ignore knowing she's watching you. Your focus on the road ahead hasn't been this intense since the third attempt at your driver's test when you were sixteen. That's a good thing too because she doesn't want your attention on her; the road is her words and she won't accept a compliment as an excuse for running into the car ahead.

     Many have already forgotten what life was like without smartphones. Something so powerful and useful that's always accessible, demands attention. Priorities become ambiguous when we all can relate to the excuses for checking a text during a conversation or using Google to insert details into it. After all who can enjoy their meal wondering the average weight of a bengal tiger or who won the gold medal for figure skating in the '86 Olympics? We even leave our phones on the dinner table as if to say, I'm listening to you but keeping my options open. It's easy to tuck the world away on a first date. You're both excited and you legitimately have decades of detail to learn about this person, detail that Facebook has filtered from view. What speaks to her isn't how well you merge into traffic the first time but instead what habits dominate your daily commute and how you drive when no one is watching.

     

Chemistry in Context

     Having a laugh at work when Greg's toupee sags or bonding punch bowl-side at a holiday party may jump start the heart, but it's easy to confuse attraction in social interactions with real one-on-one chemistry. The energy in a social setting is contagious and the side-effects may include impaired judgement and enhanced conversational skills. I myself have fallen prey to the sudden swoon brought on by a communal connection, especially amidst pairs of healthy happy people I respect and admire. I have some need to mirror their bonds, or at the very least an obsessive compulsion to pair up overcomes me and what feels right may be indifferent to our unique personalities.

     Decorations placed post turkey day, hung for weeks in anticipation of ugly sweaters and piles of cheap sugar cookies, ushered in employees of all ranks in search of the promise of an open bar.  Jovial murmurs filled the halls with occasional bursts by the more boisterous and in casual coordination most made their way to their bosses for obligatory greetings and gratitude. Olivia spent little time without close friends nearby and after discovering no one from her wary HR department there, began heading for the door. Huddled in the foyer akin to an amateur improv troupe in balance and demographics, the collection of IT professionals and their dates clumped together for security.

     Oblivious to their topical wordplay, rooted in tech terms and obscure reference, she would've passed by in Irish fashion had Dan not backed up abruptly to accommodate his own wild gestures. He apologized for the third time that night and breaking out of his typically timid character asked Olivia why she was leaving so early. An hour later she still didn't know his name, but he passed it off in stride displaying confidence that could only come from the focused energy of a captive audience.

     Weeks later, after several awkward and expensive trips down sushi row, it was clear their interests were divergent. Dan was not the same life of the party she'd been attracted to through New Years and the more he sensed her disappointment the harder it became to feign his brass. Maybe Olivia was never drawn to him but thrived on their dynamic first act, or simple Dan lost steam discovering her strongest feelings were derived from foreign cuisines and cultures. Whatever the disconnect was they remained blind to the communal cues that linked them that night and Dan's only takeaway was a concerted effort to minimize large hand motions in small walkways.

   

   
   

   

Facebook Stalker

     When she mentioned an ex of mine, I couldn't be sure at first that it wasn't my second cup of coffee inserting paranoia into the conversation or if I had reasonable apprehensions. Afterall it is a large town with many intersecting circles. Perhaps she felt compelled to mention a mutual friend upfront like reading my Miranda rights before the arrest. Yet I didn't recall sharing my hometown either and so it became increasingly difficult to distinguish between caffeine shake and the shiver that comes from feeling like you're being watched. Of course I don't regret what she might find and have sought out old friends through Facebook many times myself, but the more she spoke I was convinced she couldn't tell the difference between what she'd read and what she'd heard me say.

     Its as though my unedited résumé of relationships sits on public record, along with more than sufficient details to complete the Meyers-Briggs without cheating. All these exciting tools keep us accepting unread terms of agreement and gather a sewer grate swath of personal information available to friends and foes alike. A third cup of coffee proved distracting and hardly worth the brief reprieve of waiting in line. She continued on as I sat back down and I couldn't be sure she'd noticed my absence the way questions put to me typically included the answer.

     Caught off guard by references to photos I'd forgot, filled my head with more than a thousand words, not one of which could I get in. A moment did come though when to catch her breath she looked away briefly and I saw my chance to interrupt. The idea of telling her my discomfort, turned out to be far less aggressive than when I put it into use. Was her profiled perception of me soiled by my patience and honesty? Had I given an expert researcher a foul motive? Only Timehop will tell. 

The Breakup Gene

     News may have never been true. Fact and fiction, like the five or six words of Donald Trump, often blend into something wholly unrecognizable when control is at stake. The Internet has undoubtedly complicated the matter, bringing word of celebrity deaths decades before they occur and video evidence of real UFOs, compliments of Photoshop. Science seems to fall victim to this confusion on a daily basis, so when seeing an article that implicated genetics as a potential culprit in the case of failed relationships, I was skeptical. As if there weren't enough reasons to pass the buck already, now a gene could take the blame for Steve the jobless rapper who lives with his mother, being undateable.

     Naturally like anything online, I read enough of the article to form my own opinions and dashed to my local library where I could source reliable materials for cross-reference. I didn't actually visit the library or remember anything specific about the report, but the following opinions are true. What seems appealing about said discovery has less to do with excuses and more with the potential for us to solve a complex problem with a simple solution. Like turning to cosmic sea creatures and farm animals to explain why Jim and Sally didn't last, we can readily accept one dimensional concepts like fate in the face of the hard work that comes with correcting decades of antisocial behavior.

     Perhaps the most difficult part of choosing the narrow path is how long it takes. Snappy ideas and the judgments accociated promise immediate results. Isolating a gene that can be used to explain your last three drunken-rage fueled breakups might lend hope that a medical solution exists or at least Darwin might have the last laugh at our expense. Sadly the latter doesn't suit our requirement for instant gratification or personal application so a door has opened. When we know the answer to a problem is demanding, it is merely a matter of time before progress opportunistically lends a hand in exchange for a monthly service charge.

