Scott Speedman Shook My Hand & I Forgot My Name

I had never seen Felicity until last year and once I started I was hooked. Ben reminded me of my fiancee before he became my ex-fiancee. For a few weeks, every night after work I would watching Ben and Felicity and their roller coaster relationship and in some crazy way it helped me deal with the unraveling of my personal life.

In the end my Ben left me feeling broken and ten years older. Thirty, single and having a pre-mid life crisis, I decided to move from New York to sunny California with this idea that happiness and love were only a plane ride away. I'm still working on both.

 I love everything about LA including the traffic (yes really!) except for the men. I wish I was kidding when I say that the men of LA (99.99% of them) are douche bags and flakes, but I'm not and they are. The problem with LA is that every minute a prettier, thinner, younger version of you is descending on the golden state with dreams of making it big as an actress or model, but eventually settling on just finding a rich man to marry. So for someone like me; size 4, attractive, red hair, who likes to eat and drink (sometimes even alone at a restaurant on a Saturday, which I learned is unheard of here), isn't impressed by expensive toys, doesn't want a sugar daddy and who is brutally honest, I will probably be single forever in this city. I've accepted this and become use to being a ghost at bars. Men rarely approach me when I'm out, apparently I give off a bitch vibe. 

But, then last week for a moment I wasn't a ghost in the crowded, pretentious bar. I was somebody. That was the night I met Scott Speedman. I saw him enter the restaurant with what looked like a motorcycle helmet (I have a thing for motorcycle riders) in his hand (later realizing it was a jacket) and immediately said to my friend and the rest of the bar "That is not who I think that is. Oh my god. I'm having a moment." I repeated this a few times even after my friend told me that Scott was standing right behind me. A moment later he sat down next to my friend and then I said to him, "I'm probably going to embarrass myself here, but I love you." (I was on my second drink) To which he said "That's not a bad thing." and then he put his hand out and said "I'm Scott." As I shook his hand I remember smiling and staring into his eyes for longer than I think he was comfortable with thinking to myself (OMG! I think we are having a moment) or maybe he was just waiting for me to say my name, which a minute later I remembered. 

He asked how long the restaurant had been open. I said, "It's a fairly new place. Great until about 9:30 when it becomes douche bag central and then we start counting plaid shirts." He laughed and said, "Well it's a good thing I'm not wearing one." My friend and I resumed are very important conversation about the nicknames for the bartenders we have crushes on. He seemed quite amused by our ridiculous chat. Because really what does one talk about when Scott Speedman is eves dropping on your conversation that would sound remotely intelligent, yet not completely stupid? He asked us a few questions about the menu, but seemed preoccupied with looking for his dinner date who arrived a little while later (which after Google stalking a little bit, I think was his ex-girlfriend.) As he left to go to his table he said "It was very nice to meet you." See there still are a few gentlemen left in LA, they're just all not single and some are even movie stars.

The bar was filled with gorgeous model types as it is every night and yet he chose to seat with us. Sometimes being normal and the girl next door beauty pays off even though I didn't get his number. He's just a normal, nice guy who everyone thinks of as Ben. 

Scott, Thanks for making me feel like the popular girl and being the envy of all the way more gorgeous women sitting at the bar that night. For a moment I felt like the most beautiful, most popular, most desirable woman; even though I know I'm not your type. Maybe, one day our paths will cross again. You know where to find us. 

Kate

The Possibility of Romance is Over

 Could the greatest romance of your life last only one night?

Last night I had another non-date date with a male friend. Awkward would be an understatement. I was over dressed. He was an hour late and didn’t realize it was just going to be the two of us. I was nervous and had three glasses of champagne before he arrived. Dinner was rushed and uncomfortable and I couldn’t hear a word he said because of the very loud and drunk birthday party behind us.

