Dates for days
Before I arrived, Liam* was one of the guys I was most excited about. We’d had a few fun chats on the phone, and from his pictures he looked just my type: slightly Nordic with a hint of trouble.
We were due to have brunch and a walk around Venice Beach. An hour before we were supposed to meet, he called me.
“How tall are you?” He sounded slightly manic.
My height – 5ft 8in – is on my dating profile, but I reiterated it.
“Oh, you’re a couple of inches taller than me. I was gonna say you could borrow one of my wetsuits.” “Wetsuits?”
“Yeah, I thought we could go bodyboarding after.”
Only in LA.
It turns out that being smacked repeatedly on the head by a bodyboard would have been infinitely more enjoyable than the date with Liam. Liam was a bumper-sticker-toting, all-out Trump supporter. Liam complained that the homeless guys sleeping on the steps of some of the shops had a “better view than he did”. Liam asked the name of every waitress and used it repeatedly back to them for no reason. Liam was a child actor turned promoter and art
“Sample of LA’s dining scene? Urgh, if I must” dealer who also “wrote some content” for “a few online publications”. (Not sure that Breitbart fan thread counts, Liam.) The highlight of the date was when he took me ice-cream tasting. Yes, the ice cream was delicious. But it also, mercifully, shut him the hell up.
That evening I thought I’d cheer myself up by going on a date with Sam.* He was a TV writer who once gave up his job to work on the Obama campaign. We met for cocktails, then walked along Ocean Drive at sunset, with the smell of cinnamon churros filling the air. An hour in, he turned to me, suddenly business-like. “So you’re single and 33 years old. Do you want a family?” Repressing the urge to shout, “Alright, Mum,” in his face and strop off, I took a deep breath. Here lies the main difference with LA dating: people do not fuck about. They get straight to the point. Even if that point is painful (like wanting a family), or likely to cause conflict (like politics), or sounds arrogant (like talking about money). Once you know this, it’s refreshing. “Yes. I’d love a family.”
It’s the first time I’d said that to a guy who wasn’t my ex. And it felt great.