   

The Perfect Man: Part 1

     His belt matches his shoes but he spent no time thinking about it. Akin to a walking issue of GQ he manages to make others feel comfortable as they are. His compliments feel more like confident observations but inspire women to love themselves and men to push for their potential. 430 horses accompany him on his commute but he drives responsibly as though carrying precious cargo. In traffic he listens to Kipling, aloof to the mess of rage around. Perpetually early to work he's respected there and meets challenges with strength, always prepared to stand alone because nothing worth doing requires permission.

     When he leaves the firm his first thoughts are of food prep and preheating. A talent beneath the range hood, he'll have you craving veggies. Weeks after his Asian fusion dinner party you double the TJs budget looking for spice and sauce to cheat close to what was served. Though he calls to check on his mother once a week he never mentions it and be it a compliment or not would never compare another woman to her. He takes work, diet and relationships seriously but humor comes first. When you want to cry but laughing feels better, it's his fault. More important than the laughs he draws, is how consistently he knows the joke and makes you feel understood in deepest sarcasm, with a lonely laugh calling others into question.

     After benching a personal record he writes it down in private, letting the proof speak for itself and saving Instagram for family and friends. As much as he's coached through the screen his favorite teams, he spends twice the time in cleats and sweat. Not holding on to high school dreams but grounded in corporate paintball and interoffice softball, he leads. On a date he's polite and attentive, she's not sure if he even owns a cellphone. He'll make his date feel petite in heels and when they make eye contact she won't remember where they are. She feels young and beautiful with him but while she has his attention now she knows it can't be taken for granted. He's never ordered Dos Equis and never will, so long as craft brews are on tap. He's the perfect man.

Text Don't Call

     Holding our breath hoping a twelfth reset might be unecessary, action was called and the hundreds of pieces were set in motion. Camera and talent were blocked in a dance so specific at times it was a game of inches. A perfectly timed pan and cross obscured that reflection finally discovered in take eight, tongue-twisters simplified to save us from flubbed lines five minutes into the scene and boom pole operation so surgical in skill to avoid shadows even Ben Carson would be envious, not to mention his patients. It wasn't until the last minute, after the beer spill and squib hit as the sun left for its giant trailer in the sky, that Bon Jovi joined the soundtrack uninvited and the PA attached scrambled to silence Jon before his first day became his last. If you work on set, at least once you've been that guy, and in the moment no phone call could be worth the shame that follows.

     For this reason I committed to silence my phone 24 hours a day, 365 days per year. As much as I'd love to hear the X-Files theme every time a stranger calls, instead I generally miss phone calls making text my preferred method of communication. She preferred to call. We enjoyed many passive aggressive conversations on the topic but ultimately after three missed calls during a shower with no message left to reply to, I decided it wasn't working. I know many people who swear by communicating through the tiny microwave next to their brain, afterall how could you expect sarcasm to translate through text? Though generally I see text as the more considerate option, refusing to demand immediate attention in favor of connecting with someone on their terms. 

     I've undoubtedly spent hours at a time trying to communicate simple ideas via text that were settled in seconds once someone decided to pick up the phone and call. That's a genuine argument to include minutes in your plan but those rolling over will never find a purpose. Even if you found yourself buried in a box like Ryan Reynolds, your battery would die before coming close to using those rollover minutes. Just picture that every text, from the delicately formatted 6 Plus screen busting paragraphs down to a simple winking emoji have all been drafted with care. Meanwhile the majority of phone calls I receive from close friends are butt dials. It really doesn't matter how great that butt might be, I'd rather talk to a person, even if it's vowel-less text sent from the can and smattered with yellow faced winkers. 

Fear and Loneliness in Los Angeles

     She spent her last three Friday's in good company. Apart from repetitive Hulu commercials and the inevitable sorrow discovered amongst the sediment at the bottom of a bottle of merlot, she enjoyed them. Her friends, solitude and security, kept the frustrations of catfish and sleaze bags at bay while offering enough rest to recharge from a demanding six day work week. As rewarding as the ritual had been, she needed to branch out at least once a month, if not to satisfy her mom's weekly inquest then to supplement the cabinets' waning supply.

 
     Just three years ago she successfully completed a marathon in anticipation of her 30th. Date after date she trudged on but instead of running the requisite mileage she met and refused 26.2 men in a matter of months. The ancient pressure to find a man in time to have a family, tormented her for a season, when Los Angeles proved an unproductive source for qualifying gentlemen. Her second glass felt heavy and dark. She asked to go home but he acted like everything was okay. She moved back to avoid his kiss and standing, asked again if they could return home. The next hour she played the part enough to get back and his insistence disregarded every word she spoke.
 
     Calls and texts too vile to recall, lined her inboxes, and somehow her sympathy kept the secret. Too close to point a finger and too modest to see this worthy of speaking up about in light of stories she'd heard before, she deleted his number and forgot she'd met him. Harder to forget however, was the wolf still prowling. She felt he'd locked her in a castle of fear there'd be more, and continued to stalk, not hearing, unyielding. Tonight she came down again. Years later and miles beyond any societal plea to marry, with hope for relationship. Just remember her strength gentlemen, a man like yourself made this date a courageous effort, are you worth it?

There's a Hole in the Friendzone

     Turning it over in my head, I swing like a rag doll from confident anticipation to frustrated dread and back again wondering, is this a date? My dress shoes are obnoxiously loud as they slap the concrete, demanding to know why I spent extra time to dress up for her. Quickly remembering irrational confidence is the most attractive quality in a man I settled my souls' questioning, determined I'd dressed this way for myself. Her eagerness to join me tonight and interest in my randomized conversation inspiring, I felt sure of our jaunt's identity. Though sureness left idle, bleeds into banality and from there my creative mind gets the best of me.

     Every new day calls into question the concept of gender roles.  Does a man define the outing or can feminism justify my inability to be direct? A value though it may be, to assert my desire for this evening to equal more than our normal fare, brings us to the brink of whatever ship we thought we'd boarded months ago. A friendship defined in a moment by dumb luck and blind ambition or a relationship built on risk and arbitrary signals gleaned from Redbook or buried in the acting opinion section of Men's Fitness.

