Let me begin this by explaining a few things about dating in L.A. This city has its own set of rules. I don’t mean etiquette (whether the guy pays or not, opening doors, etc.). I mean there are things that have happened to me in this dating jungle that I never even thought would happen in movies. As a twenty-two year old in a big city, I go out a lot. Boys here are attractive, tan, and a dime a dozen. Notice: I did not say GOOD guys are a dime a dozen, just that the male gender is of a superfluous and hyperactive nature here. It has been liberating in a way, because if one treats me badly, I don’t stress over it since there’s thousands more around every corner just single and ready to mingle as ever. However, you do have to keep in mind that almost everyone here is seeing multiple people. I’ve never seen anything like it. The dating game you hear about in songs… its real. I GET why Taylor Swift hasn’t locked one down yet. This place is a madhouse. Also, one more thing before I move on, just as a side note: because of the crazy amounts of drugs and homeless people here, you legitimately STAY wondering two things 1) if people are upset and talking on a small bluetooth device or strung out and yelling at their hand and 2) if people are homeless or just REALLY into thrifting. You will never be able to tell at first glance. No one is safe.
Since being in L.A., I have been dating pretty regularly, if for no other reason, just to make connections and meet people. But a few weeks ago, I had a jarring experience that made me add a roof to the walls around my heart. I have never been more baffled. This story will be told in fairytale format, because I truly want you to understand the height and depth that this particular date had my heart exploring. Disney land has nothing on the roller coaster of a French dreamboat with a secret. *Clears throat* Once upon a time, there was a beautiful queen. She ran her kingdom with dignity and passion equally paired with love. (That is me; yes, I’m perfect).
Within the kingdom worked a marvelous chef who was sought after by every dame, peasant, and palace patron in the land. Though at first the queen was smitten by the chef’s charm, she knew better than to leave her thrown for a commoner.
One day, the chef came forward, expressing his deepest devotion to the queen and asking for a chance to win her heart. Although the queen was intrigued, she declined to entertain the chef’s wishes, for she had much to do, and little time. The chef accepted the queen’s answer gracefully – or so it seemed. Secretly, the chef planned to win the queens heart by cooking his most extravagant meals, and slowly convincing her of his affection. (Everyone knows food is the way to my heart… sneaky little snake) Finally, the queen consented to one night with the chef.
The chef brought his best bottle of wine, and after a feast fit for royalty, he brought the queen to the beach where he laid down a blanket, and brought out two wine glasses.
The queen’s walls began to fall, and the two people talked about where they came from, and where they were going. Most importantly, though, they talked about their feelings for one another. Finally, the chef leaned in to place what was possibly the most passionate kiss the queen had ever experienced right onto her soft lips.
The queen’s heart soared a she thought of the real future she could have with the chef. She thought of hanging around his apartment all day; she thought of deep thoughts and jokes shared. But the queen could not have known what the chef was about to say.
As the wine lifted the queen’s senses into a cloud, the chef looked into the queen’s eyes, and said in his deep, sexy, French accent, “I must be honest with you… I have a complicated situation.”
THIS BUFFOON HAD A GIRLFRIEND, Y’ALL.
“When I leave France..” he explained, “I was dating someone… then I come here and… feelings stop.. but now she has moved with me to U.S. and I cannot break her heart.” The queen looked down, “I don’t know what you want from me. I’m not gonna be involved in this.” (In real life my response was more like ” WHO-…wait… WUT”) Like, I’m sorry, I don’t know how it works in France, but here in America you only have ONE girlfriend at once or at least have the decency to pretend that you do.
While the queen waited for her carriage, the chef spent every resource he had trying to convince her he was the good guy for being honest and telling here his feelings were sincere, but she could not be swayed.
“I can never see you again,” she stated with her eyes to the ground as she left his side for good. Her walls were back up and they had a new roof labeled “check for long term girlfriend who followed him to this country”. Why on earth that is something I should have to ask a boy when asked on a date is beyond me. God help us all. Amen.
So that’s what happened. Not all experiences are good. But hey, maybe that’ll teach me to canoodle with the help. Queen’s don’t belong in the kitchen.