After dinner we went for a long walk in West Hollywood. Window shopped for furniture for the house we will never have together. Talked about religion, politics, having kids, our past relationship and why they failed. Bought a éclair at Canter’s Deli at midnight and devoured it while walking in the pouring rain, which I don’t recommend.

I wanted to stay friends with him, but by the time I got home I knew I couldn’t be just friends. I really liked him and I was willing to risk our friendship for a relationship. He wasn’t. So, now we are neither friends or lovers. 

Can Men and Women Just Be Friends?

 I met a guy last month that isn’t my typical physical type. He has a full head of hair (I usually go for bald or shaved) and he has a beard (I’ve never been attracted to facial hair), but there was something about him that from the second I saw him I knew I was in trouble. As I write this, I realize just how crazy it sounds that in that moment I knew this stranger was going to a good friend or something more. As I’ve gotten to know him, I have developed a bit of a crush on him, but I didn’t know if he liked me as anything more than a platonic friend.

We like the same things, hang out at the same places and he’s just as OCD as me. We’ve been going out together three to four nights a week, sometimes as a group and more recently just us together. But, it was unclear if we were going out on dates or just hanging out as friends. He was always paying and he would walk me to my car and kiss me on the cheek, but I wasn’t sure what he was thinking. So one day I asked him and he said he just wanted to be friends and I responded with “Ok. Good” (which was a lie). The next day we went out on what I can only describe as the most awkward yet really fun non-date, date.

I had a feeling that he had just said he only wanted to be friends for the same reason I had, I didn’t want to jeopardize the friendship. So I decided I would bring my A game and really test the waters. The next night we went out with a group of friends and I wore a very sexy dress with an open back and a pair of to die for five-inch heels. If he were interested in me I would know that night. One to many drinks later we woke up no longer just friends.

He is great, a total gentleman, he can even cook, but now I'm regretting our drunken night together. Our relationship had changed, whether we wanted it to or not. I'm over analyzing our conversations and his text messages and I worry if we pursue a relationship it will jeopardize our long-term friendship. I knew what I was doing when I wore the dress and I got what I wanted, but did I? 

Spinster

Three years ago I broke off my engagement to a guy who was thirteen years older than me. He had the personality of a teenager and the looks of a twenty year old. Which I found funny and charming when I was twenty, annoying and irresponsible when I was closer to thirty.

We were together off and on for eight years, engaged twice, wedding dress bought, venue booked. But, six months before the wedding I pulled the plug on the fairytale. It was just that, a fantasy.

I was going through the motions and pretending I cared what color the flowers were or what the invitations looked like. One could argue that he wasn’t right, which I came to realize was true many years later. But, I think I’m just not the marrying type. I like long-term relationships, but I also like knowing that I’m not legally attached to the person when the romance dies. Which in my case it always does.

After a year apart we got back together (Yeap! I’m a glutton for punishment), got engaged again, but never got around to picking a wedding date.  It took me four more years to finally realize we were not right together. We tried to stay friends, but the past couldn’t be forgotten and was overshadowed by the bitter ending.

Maybe one day I will meet the elusive Mr. Right, until then I’m going to live my life and enjoy being single.

She's Not That Into You

Have you ever met someone and had such a great chemistry that it felt like you had known each other forever? I ask this, because a little while back I met a guy from an online dating site and we had such a great time together. Even though I was forty minutes late (That was the night I realized people weren’t joking about traffic being horrible in LA. Didn’t help that I got lost too.) and we were the only people at the bar it didn’t feel awkward.

The thing was he was a bit heavier than his pictures looked and he looked a few years older than he said he was. My type is usually thin and tall; he was short and a little overweight. I really liked his personality, but I just wasn’t physically attracted to him. I was hoping (as I stupidly do too often) that if I hung out with him more that I would eventually become attracted to him. After four more dates it become obvious that he really liked me and I was just not that into him.

He would be a great male friend, but he said he didn’t want to just be friends and so we are back to being strangers shopping for love online. 