     I want to say it went well, or that in some singular stroke of brilliance my ego and self-conscious heckling ceased long enough for some real moment to slip in. I'd be overjoyed to report our friendship remained buoyant as ever, tossed hard by unequaled desire but buffeted again to port with a first mate or two. That fairy tale must illustrate a grand lesson for us. I'll let you know when I figure it out, but for now all I can say is you should wear those nice shoes. You look great in those shoes.

Cheating by Nurture

     Ignoring the signs cannot access the bliss we're promised. His eyes wander more than normal during the reception. She lets the argument go too easy. He can't remember who watched the game with him and she has a new interest in hockey. Sadly the start of many relationships come on the heels of another. As if our significant other is cutting pay checks and we're sneaking around taking job interviews to line something up before dropping two weeks notice. Is it a flawed person that can't stand a moment alone or have we been so conditioned to be in relationships that we'd disrespect the person we once drunkenly called bae?

     In grand scandals and their Hollywood dramatizations the trail is lined by money, but individuals value time. The real distinction is between time spent alone and time with others. The image of an old man alone on a park bench, feeding birds or simply observing the world around him typically reads as loneliness and sadness. A party of friends celebrating at a restaurant or around a grill spells togetherness and happiness. Unfortunately these are commercial ideas, and have literally zero bearing on reality. In every crowd of birthday partyers is at least one divorcee deciding between rent or alimony, hoping the next ex will show up in time to watch his dog by the end of the month business trip. Every park bench tells a story of old men and women overjoyed to be surrounded by nature in the middle of a city grown around them and the active generations who will take over when it's too much for old bones to handle.

     You can be alone in a crowd and feel togetherness in isolation, it's not healthy to align with marketable ideals. I saw a Ross commercial today and every thin woman was accompanied by a man, while every plus size woman walked side by side with another woman, also apparently ill fitted for male accompaniment. This was no pro-lesbian agenda, but instead a subversive nod to fantizised body image as a primary selling point. These messages may sell, further demonstrating that corporate bottom line, but are you spending time with someone because they cast well with your type or connect with you fleetingly during a 30 second break?

Serial Dating

     Gaps in dating history should not be as concerning as the ones on your résumé. Though for whatever reason culture likes to shame the single into feeling wonky for taking a year off after that six semester trist you choose to remember as a growing experience. Getting back on the horse in pursuit of another fish right away leaves little time to process past failures, not to mention the undue strain placed on both animals. Failing to haiatus between commitments also leaves us pointing blame in the easiest direction, whether that's at ourselves due to low self-esteem or at our previous partner. Either way, spanning time is important for recognizing where the problems lie so we don't keep trying to fix what ain't broke while also rushing into the same tempting snares that stung us last time.

     What truly comes from a dating style that shares an adjective with killers and sophomore slumping podcasts? Serial dating teaches us to be codependent and worse can even force us to compartmentalize each relationship instead of drawing on previous experience to become a better person. On our second date she playfully accused me of mistaking her for someone else. Had I called her by the wrong name or recalled a conversation we never had, I'd understand, but she was anticipating a mistake. I asked about her experience in SLO where she said she'd gone to school and was corrected when she said "I'm from Maine". She was looking to catch me in a mistake and our conversation felt more like a wrestling match than it did a date.

     Spend enough time in the game and soon everyone you meet looks like a player. To be so consistently disappointed or perhaps do the disappointing yourself sets you looking for flaws or holes in a person's first impressions. But the truth is we act. We perform for people who don't know us yet by putting our best foot forward. Only our best foot is not a true representation of who we are and it takes a James Bond type to withstand a personality witch hunt. Whatever you bring to the dinner table, presumptions, fears, patience, they all pair well with time. Time to reflect and make the most of any previous experience.

Sports of All Sorts

     Competition fuels high energy relationships and can inspire chemistry from the most unlikely places. Was Romeo seriously ambivalent to his Montague roots? Did Juliet show up to the bar sans Tybalt jersey? It's clearly a device to polarize our starcrossers as far as the Yankees from the Red Sox purely to lend credibility to this knee jerk love affair. But maybe they were more attracted to the forbidden? Isn't it possible that the passion spent hour after hour to support their respective bird mascots could drive a Pacific Northwesterner to land a diehard Mary from Baltimore? Whichever way your spectator compass leads you the fact remains, Los Angeles is the land of sports diversity and at some point you'll probably have to venture beyond Raider nation to find the one.

   
     Despite incessant warnings and a collective disgust for our longest standing NFL rival my friend somehow found herself in the arms of a Bears fan. Cheeseheaded and fierce she must enjoy the conflict and he the humiliation of consistent losses. Some however, can't bear the taunts of their significant other after a last second miffed field goal or three pointer at the buzzer. Much like dating outside your religion or across political lines, passionate sports fans can find themselves in serious spats, even when one party doesn't understand how important it is for Barcelona to beat Real Madrid.

     My competitive nature finds me screening dates based on team affiliation, if only to avoid staring at an unsightly San Fransisco Giants logo whenever I see her face. Even if you could find a way as a Buckeye to live in harmony amongst a den of Wolverines there's at least one friend of his who will make your life a living hell. In a city of transplants you can always find that random dive that transforms into a Browns bar every Sunday, but odds are you'll need a thick skin to keep your game face on. 

Doggie Dating: Part 1

     Though feeding, walking and poop scooping for another creature forces one to break out of selfish tendencies, it doesn't mean you'll naturally want to apply those considerations to someone else. Generally I live by the rule that a dog should be too big to fit it's entire body inside a purse. But ladies seem to be carrying larger bags these days and dog and rat breeds appear to have blended. I suppose there are advantages to using a hamster wheel for their daily walk but the oddest thing about accessory dogs is how they reflect on their owners.

