We sat in traffic after making the foolish decision to drive to the Griffith Park Observatory at 6 on a Thursday night. It was the second date, a pivotal time in the early life of a relationship. Would sparks fly? Or would this relationship come to a crash landing? But dating is especially difficult when you live in the City of Angels, constantly bombarded with examples of day marriages and the concept of the trophy wife.
You develop the view that forever is fleeting and commitment means six months. Nonetheless, sitting beside Mark in his non-air-conditioned Toyota, sweat collecting on my brow, joking and sharing stories of our past, I really hoped that this date would end with fireworks.
Past L. Affairs columns. We met online after I decided to jump on the burgeoning dating- app bandwagon of my generation. Cynical from a recent breakup, I thought that if I prescreened potential dates, I would be able to bypass the one-night stands and crazy creepers. Within my first week of being online, Mark messaged me.
Conversation came easy to us, and before too long he asked me out. Our first date was far from perfect. Within the first few minutes of meeting, I thought I was hearing Mark speak with a British accent it was a speech impediment. At dinner, he was so nervous he hardly touched his meal, while I ate my entire plate of pasta, leaving me feeling like a pig.
I should have known better. This is Los Angeles. And my father kept calling and texting to check up on me. He still subscribed to the idea that if you meet someone online, you will end up face down in a ditch on the side of the But through the awkwardness, family interruptions and our attempts to locate a theater with a schedule that matched its online listing, we had an amazing time.
