When you’re single in Los Angeles for a year and a half, you deal with a lot of ego-bruising bullshit.   Here’s a story I’d like to share along those lines.  

Scene 1: Work Event- Thursday

Two Thursdays ago, I staffed a “work event.” We were setting up before the event began and needed an extra trashcan. To my left was Cute Caterer, involved in some intricate tablecloth folding. I asked if he might be able to bring us an extra trashcan. Flirty banter ensued about said tablecloth folding exercise. Then my (gay) boss whisked me away to assist in some other chore. “Is that Cute Caterer flirting with you?” she asked. Damn, he WAS cute. 

Scene 2: Work Event-Thursday

Outside stationed at the “Information Table”, Cute Caterer chatted me up.  32 year old musician/ caterer, not about to be the love of my life, but cute.  By the end of the night I was two pomegranate martinis and one glass of wine deep.  Cute Caterer found me in the crowd and handed me a torn-off edge of paper with two quotes from our conversation, my name written with stars around it and his number on the backside. I showed my boss and she insisted I invite him to the bar around the corner for the after-event-cocktails. I found Cute Caterer, and told him where we were going. “Oh cool,” he said.

 Scene 3: The Abbey-Thursday

Cute Caterer surprisingly emerged in the crowd at the bar. My boss insisted on introducing him to everyone “Do you know JOHN??” (embarrassing). We sat and talked long past my coworkers’ left, mainly antagonizing one another and eventually he kissed me (a making-out-with-rando tradition: act like jerks, then have sexy make out sesh).

Scene 4: Weekend-Texting

We texted a lot the following weekend and made plans to get a drink on Monday.

Scene 5:  Monday- My Apt

I had an anxious feeling in my stomach all day. He showed up at my apartment and immediately couldn’t keep his hands (or lips) off me. Uncomfortably, I asked if he’d like to go get that drink.

“I don’t have time for a drink,” he replied. It became increasingly clear to me that he is here for distinctly one reason and one reason only, and not trying to conceal it. No warm-up at all? That’s downright rude.

“You look really uncomfortable, lets just talk for a while.” He suggested.  He asked me about my family, I asked him about his. He has multiple older siblings and I asked if they have families and he said yes. 

“So, you are just a single boy…” I said.

“Well, I’m really not single,” he replied.

“You aren’t single?” I repeated, confused as shit.

“No. Don’t you remember… I told you this the other night, at the end of the night? You don’t remember?” 

“The other night, at the end of the night… You mean after you gave me a note, came to a bar and met all my coworkers, and initiated a hot make-out sesh? After all of those things, you told me you aren’t single, and I was fine with it?”  I said.

“Yes. What, were you really drunk or something?”  Pulling the “too-drunk-to-remember” card- WHAT A FUCKER, right?! I was completely disinterested in continuing the discussion of whether he told me or not, and told him that. 

“I just don’t understand what you are doing here.  Is this just something you DO?” I asked. 

“Nooooooo,” he said, “only when I’m feeling REALLY confined.”

I wanted to puke all over myself and him. I told him to leave.

“I’m sorry for causing you strife, this is just a misunderstanding.” He said.

“You caused me strife for the 10 minutes you sat in my chair. After you leave, it will be over.” I said, which was a great thing to say, and untrue. But I showed him out, accepting his “sincere apology” flatly.

I downed 2 glasses of wine, deleted his phone number and every text we had exchanged, burned the note he wrote me (dramatic?) and smoked three cigarettes in two hours.

Scene 6- Douchebag

If I hadn’t deleted him from my life, I would want to ask him this:

What about me indicated to you that I’d be a great girl to sleep with on the side?

Was it because I’m a good Jewish girl who works in nonprofit and knows about safe sex? Maybe that I’m smart, intelligent, ambitious, respectable, attractive and don’t take a lot of bullshit? Or because I’m charming, friendly, easy-going and pleasant to be around?

“You are a fucking treasure and they should all fucking know that.” My mom said in reaction to my tale (thanks, mom!).

And that’s the truth. And also exactly what’s so fucking dumb about being 23, single, smart, pretty and fabulous in Los Angeles. I’m a fucking treasure, and they should all fucking know it.

And PS– If you, Cute Caterer, happen to be out there, I just want to point out that we met because I asked you for a trashcan. And you delivered it. How very telling, you fucking douchebag.