     She swore she had friends but I never met a single one of them. Our conversation topics included football and her rat dog so it could've worked had we lasted until preseason. Unfortunately the headlines were just too thin to stay away from constant thoughts of Fluffy and her dietary restrictions.  What I really noticed from this was how we like to take something outside of us, our dog, job, a conflict and use it to mask the fact that we're still talking about ourselves.

     After long days I struggle to have a selfless attitude on a 3am walk around the neighborhood but my pup and step counter remind me why it's good to serve something outside myself. Unfortunately that really doesn't translate to other relationships without a focused effort. Too often I've been the center of my conversations, directing them where I want instead of listening and allowing the people I care about to share what's on their hearts and minds. Paola is still a puppy and learning to listen to me and follow commands. Soon she'll know I'm serious when I tell her not to run from me or lovingly leap at the elderly, but I have work to do too and no training excuses to hide behind.

Workplace Romance

     A long time ago in a Panavision building since demolished to make room for fancy modern art style condos, I learned the reason corporations value office relationship disclosures. There was no steamy supply closet rendezvous or googly eyes across the shipping dock for me but the understanding that becoming too comfortable with someone in the workplace can take a destructive turn in sync with the relationship's end. Unfortunately a full time job in entertainment breaches 60 hours per week as a standard, leaving time for little to no extra curricular flirtations. Meeting someone you're interested in away from the workplace is like trying to be chivalrous by holding a revolving door open.

     Neigh-sayers be dammed, if a farmer finds his wife working with her hands in the fields beside him or an attorney meets her husband scouring police reports in a lonely hall of records, they know immediately the caliber of their partner in terms they understand. Dan told me nervously about his set crush as if putting it in words was drafting a letter of resignation. But the magic of cold beer at the end of a long day makes secrets impossible and I couldn't help but encourage him to pursue his boss. As a PA on set it's easier to convince the sun to rise for one more take than to find someone who you don't take orders from. He never blamed me when she stopped calling him for work because he understood the risks, and when did love become something safe? To chance your heart with someone else is noble and very often folly, but to take the same gamble with a person who doesn't understand the travel, long hours and constantly changing political games is often worse.

You Must Workout

     Short of breath in a sweat stained rag I stumbled up the last dirt steps and looked down at Hollywood, still wholly unimpressed by my meager efforts. She rejects thousands of 10s every day left to wander the valley in search of a non-industry friend to reinspire them. But while the casting couch fits all sizes, the odds are naturally weighted to favor the fit where dating is concerned. Kate joined me a minute later unfazed by the incline, her lean physique at home with the other hikers training for their close ups.

     Short sleeves showcased her artwork. The type of art people wear who are confident they can keep up a tight canvas of skin for years to come. We enjoyed the slopes in single file solitude and after her rigid regimen wouldn't flex to accommodate lunch and a chance to get to know each other. Active lifestyle means many things depending who you ask. To some it's wandering 24 Hour Fitness in search of machines to rest on and to others it means three daily workouts and a monthly triathlon. Whatever your fitness level may be its a significant part of your lifestyle, who you attract and who you'll make time for.

     Short lived as my crush was, it forced me to recognize and accept my own PT priorities. It's easy to confuse personal goals and an inflated view of oneself for reality but lifestyle is impossible to disguise and shouldn't be. After shooting a documentary that included covering an ironman athlete through his return to the race, I was inspired to see size has little to do with the passion behind fitness. Though a person's physicality is an obvious attractor, their passion and dedication toward it or toward any priority is paramount.
   

Cali Curfew

     Somehow working late enjoys the company of missed social gatherings. Typically these days are Fridays or "Fraturdays" and the schedule always seems harmlessly accommodating for after work activities. Inevitably the post lunch lag gangs up with unforeseen delays to threaten that birthday bash you excitedly "maybed" on Facebook weeks ago. As hours slip away and Google maps turns bloodshot with traffic alerts it becomes clear you'll be work clad and late if only the day ends now. So why in a city stretched with Inland Emperors parked along the 210 till eight and free-range work hours do we limit our gatherings to mirror prime time tv?

     One sixth of each day we maintain our states color with premature last calls and locked liquor cases. Between two and six California is a dry state, prompting bar and restaurant closures and flooding the roads with irresponsible Uber dodgers to share the lanes with thousands of Cal Trans workers. By the time you fight through the end of rush hour and cross town to pass that lot-less dive bar it's closing on 11pm. Another twenty minutes to park and walk finds you shoulder to shoulder with the weekend crowd as you tag face after face looking for one familiar. When you find the remaining core group composed of childless singles and non-mutual friends a quick round of small talk sends you back through the hoard in search of that first drink just before midnight.

     We fall short of Japan's devastating work ethic and relish the rest of a Spanish siesta, leaving us with mediocrity in work and at play. After the long hours is a suspended hope for respite, the chance to see friends, meet someone or plan a date. Maybe I'm too much of a night owl or my callsheet dependent internal clock keeps me out of the nine to five routine, but I don't think an extra hour on the weekends slopes to Sodom. So if you're one of my friends and your game night is winding down, I'm excited and bringing beer, but also probably in traffic about 20 minutes out.

Venues On the Menu

   Los Angeles has too many options. You can fake your art history knowledge at the Getty, hike to the falls in Malibu and overdose on roses at the Pasadena Tournament House all in one day barring a presidential visit. Across the 4700 square miles of LA county never darkening the same door twice is possible but lacks the charm of a Cheers style welcome. Though breaking up routines and exploring new haunts can be the answer to meeting someone new or at least finding a cool place to take them.

    Squeezing through the dark passage I could smell more than see in the dimly lit Harvard and Stone. By the time I reached the bar I'd passed a sweaty bouncer on his third shift, two gentlemen experimenting with the proper amount of Axe body spray (zero fellas) and the sterilized reminder of a drunk's failure to reach the bathroom the night before. Three scans of the cocktail menu allowed my eyes to adjust but it was clear I'd struggle to properly identify faces here.

