Little girl, Big City

7:30am 1.19.12

Scene: a bedroom in a spooky historical loft, just outside of downtown Los Angeles

Yesterday was a doozy.  I went to bed early and woke up even earlier than usual.  I pinged the dark horse to say hello.

“Hi.”

“Hey there sexy.”

“How was your day?   You weren’t on all day.”

“Yeah it was good.  What did I do?  Oh went out drinking again.”

“No drunk text messages.”

“Yeah I know.  Next time.”

I told him about the disaster of my evening last night.

“I wanted to participate in a poetry reading yesterday and I got stuck with car crap.”

We talked more in private.  Things that maybe if I decide to tell you, you will know.

“I have flaws.  I am not perfect.” he said.

“I know.  But thanks for reminding me.”

“You need reminding.” he laughed.

“Don’t worry.  I’ll probably use them against you when I feel is appropriate and to my advantage.  Because I have a vagina and all that.”

“What are my flaws?”

“I’m not mad at you right now so…”

We talked more.  He teased.  I taunted back.

“You don’t want to be my sex prisoner? I will give you a metal bikini and chain you to my bed like I was in a Star Wars movie.”

“My hair isn’t long enough to braid like that.  So I guess that won’t work.”

“Wig.”

“Oh so you’re going to send me wigs now?  Fabulous!  You have my address.  You can send more flowers too.  Pretty please?”

He wanted to trade something.  Something that if we hadn’t had a six year long history I might have been off put by it.  Something a bit higher in a demand list than a guy I went out with once had asked on that first date.  Well, almost.  But that’s a different story.

“Not fair.”

“So fair.  You do that and you get presents.  You can juggle all the guys you want.  With me as safety, trips, dinners, presents.”

That was so not fair of him to say.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s an exciting invitation. And, quite frankly, I might be a bit crazy for not taking it and running with it.  He’s my best friend.  He’s been there in the background for years.  I never gave him a real chance when he was local but he always makes a point to see me when he comes home.  I’ve had an open invitation to travel Europe with a man whom adores me… and yet here I am, happily dating one failed romance after another, without a passport and not taking him up on that.

“How far is Dresden from you?”

“Far.  Prague is closer.”

“Someone sent me a postcard from there.  The water looks so close to the houses.  Darling will you send me to Peru?”

“No I want to go to Columbia.  I hear it’s awesome.  Plus lots of h0t Columbians.  Hot Columbians and jungle and coke.”

“But dear there’s mummies in Peru!  I want to get a hat and whip and pretend I’m the girl Indiana Jones!”

“Go to Egypt for that.  It’s closer to me.”

“Take me?

“Maybe.”

Happily ever after… is here whenever I decide to go into the after.  This just doesn’t seem real.

11:49 pm 1.9.12

Scene: the kitchen/living room in a spooky historical loft, just outside of downtown Los Angeles

I was getting my hair done a couple of days prior when the blip hit my radar.  I have not decided yet how big or small that blip may be.  It could be an eeep, a bleep, or a creep.  But whatever it was, it wasn’t too shabby.  Our first introduction was to follow a day without pants and an evening with friends at their band’s listening party at my friends loft space at the Brewery.

I started to get a barrage of texts asking about him as I left.  The texts would continue through the duration of the date.

“My apologies, but I tend to attract the crazy ones.”

“What is he saying?”

“It’s irrelevant and likely dirty.  He told me that if my date with you didn’t go well that he would be home alone later and… you get the idea.”

Ping.

Ping.

Ping.

J was also in search of adventures and adores music.  Yes, another musician and a recovering Midwesterner former actor from a land far far away.  We discussed the nature of things.  Of history and culture.  Of tales of Ramona Flowers.  Of array and disarray.

The connection, as the tone of the evening entirely, was fluid.  Japanese whiskey paired with stories changed backdrops to this sequence of scenes as he and I returned back to my place to have a good ole dose of less fanciful potation: beer in canned form.

“I bet he texts again in 5 minutes.”

5 minutes later…

Ping.

“Would you like to be kissed?”  he asked politely.

It caught me off guard.  I had been enjoying the night and hadn’t even been thinking about that, even though I had been thinking about it.

We ended up on the couch.  He’d missed the train ride earlier.  I felt it was only fair to show him my version of what the rest of Los Angeles had seen that day.

“Do you always wear undergarments this fancy?”

“I enjoy it.”

“Always wear some of that caliber or better when I see you.”

And so the requests start.

5:45pm 11.30.11

Scene: An office in downtown Los Angeles

A ping came from the past.

“Little girl big city.”

“That’s me.  There’s a blog to go with it as well.  How are you?”

He’d seen the pictures I’d posted on Facebook with the dress I’d bought while out apartment searching.  It had been a few minutes since I’d talked to Base.  He and I went out once back in ’09 but nothing ended up coming of it beyond some very great conversations.  We have continued to keep in touch throughout the years regardless.