Burger Well Done

I’ve debated whether or not to talk about my recent ex, but since we are never ever getting back together, he’s fair game now. As relationships go, this one was a relatively short one, six months of happiness or so I thought.

We were never right for one another and although there were plenty of warning signs I stupidly hoped that his quirks would grow on me. He had so many great characteristics that are so rare to find in a man or at least the ones I've dated. He was very loving, caring, supportive and affectionate, but he was also very judgmental, stubborn, a super picky eater and ultimately a jackass.

He was very stuck in his ways. Almost forty, he had never been married or engaged, he was afraid of commitment (red flag), thought that having children was selfish, thought that going out for drinks or food during the week was abnormal and he only ate burgers well done, Margarita pizza or well done chicken. Which even if you aren’t a huge foodie like me still makes dining out anywhere decent nearly impossible.

I had originally nicknamed him “Rainman” because without fail his schedule every day was so predictable. But, since I was dumped via text he’s become Berger from the Sex and the City. Although I still think being dumped on a post-it is probably worst than in a texting conversation that started with him saying, “We need to talk” and my response being “What are you dumped me?” which was followed by him saying “Yea, pretty much.” When I returned to his place, after just being there an hour before and everything seemed normal, he had already started to pack up my belongings. So considerate of him :o

I shouldn’t have been so upset given our differences, but I had gotten so use to him being around and our weekend routine. We were basically living together and just a few weeks before he had asked me to officially move in with him. But, I knew the honeymoon phrase would end eventually and I was super creeped out that his apartment was decorated with items left behind from his exes. All I could think was one day I was going to be another ghost which is mainly why I was afraid if I did move in with him I would be thrown to the curb when we broke up like the others, which is exactly what happened.

So, I guess the point of this story is never get to comfortable in a relationship, never move in with someone before at least a year together , never compromise who you are to be with someone (they obviously aren’t the right one) and never dump someone via text and be offended when they call you an asshole, because you are.

Los Angeles Men

It’s hard to meet new people anywhere, but Los Angeles is a city where your car is a second home. Going out takes planning, taxis are hard to find, public transportation is a joke and drunk driving is common. Dating someone who lives 10 miles away means driving at least forty minutes, add in traffic, it could take more than an hour.

Finding a guy in LA who likes you just the way you are is like going to Cabo to ski. It’s fucking impossible!!! There are exceptions, but they seem to always have more baggage than any metrosexual hipster struggling actor who doesn’t realize he is not famous.

The exceptions:

1.) Divorced with kids – They will commit, but they have major baggage. Kids, an ex-wife, they usually live in the suburbs to be closer to their kid(s). Most of their free time if not all revolves around the kid(s). How well does he get along with the ex? Why did they break up?

2.) Never married, no kids, 35 or older (for some reason they usually live in Santa Monica and in the same apartment since college) – They are very nice and polite, usually a bit boring, but they have major commitment issues. Their longest relationship is usually less than 2 years or more than 4 years. Run away immediately! Don’t believe the line “I just haven’t met the one.” He probably did meet her, they are still friends, he still loves her and he regrets not proposing to her because he hasn’t met someone like her since (including you).

3.)Paper Perfect – He’s not bad looking, great chemistry, is financially stable, has a house, no kids, but you aren’t attracted to him and just want to be friends. He’s totally into you and therefore you can’t be friends. 

Other basics:

If he seems to good to be true, he will break your heart.

Trust your first impression.

If you go dutch before monogamy, he’s either poor, cheap or an asshole. Sometimes all three.

I have a better chance of winning the lotto than finding a good man.

Wish me luck.

An Aussie Named Tommy Lee

Two weeks before Christmas, Summer and I were once again at Bar Marmont. Summer had struck up a conversation with Tommy Lee, a 29 year old, musician visiting from Australia who we thought was gay. He was the perfect distraction from her recent breakup. They spent much of the night dissecting text messages from Summer’s latest ex.