     Days earlier I had the chance to explore the place in daylight while working on a commercial and I returned for the promise of live music. Electronic shrieks and whines exploded off the stage at first reminding me why admission was free, but a variety of styles soon left my ears relieved and ringing. I love places like this for my own sake but details are important when taking a girl out. Finding somewhere fun where you can speak over the din can be as rare as a bar in Silverlake without PBR. Something about screaming in my date's ear to ask a question as the music cuts out doesn't sound appealing, but then again there are only so many naked statues one can appreciate before craving some nightlife.

Ghosting is No Goodbye

     Four weeks, three binge-watched dramas and plans to spontaneously weekend in Cancun later, his last text said "cool" and then nothing. Aimee tried not to read too much into it because her yoga mates shared their frustration over similar shenanigans, but how much time spent can justify feelings for someone? How many In-N-Out shakes and trivia Tuesday's does it take before we can stop behaving like emotionless sociopaths prepared to never see or hear from them again, seemingly at random?

     Unfortunately ghosting is a two-sided coin, where a false detection of character may be as much to blame as disrespectful goodbyes. Texting someone your perfectly garnished omelet and twelve shockingly specific emojis can suspend the illusion that a relationship exists when really he can't remember your name. Is Verizon truly the bar for deciding how close you are to someone?

     Most haunted ends to promising partnerships stem from their electronic origins. Bumbling across your dream date in a bathroom stall is rarely an isolated occurrence no matter how romantic it may seem. Just as you've matched with multiples, so she has too. Just as you've commented on her hometown of Seattle only to be reminded she's from Maine, she's done the same for another one of her matches. The shotgun approach to courting ensures nothing can be personal until it exists offline. If your interest disappears into cyberspace he was always a ghost, but transparency is easily masked through text.

Tinder: Part 2

   Insisting we meet before exchanging numbers, she left me refreshing the app to see how long I'd be anticipating an awkward hug from a complete stranger. Just a month ago I'd been at the same Aroma cafe table waiting to meet someone who would reach out days later to apologize for not showing up. Again I found myself double checking profile pictures against every brunette through the door before she rushed in scanning. Repeating her name in my head for the last ten minutes prepped me to say hello for the first time only to be corrected on my pronunciation.

     Stories of mismatches, pen pals disappointing in person and fake phone calls tried to derail my confidence. Many still support the stigma of online dating, leaving the beta generation no choice but to triumph it's brave new opportunities. To admit defeat and circle the copious flaws associated, offers little sympathy from the doubters. Any relationship regardless of its origins will have defects. Though a certain pressure for success seems to loom when love springs from synchronized thumbs swiping in the night.

     A manufactured connection as it was could thrive on chemistry alone or fizzle in the banalities of getting acquainted. Most things are beyond our control and the person who catches our eye is no exception. Failing to remember this fact due to the ease of stumbling upon their profile, will set you up for an outing as two-dimensional as the airbrushed headshot that brought you there. Finding the one could be a swipe away but relating to someone takes work and there's no app for that yet.

   

Parents Date Too

     Speaking softly created a false sense of intimacy as did visiting her home after one date. We shared mostly our desires to learn guitar and shortlist a couple go-to cocktails. Accustomed to hosting as I was, it felt comfortable and rewarding to be offered what little food she had, Mac and cheese leftovers with hotdog slices in every bite. Scanning the bathroom for a hand towel, I caught batman's fraying bristles and Donald Duck bunched on the rack behind me. Simple thoughts of my own childhood creeped out from the toys and tear-free shampoos reminding me how far I'd come and how close her son was down the hall.

   Her attention to me was endearing, though I knew at best it could only ever be divided. Some friends struggle to adjust when a new member robs the focus their companion had given from the start. Here it was a known quantity and the shock was immediate. I wish I could say we had the same chance any other relationship does, only here I'd consider more than a new girlfriend. From day one, family was the topic and commitment the question.

    Then there are some whose children have grown. A vacant nest suggests freedom to the ambivalent, but impressions left can weigh heavier than a bird in hand. His daughter was grown and independent but her DUI incurred financial pressures and the occasional sabbaticals in jail weigh on a father in ways unseen. At the end of it all a child is too often the last to be considered and the first to be affected.

Never Say Break Up

     As the song wails, it's "hard to do" but most strive to make breaking up more difficult than it has to be. The words themselves somehow possess a bitter flavor, leaving heartbreakers hankering for turndowns with a less transparent taste. Cutting to the point feels crass, like the time you repeated a joke and regrettably realized it was racist. Instead we dance around them like a campfire, simultaneously attracted and repelled by self preserving instincts. Though as much as closing the bathroom door fixes a flooding toilet, declining to say the words can escalate matters and leave you apologizing for someone else's crap.

     Surrounded by lush green jungle perpetually awaiting rain, we rehearsed our scene. An entire world away my thoughts had missed the flight, arrested by someone left behind and then my family as we mourned the passing of our patriarch. Working in sweat and sun with constant efforts to communicate beyond my means it proved impossible to think beyond the day. Soon home felt more like a memory repressed. Returning to find ends left untied and a heart grown fonder, reinforced in me the value of communicating with finality.

     Direct and confident people are scarce here. It's not easy being honest in a city that so often promotes pretenders. Unfortunately we can't please everybody all the time and refusing to speak hard truth because it's hard, is cruel. I'd like to say I clear this high bar, but if I could I suppose it wouldn't be high enough.

Your Diet Makes You Undateable

     First came the soft embarassment that goes with handing my very average keys to one of the red vested cash workers outside the only vegan place nearby. I felt like the deck was stacked in my favor finding four stars on Yelp associated with a restaurant that doesn't serve food. Apparently there was something unspeakably wrong with the menu besides sticky laminate, because we were on our way across town to another spot, my wallet five complimentary dollars lighter. She never seemed satisfied with her meal, like the time I could feel a night destroyed by stomach pain only halfway through my blue cheese burger. Hard fought tolerance for lactose doesn't stop me from accomodating a lady who insists artisan pizza will change my life, but gas and valet take their toll.