“Kind of sexy if I must say.  I’m good.  How are you doing?  Did you ever work out your roommate situation?  You look thin.  Did you lose weight Stavros?  You look in shape.  You’ve still got some curves.  That’s a good thing.”

It continued into business and further flattery.

“You dabbled in modeling right?  I’ll shoot you.  I’ll hire you as my muse!”

“What a coincidence! The little girl in the big city also doubles as a Muse for Hire.”

Somewhere there was confusion when I mentioned that I was looking for an apartment.

“What about this roommate situation?  I thought you just moved in with him.”

I spaced.  I didn’t remember telling him about it, although I very well likely posted things alluding to that on various social mediums.  I didn’t gather from the way he’d reacted that he had read the blog before I’d told him about it.

“I thought you were involved in a steamy relationship with your roommate as of last week.”

“Yes that’s still ongoing..ish”

“Oh Stavros.  How many hearts have you broken this year alone?

“He’s entry one on the blog.  I’ve lost count?”

“So what’s the problem? Don’t y’all live together?”

And then the inevitable story unfolded.  Some of it has been written here.  Some if it hasn’t yet.

“He doesn’t live in the real world.  His grandmother died.  He has an inheritance.  He hasn’t really ever had a job. Just interns.  He’s 27.  Going on 13.  He’s supposed to be writing a western right now.  He was going to school to work in city planning.  Didn’t get into grad school.  He doesn’t want to sit in a desk for 15 years to do what he would not be  for sure able to do if he went to grad school.  He’s thinking about moving to New Orleans. A place he has set in his mind that he can ‘forget about his problems’.”

“He’s a dreamer.”

“Yeah. So am I.  Why do you think I want to help him?”

8pm 12.5.11

Scene: a loft in Gallery Row, downtown Los Angeles

Looking back, I’m not sure how we got here but there we were.  It was one thing after another.  A domino of passion followed by pain followed by more passion.  Rinse and repeat.

The suited gent was on a destructive tangent.  He kept countering his actions.  One minute he was giving me the heavy about getting flowers from a paramour I dated years ago, the next minute he was telling me he wasn’t ready to be involved in a relationship.

“Why can’t you just be honest with me?  Are you just that incapable of doing that for anyone including yourself?”

“I’ve been more honest with you than any of them.” he told me.

“Why?”

“Because you see the man behind the curtain.”

I think about the morning I saw him in the windowpane.  He was completely right.

You could cut the silence like a thick fog.  He walked upstairs to his room.  I picked up my keys and grabbed my purse.  I don’t know why he holds back so much.  I don’t know why I do either.  But he’s right.  I’m right.  And maybe that’s why I was attracted to him in the first place.

From one magician to another- it’s difficult living in both worlds magical and real sometimes.

3:30pm 1.2.12

Scene: suburbia Los Angeles, Claremont California

“We need to get out of the house today.  It’s far too gorgeous for us to stay in and play video games.” I told my nine year old son.

“But Mom do we have to?”

“Yes we do.  Get your shoes on.  I will keep dancing and singing if you don’t.”

“Okay fine.”

He put up a bit of resistance.  My original plan to go miniature golfing didn’t pan out.  Apparently my dad had beat me to it yesterday.

“What are we going to do then?”

“You can go play basketball at the school.  You can show your mom.” Dad said.

We went to the garage and Ethan grabbed a basketball.  He started to dribble.  It hardly looked like it.  The ball was a bit flat.

“I don’t know where the air pump is so we’re going to a thrift store Ethan.”

“But Mommmm…”

“We’re going to look to see if there’s anything fun.  Maybe we can find something for your sister and your brother to send them.  Maybe we can find something for us to enjoy.  Or we can stay here and I’ll just dance silly.”

“Mom you’re no fun.”

“You’re not allowed to say that until you’re my age.  You have no idea how fun and cool your mom is.”

“I don’t even know what age you are.”

“That’s good!  Let’s keep it that way!  Now get your shoes on already.”

We headed out on a quest for treasure with a couple of stops along the way.  The swing hanging under the tree gave the illusion of it being an entirely different season.  I took a few photos with him playing.  Leaves fell as he jumped down.

“You’re going to break it Ethan!  The world is falling down.  Look what you did!”

He laughed and we continued.  He ran ahead of me.  I was still complacent from my weekend.  From every moment of this new year being spectacular.  I saw some dandelion sunbursts in the neighbor’s yard.

“Ethan come here and look!”

“What is it?” he asked as he ran back.

I pointed at the dandelions.

“Wishes!”

“What?”

“Free wishes!  It’s a new year.  We’re lucky.  Let’s make some wishes!”

“What should I wish for?”

“Anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Yes, anything.  Every day is chance to make a wish come true but you have to start by making them.”

“Ok.  Mom grab your wisher.  I have one too.”

“One.  Two. Three.”