At 2am, after many drinks, Summer and Tommy Lee started making out at the bar which lead to a happy ending in the ladies bathroom.  Turned out he wasn’t gay.

Being the designated driver for the night, I offered to drop Tommy Lee off at his hotel on Rodeo Drive. It should have been a fifteen drive, but thanks to Summer’s advice to just go straight we ended up in San Pedro at 4am. By sunrise we were in Beverly Hills.

Halloween in December

Another night at Bar Marmont. Another story.

At midnight, a tall, handsome gentleman walked into the bar in a marine uniform. Women were buying him drinks, clamoring for his attention. He ended up standing next to me. I thought it was my lucky night. Half an hour later, I had learned he was 40 and worked for a secret department of the government. He had just been transferred to California for a new case. I sensed something wasn’t right about his story, but when he asked me to the Marine Corp Ball with him the following night, I jumped at the chance. The next morning, he called to say he was sorry, but he had to fly back to Washington D.C. immediately due to a government emergency.

After a google search, it turned out that he wasn’t a marine or working for the government at all. He was a lawyer living in Virginia with a wife and kids.

Days later he contacted me again. “I didn’t realize Halloween was in December,” I said. "I never said I was single," he said. 

Date #2, Fail

Bar Marmont

LA is a city where anything is possible if you look and act the part. This is a city of models, actors and agents, after all. You never know who you might be talking to.

My first night in LA, my bff Summer (you might remember her from the Love Bites blog. She’s back in LA now) took me out to Bar Marmont which is a short walk from the infamous Chateau Marmont on Sunset Boulevard in West Hollywood. The mantra of Bar Marmont is “I am young, I am cool and damn it, people want to be me!” which is a pretty spot on description of the place. On the weekends you never know who you might see or meet.  

Every time I go here I always end up with hilarious stories, but never a second date. That night was no exception. At 1am, I started a conversation with a divorced, 42 year old, good-looking guy who had a teenager daughter. 

Why is it that men will tell you almost all of their baggage in five minutes if you are seating next to them at a bar, but on a proper date or during daytime hours they reveal nothing? Perhaps because they think they have a chance at getting lucky.

And why do women think that their honesty deserves a reward? Lonely and drunk at 1am perhaps.

Turned out the guy was a helicopter stunt man who worked on a bunch of Tom Cruise movies.  We exchanged numbers and a few nights late I went to a poker party he was hosting at a friend’s house in the valley. I should have known better when he told me it was 420 friendly. Turned out it was all drug friendly. I’m not any drug friendly.

In between bartending, setting up lines of cocaine on the kitchen counter and keeping an eye on the surveillance cameras recording activity around the house, because the poker party was totally illegal, he told me he was a drug dealer at night. Just in case I hadn’t figured that out already. Needless to say I left after an hour and never heard from him again.

Date #1, Fail

Dating Blows

For those of you who stumbled upon this site after a google search for something related or unrelated to this page, welcome. If you are a follower of Love Bites (http://summerpeterson.blogspot.com) welcome as well. This blog was created because dating in Los Angeles is like an urban myth. The men here are all characters; some good, some bad and some so terrible that I'm seriously considering never dating again.

I hadn’t completely given up on love yet, so six months ago after breaking up with my fiancé (it would take a lifetime to explain why, so I won’t), I followed my heart and moved across the country to Los Angeles, the place where dreams come true and love is in the air, or so I thought. A few stories about our relationship were documented over the years on the Love Bites blog. We were on and off for eight years which like most relationships ended quite horribly. Like Taylor Swift and any one of her exes we too are never ever getting back together.

Turns out happily ever after stories were created by writers who tend to find love in the form of alcohol, drugs, caffeine or sugar.  So here I am living in the Hollywood Hills thinking that if Lauren Conrad can find love here so can I. Turns out reality television is less truthful and less hopeful than Days of our Lives.