     It was a good meal and a nice time. My desire for someone who wanted us to enjoy dinner together was short-lived and small picture. Diet makes us hungry dictators bent on satisfying me, to the extent we can't remember you too were there, until hours later. Try as we might to bake kale chips and taste test gluten-free ales, you're not worth it and it's not your fault. Perhaps taste is the most significant factor in choosing your match.

     If you've felt marginalized by the common Chicago vs. New York pie conversation or found your true fear of flying comes in sample-sized Southwest snack packs, then you have a legitimate reason to take eatery selection seriously. Adding gluten to the list has forced Los Angeles to be very creative, searching the ends of the earth for diets and recipes that offer palatable plates for the pickiest people. The love train doesn't always carry what's right for you and they don't stop at Whole Foods, so some measure of sacrifice must go along with the dietary diatribe we love to hot potato back and forth.

Dating Dress Code

     Showing up with an expertly tied double windsor paired with a pocket square doesn't matter, if she thought it was casual. Sure sometimes an ill-fitted suit lacks the style of a J. Crew flannel, but on a date nothing is more important than making your companion comfortable. The grab bag we call So Cal defines casual differently, but blue skies have us repping T-shirts like Uber stickers on a Prius. Too many outings are spoiled by an effort to impress when communication and comfort often leave the desired impact.

     Opening sweaters for Christmas was once a disappointment, but I look back now and take grandma's advice and invest in clothes to bridge that gap between beach bumming and black tie gala. She looked good in her favorite top and black jeans, the one he'd mentioned from her picture in their first chat. A mid 60's "cold snap" justified dragging the navy peacoat out to their local theater's Romeo and Juliet update with doomed plans to shed it upon arrival. On approach she scanned past sweatered and shawled old ladies and what appeared to be a brideless groom in search of her suitor. Then a flash of cuff links waving shocked her to find his face encircled by a three piece suit. His was the only one like it and she knew immediately they weren't on the same page.

     A stigma exists barring men from swapping styles, as they would combustion specifications or NBA trade rumors, despite the fact that neither will improve their ability to attract a mate. On the other hand it would seem that sexiness is contingent on the level of discomfort her footwear affords. Clothing sends an unconscious message about investment and therefore requires consideration regardless of the nature of an outing. In a place so diverse culturally and economically it just makes sense to be clear with one's intentions and make an effort to dress accordingly, after all previewing that suit choice may be the only time she won't judge you for sending a selfie.

Friends Split Checks

   Money speaks to everyone differently. Yammering on like a spoiled child in a toy store, it's incessant to some but others stay so deaf to the sound they miss old friends paying on their behalf. Failing to tip may express dissatisfaction with your delayed refill but it also might say cheap. That coat of arms on the hood of her car screams of class and values and we are all listening whether or not we know. Because in Los Angeles Armani brushes shoulders with Salvation Army (typically at Starbucks), wealth doesn't always divide. We find ourselves fraternizing with people of various means and dating makes no exception.

    Courtship has a history. Like most histories hers is dominated by a masculine agenda and for better or worse finds herself mired in social norms imbalancing the relationship from the beginning. Upon meeting a person who is strange in every sense of the term except by liquor blurred sight, how can one expect to shell out exorbitant bar fees to cover their tab? For this reason many find the simple request to "buy you a drink" pregnant with coital expectation. What then does it mean to make small  monetary sacrifices early in a relationship and how does this reflect a person's own perceived prosperity as well as their concept of gender roles?

   Brought together by Packer football despite local roots, I thought we'd have plenty to talk about.  Blocks away from dinner and still slinging yes and no answers she refused my offer to dodge conversation over a game of darts. Somewhere Aziz watched me struggle understanding she never intended to split the bill in the first place and if I'd recommended sushi maybe I'd have found myself in another vacuous game of twenty questions. The outing cost me more than the price of her gnocchi or a marked up bottle of Trader Joes select. Where there's someone leveraging an indecent proposal there's another looking for a free meal and hopefully there will be some wine left when you find out because pride is a rough swallow.

Tinder: Part 1

   Swiping can no longer be adequately associated with petty theft or the ease of a credit transaction. Tinder has claimed the term as a recreational habit and constant casual opportunity to scorn or delight in the appearance and life summary of a person in 500 words or less. Online dating retained its taboo well after our bank statements had gone green and taxi companies had a reason to invest in a new business model. The flood gates holding us back from finding love online have burst thanks to the socialization of an app designed to take the paperwork and math out of matchmaking. Banks still have significant limitations across borders and Uber continues to battle for a place in major westernized cities but barring national internet regulation and an over-simplistic view of gender identity, individuals can connect with a simple swipe world-wide.

     Sitting in my car 45 minutes from home and unsure of meeting someone for the first time from an app, I received a discouraging message. After a number of genuine, engaging exchanges someone agreed to meet me. The ludicrous burden of playing God to decide the event and location of a first meeting fell to me for archaic reasons and 30 miles later she told me her age had been misrepresented. If a 5 year gap bothers you, try 8 with the promise that she's lied before. I decided to treat the situation as if my little sister needed a date to the prom and found myself in front of her duplex post knock. The fatherly bass tones of a large man struck me through the door as "who could that be?" illustrated my fears in magnificent technicolor.

     Minutes later she filled me in about the mystery knocker as I wandered the dark winding back pathways of a cookie cutter Thousand Oaks compound. I was decidedly uninterested in discussing curfews with her father prior to meeting this my second Tinder date and assured her it was not my knock but I'd be there soon. Deciding one lie breeds another I continued without shame and met her on the porch sans live-in father. The future is now and these are the scenarios we will soon expect as standard. LCDs light the faces of a generation disconnected straight down the bar as I write this. If all that seperates us from meeting someone who can change our Facebook posts from cute cat videos to conceited karat and cut qualifiers is contained in that illuminated square, I say swipe on.
 

