The Hand

Never ever did I ever want to live in Los Angeles! The land of the superficial. The pretty boys and prettier girls, all without an ounce of substance. Movies stars, and flashy cars. What better place to recover from a blood gushing wound of the heart, than a place where the likelihood of finding anyone compatible with my brainiac nature would occur? So far, I have been very correct in my assumption. The very first "date" that I went on, having temporarily succumbed to an online dating site, was with someone whom I thought I could mesh with. Ideally, he was from the East Coast (a New Yorker), out here in LA LA land doing 2nd tier director work on a popular TV show. Adorable looks, and completely interesting to chat with on the phone, I broke my "no more men for me" rule. Plus I have to admit I was bored, I just moved here and lost my job a month after the move. Liking to keep close to easy escape routes, I met him at Pete's Cafe, a mere 2 blocks from my loft building. Always a novice at the dating thing (kinda more a hang out girl), I think things are going well except halfway through the first martini, and I need to mention that I am not much of a drinker, he has his hand on my knee. What do I do? Should I playfully push it off, or move my leg to a different position? As I privately contemplate this, the laughter and camaraderie continue and the hand moves higher. I am not shy of aggression, but *ahem*, this was a tad bit presumptuous even for me. We decided to move to another table for more space than the bar allotted, and as we are facing each other embroiled in a passionate conversation about ethics in movie-making... I notice that hand has made its way to my knee again. I am maintaining a charming and delightful demeanor at this point, however, I can't help but have the feeling that I wanted to punch the guy.

So its late, almost 2 am. He says, "Lemme walk you back to your place". I think sweeet, what a gentleman. Plus I am a tad bit inebriated. I am feeling all lovely and relaxed, thinking that the night was pleasurable and shall come to a close in a few awkward moments and I shall climb into my palace of a bed soon. Yet, he cleverly hesitates at the entrance to my building. He sighs, and asks, "Can I use your restroom, I really have to pee!" Aha! He appeals to my sympathies for those with a small bladder, and I agree. Soon, we are on my couch. I position myself in a clear 3 feet distance from him, yet he reaches across to place that hand on the very same knee. Moving in closer, he goes in for the kill. It wasn't such a bad kiss, actually it was kinda nice. The first kiss in almost 7 months. Yet, no sparks. Then he pushes me back, and I mention... you do realize that my daughter is less than 40 feet away? He says to me, "we'll be quiet". Is this how it is in Hollyweird? He leans in for more kissing, and I push him back. He looks at me to say, "Don't you want it?" I stopped for a second, and thought to myself, do I look desperate? I stare incredulously at him. Then, my readers, he says one of the worst lines I have heard since I was 16 from a guy trying to convince a girl to have sex... "Life is so short. Why not?" I wonder how the door felt on his ass. And yes, he still keeps in touch. Go figure.