Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Dead Bodies

I was having lunch at Finn McCools Irish pub yesterday on Main Street in Santa Monica. The place was empty, the bartender was bored, we started chatting...

Bartender: I am recently divorced after eight years of marriage and am new to the dating scene, is it me, or is kinda weird out there?

Me: It's pretty weird. Why, what's happening?

Bartender:  I don't know, I'm trying to figure out the rules of dating these days. Am I supposed to ask a girl for her number, or wait for her to ask me? And once I do get the number, why is it when I call, all I get back is some 2 word text message?  What's that all about?

Me: That's about being non-committal and keeping her options open.

Bartender: I guess. It's amazing that anyone actually makes a real date happen. Though I did go on my first date post-divorce last week.

Me: How'd it go?

Bartender: Good, but she told me this crazy story...

Me: Do tell.

Bartender: We were having dinner and the conversation was going well and then she starts to tell me about a time when she went hiking and found a dead body in the woods.

Me: (Eyes wide with interest) What? Where? How?

Bartender: She went on a hike with her dog in the valley somewhere and she came across a man's body. He had no shirt or shoes on and his torso was bloody from what looked like stab wounds.

Me: What did she do?

Bartender: She was shocked. Said it completely paralyzed her and took her 20 minutes of staring at him before she got it together to call the police.

Me: Whoa. Crazy

Bartender: Yeah she was completely traumatized by the whole thing, still has nightmares -sees the guy chasing her in her dreams.

Me: That's pretty intense first date conversation. How was the mood after that?

Bartender: Ah, kinda creepy actually. I feel like maybe that's a story you should save for the second or third date, don't ya think?

Saturday, November 13, 2010


I've been kicking around the idea of starting a blog for quite some time now, but had a hard time narrowing down what I'd like to write about. Last night it, while sitting at the wine bar at the Venice Whole Foods talking to a random guy, it finally hit me.  The conversation went something like this...

Narcisso (real name btw): How old are you?

Me: 38

Narcisso: Wow, you're well preserved.

Me: Gee thanks. So, you usually come to Whole Foods solo to eat a porterhouse on a Friday night?

Narcisso: Yeah, I don't like to go to restaurants alone.

Me: Huh. Why are you single?

Narcisso:  Maybe you already know this, but all women in LA are masochistic.

Me: How so?

Narcisso: Well, I've found that most women in this town like to get hit in bed.  I mean, really get their asses kicked. I'm cool with some of that, but these girls really take it too far. I mean my last girlfriend REALLY wanted me to hit her and it was something I just struggled with for awhile, asked a lot of my friends for their input on what I should do.

Me: I hope their advice was to tell you to run.

Narcisso: Kinda, but it took me awhile to heed it.

Me: How long is awhile?

Narcisso: I don't know, eight months or was a really tough decision. But yeah, I keep running into that over and over again in LA - to answer your question, guess that's why I am eating alone at a Whole Foods tonight.

Me: Wow, well nice chatting, I gotta run.

Narcisso: You're leaving? I can't believe you aren't even going to ask me for my number.  All girls in LA ask guys out...

Can't make this stuff up folks.