Can't Buy Me Love

     Strange unpalatable nuts and nougats will be consumed by way of chocolate Trojan horses in the name of love this weekend. In similar conflict, countless comments will clash across Facebook calling out the corporate holiday and its cold taunts of the romance-less. Those who've got it will flaunt it as they should, oblivious to the trolls eager to ascend their bridges in lonely solidarity. Perhaps this date brings such divergent feelings because we've lost focus for the source of our celebration? Could it be that Valentines day is not for the beloved but in fact for the lover?
 
     A certain pressure builds in the shortest of months on new couples to prove themselves and those established to rekindle waning flames. The weight of a holiday centered on emotion can be daunting for those in or out of love, but this burden flies in the face of the saint's memorial. Charging over priced pasta and 24 karat rose gold says more about Visa's commitment to the relationship than his. In contrast, what do hours of food network streaming, a trip down uncharted Trader Joe's aisle's and a private dinner at home communicate? For the partnerless populous can we survive the hours of Kay commercials long enough to see what selfless actions offer the giver?

     Few feelings compare to finding yourself in the thoughts of a loved one. Don Draper's summer home depends on our addiction to this joy and an ad man's ambition is to maintain our self focus. Ironically something greater happens to the giver in this exchange. The blessing of teaching your niece to throw a ball or sharing a nonsensical conversation with the drive-by veteran under the bridge cannot be given. Love is sold to us with red ribbons and romance but Valentines day is for anyone with time and breath and enough heart to share them.

Netflix and Chill

     For the record I enjoy Netflix and on occasion I can be found chilling as well. However to miss this phrase is bliss defined and a number of subscriptions may fall victim to it's questionable connotation. Popularized by slothful sex seekers on apps like Tinder my first aquaintence with the euphemism came from countless condemning female profiles. Ample octogenarians will never LOL and boomers seldom find themselves "turnt up" but a learning curve applies to the adoption of any slang. Born of a social media culture content to copy paste their way between strange sheets this language affords the opportunity for a compromising tete-a-tete.
   
     His stale job description lended credibility to the position while justifying multiple tropical photo ops but it was the absence of shirtless selfies that really made Steve stand out. Relieved to engage in intelligent conversation with this top marks profile she was eager to draw back the curtain before wandering the yellow bricks too long. His suggestion to spectate a tennis match on the first date may have intrigued her had he not been one of the players, but it was the invitation to after party with Frank Underwood on his Futon that robbed her repose.
 
     Though the activity may be engaged in and sought out by all kinds, execution in the matter begs examination. Apparently the recurrence of "no Netflix and chill" hashtags witnessed in women's self-summaries is suspiciously absent from the men's. Steve's "keep it casual" approach lends a certain context for the dubious proposition and explains why so many easily identify ulterior motives before finding themselves in an uncomfortable situation. Unfortunately for Steve, this doesn't license him to ambiguously allure the gullible to his house of cards.

Dates and Flakes

     A layover affords 72 hours to catch up over pizza, renew the license set to expire on her 27th, launder, fold and pack or simply enjoy consistent wifi at the lonely apartment Southwest pays for her to leave behind all month. Attending one of nearly 700 daily flights out of LAX hardly leaves a moment to maintain friendships much less date. Though hers is an extreme case it's a city of inconsistent attendance and whether you're duping call sheets or tending bar, availability may be more elusive than the unicorn everyone won't shut up about.

     Last minute cancellations run rampant here with blame laid on sudden bookings, surprise 5 am call times or car trouble in a highway dependent city. Waiting alone in the uncomfortably vacant booth my waitress returned to ask again if I'd like to order. Moments later arrived an IPA destined to be shared only with Scott Van Pelt when after forty minutes I decided my first Tinder date resulted in me being stood up. After driving another forty back to the valley from Santa Clarita she attributed the mishap to a scheduling error not mine but I prefer to believe a 50 year old male catfisherman thought it better to remain anonymous.

     Real-time traffic updates, email to calendar syncing and tools for extra-terrestrial communication line our pockets but LA can't keep appointments. Population breeds anonymity and protects it. Within the dense crowd of options many lose sight of the person in front of them just as soon as their arrival and instead continue to focus on that ideal nobody in their mind's eye. Unfortunately this quality will force us to repel people as they become real to us and justify the prevalent flakiness in an already time-strapped town.

Deal or no Deal

     A thought or a word can end the attraction, like the ache of a partially completed root canal will sabotage appetite mid five star filet. A person proud of an agreeable nature and uncanny ability to accept those unlike themselves will find a crossroad if unable to identify their own deal breakers. Modern electronic dating asks their users to store a lexicon of attributes to hold up to a potential companion. Unfortunately these endless lists of traits may be met with disappointment where a short list of negatives would have sufficed.
   
     Blonde and blue with Ken's class and corvette he can press twice her weight while reciting Proust and smoking. She's airbrushed at dawn, tack sharp and accented with glassy curves but works for Trump. Met thrice before ever dating, their qualities stayed in a constant state of absent memory until finally he made his move. Before she could kiss and tell his emphasemic habit he'd already decided her compromising career prohibited a second date.
 
     I've made personal attempts at flaw-blindness only to identify some insignificant blemish strikes my weakened patience. Compromise, the anthem of continued chemistry should be applied to the greatest conflicts. To overlook significant differences cheats both parties and worse demands a change in oneself. While borderline British dental shame might fall to the wayside in light of timely humor, the traits that we choose to accept shape preferences and flexibilities we're comfortable seeing in our significant other. Above all the importance of discovering personal limits and maintaining them can be the difference between finding love or accommodating your future ex.

I Guess Height is Important?

     She knew my stubbled face from current photos, my blue shirt from a text and Yelp contributed the location. Conversations past outlined our mutual appreciation for certain Oscar nods and shock that kale became so popular. We knew details only friends would while some typically obvious remained hidden. I heard the familiar click of heels on concrete before my name as a question and at once I knew she was someone I would look up to. For some height is significant, a preference for many and even a deal breaker at times. With online dating rapidly becoming routine it's not uncommon for a person's measurements to remain a mystery even after something sparks. Whether your opinion is strong or not there is a psychological impact we must consider, especially in the land of platform stilettos.
 
     Apple boxes are tools used around town to bring an actor up to the level of the leading lady. Stemming from the age old fear that a man's strength of character will be found lacking in contrast to his stature, we compensate.  As paramount as these "man-makers" may be the fairer player is unlikely to be extended the same courtesy. Standards in media have been perpetuated from the start, indoctrinating the public to identify a couple by their proportions. Dark and handsome take a back seat to masculinity's defining characteristic but a man's measure pales compared with the specifications assaulting women. At once she must be thinly curved, petite but assertive enough to demand respect and an equal wage in a male dominated society.

     Height as a means to inadequately define an individual may not be the most pressing issue in our time but it's no less relevant. At 174 centimeters I've been called average to short in this town and admittedly taken on the French dictator's complex in times of regrettable inebreation.  When matched against six feet of triangular thespian fresh from Equinox I'm more likely to hire my new trainer than attract the attention of the only girl in the bar. But perhaps Dylan's anthem reigns true? Perhaps she's not counting inches atop her hard earned Louboutin's but grew up in a household with no TV. Perhaps Lloyd Christmas was right afterall? With equality at the forefront of social consciousness an examination of causation should begin our hopeful change.
   

Love in the Sprawl

     Even on weekends, clots form congesting the arteries of Los Angeles. Hoards packed in cans alone wait for a stranger's rescue across the guardrail. We struggle to make use of hours lost here with theories about Adnan and mold our lives to fit the traffic schedule that connects our work, home and loved ones. Despite endless midnight efforts to carve mountains and shoehorn more lanes into the daily commute, the swarm increases at an impossible rate. Our friends land daily in crowded jets delayed by gate checks or a Prius pregnant with dorm furniture who's windows dare not drop for fear of losing the infamous Epson since dried. I've foolishly dreamt of vacant apartment buildings but still they come. We stay too, long outlasting our invitation; mule-like we keep the dream alive despite ourselves.
     
     Amidst this cluttered juggle of lives constantly crossing we seek love. A chance encounter at the Edison develops into something worth a status change. Her invitation to a friends bonfire acquaints him with the 710 and after hours parking near downtown Long Beach. For whatever reason it doesn't work out. Since no Saturday goes by without its accompanied celebration, farmers market or sports championship, a joyous occasion can often be marred by logistics. A party on the beach inspires a decision between $40 parking or a two mile trek leaving behind a car soon to be accosted by meter maids. After an hour of zigzagging past lot full signs she starts to question her whole relationship with him and what length she'll go to celebrate. She's not wrong to wonder what kind would subject his mate to these frustrations. For the virgin LA driver it sounds so superficial but this might be the breaking point for a 405 adjacent girl seeking a mid city guy in between cars.
     
     So how does one reconcile the passion behind an impulsive nocturnal rendezvous with the inevitable DUI checkpoint and multiple construction stops along the way? The trials of a relationship are numerous without adding distance to the stew. It goes against traditional expectation of a long distance arrangement when two people can be so physically close but a flight to Vegas would be quicker. When creeping resentment stems from repeated traffic crawls only to end with Netflix and Dominos it can be difficult to distance the city from the soul-mate. Perhaps restraint when cupid's stray arrow reaches over the hill, joined with a counter-cultural effort to walk more might lessen the aforementioned woes. A healthy dose of patience, faith and hope is necessary for any love to last because inevitably the smoke gets in your eyes and no throng of tail lights can threaten the greatest of these.

Compatibility or Convenience?

     Here exists all kinds. As if New York was left laying around and God accidentally sat on it, Los Angeles is some kind of spread mess where every Starbucks is full with writers and actors just moments away from their big break. But while we've all come for our own reasons most stay as the manager of a bank or a software salesperson or the over heated baristas who fuel those dreamers oft complaining of too much AC on a rarely cloudy day. Whoever you are, you're hard pressed for community and to find someone who shares your interests and ideals is an increasingly complex challenge.
   
     While more of us turn to the pool of swipe-able faces and consequently sculpt the curves of our perfect match in our own minds we never stop hoping an organic "meet cute" is around the corner. But these apps and algorithms lean less and less on the things that we know make relationships work and more on data that place the dashing dog-lover near the puggle's sexy parent. This begs the query what matters more? In a time before massive metropoli a perfect match by today's standards was unrealistic. The community values of times past might have ensured the girl next door be more than a type but actually someone with which I relate, today she might only share a common love of froyo.
   
     Though I'm certain white coated scientists are hard at work evaluating our millennial culture's tendency to destroy their own relationships, the stats won't be in until it's too late to apply their warning. What we do know is the generation previous has achieved a divorce rate with ample room for improvement long before the internet melted away our ability to make eye contact. What does it all mean? From historically simple and intimate societies with relatively stable marriages we've seen new density drive our parents apart. Perhaps the convenience of the nearby now guided by information amassed with or without our knowledge could lead us into the successful bonds of lore.

No One Reads the Intro

     Full disclosure, I'm a male in my late twenties and I've never written a blog before. If you're reading this its likely you know me personally and have just settled in for a well deserved bathroom break. Perhaps you've found yourself exhausted by the politics or endless add-ridden slideshows on Facebook and decided as a friend to "check out my blog" as long as it takes you to finish that number two inspired by your morning cup of Robusta. Whatever the reason I'm glad you're here and intend to entertain first and educate second. If I fail to do the first please disregard any attempt I make toward the second point.
   
     My experience is all I have to go by. I don't read other dating blogs so if I deviate from the boilerplate I apologize to the plate makers and their effort to reduce the written word to a solitary acronym or emoji. If you've read this far I'm honored and impressed by your dedication but also concerned that you should probably see a proctologist. The only intro I can remember reading in my life was for a Gary Larson comic and that was because it was written by the late Robin Williams. From it I learned the definition of comedy and without which I couldn't make sense of this inane activity known to some as dating but to most as fuel for the uncomfortable situations that define our strange lives in Los Angeles.