7:30pm 11.16.11

Scene: a loft in Gallery Row, downtown Los Angeles

“I know what you two did.  I heard it.  I don’t appreciate it happening.  I told you I didn’t want it happening when I was home.”

I was a doe in headlights.  Yes, we had done the deed but it was when we specifically thought she had been gone.  We felt bad about it.  We felt great about it.  He and I were both in the moment.  It caught us and swept us away.  I couldn’t help but think that whatever it was was a serendipitous intersection to say the least.  What if this was the last chance I had before he moved to New Orleans?  What if I was never going to see him again?

I apologized emphatically to her and texted the suited gent.

“Shit.  She just called me.”

“I know.  You and I are stopping all together.”

My heart sank.  I didn’t want to be in the space.  I had to go home.  To the one place in Los Angeles that rang home the most- with my friends at the Brewery.

I called a friend and left a message.  He was at Mindshare.

“The house of cards fell out from under her yet again and Alice fell with it.  But it was comforting and scary at the same time.  Because this is the all too familiar world that she knew.”

Perhaps we really should have stopped everything that night.  Perhaps it was an omen amongst omens…

Why didn’t I listen?

11:25 pm 11.21.11

Scene:  a dive bar with an orange neon sign, downtown Los Angeles

It was the night of the extra couch surfers.  The suited gent and I had escaped into the bar that has the oldest liquor license in the city.  Little did my fancy cohort and I know at the time but this particular spot is owned by the same group that also owns our favorite fancy establishment in the city.

“Ask me anything you want.” he said as he bitched about his drink.

“I’m too sober for this conversation.”

“I’m not.  Ask me.  This doesn’t happen very often.  Take it.”

“I don’t think this is a good time to have this talk.  We’ve only known each other a little more than a week.”

“Ask me.  I want to know what’s going on in your head.”

The text came in from the woman who was letting us both couch surf.  We had originally made plans to enjoy the weekend together.  She was going to be out of town.  Now we were stuck sleeping together.

In between the hand holding and the kisses, he started to counter his actions with words completely in the opposite direction.

“You shouldn’t like me. ”

“Oh god really?  You’re drunk.”

“No you really shouldn’t.  I’m not kidding.”

“Why?”

“I’m emotionally unavailable.  I’ll cheat on you.  I’ll lie to you.  It’s how I am.”

“And what if that in itself is a lie?”

“It’s not.  You deserve better.  I’m telling you.”

He held me close and kissed me again.

Like the illusion that encompassed him- both things were true and lies at the same time.

4:25pm 11.12.11

Scene: outside a loft building in Gallery Row, downtown Los Angeles

It was a rushed turn of events.  My friend that I had been staying with previously at the Brewery informed me that the management was on his case about more than just the leaseholders being there.  I had to find another spot temporarily and it was to be immediate.

I’d talked to this woman on the phone the night prior and a bit that morning.  A friend of a friend was extending the favor.  One month to find that new spot.

I can do this, I know I can.

She couldn’t get there to meet me before the game.

“My friend will be there.  He’s staying with me too.  He just graduated.  He’s also staying there temporarily.  But don’t worry, you will like him I’m sure.  Here’s his number.  Call him and he will show you the space.”

The first thought in my head was “Oh great.  He’s going to be an irresponsible kid.”

I shrugged it off.  My friend Steven and I got in the car and headed over.

Admittedly, I had also thought in the back of my head “I hope that he’s cute.”  But the logical me told myself “I really hope that he’s not cute.”

The lofts were nestled next to one of my favorite galleries downtown- The Hive.  It was walking distance from work.

I dialed this boy.

“Be right down.”

Steven and I stood outside the checkered hallway waiting for the elevator to open.  I held my breath as the old black door opened.  Out walked the most adorable man I had ever seen dressed in a black tie, black slacks, white dress shirt and dark shoes.

“Hi, I’m Dan.” he said and shook my hand.

As he turned to unlock the elevator, I looked over at Steven.  I didn’t have to say anything.  He and I both knew.

I took another breath before he turned back around.

“Hi.  I’m Jen.  Nice to meet to you.”

1:45pm 11.27.11

Scene: a vintage dress and accessory shop, downtown Los Angeles

I’d walked past it several times but hadn’t walked in yet.  My pocketbook was in savings mode.  I needed to save for that new place I had yet to find and call home.

Her name was Billie.  She had been collecting vintage pieces for many years.  Her son was three.  She was dressed to match this gorgeous little shop of hers.

I waded through gorgeous piece after gorgeous piece.  I’d love to tell everyone about her little shop, but at the same time, finding it was like finding that hidden treasure at the bottom of the cereal box.

I nearly left that day without buying anything until I saw it draped on a rack with several other colorful silk dresses.  I knew immediately I was going to buy it.

I found a pair of hanging earrings and told her that I was definately buying them.

We chatted about her shop.  About how much my grandmother has spoiled me by giving me so many amazing pieces that she’d worn in her younger days.  And, of course, we chatted about things with that certain suited gentleman.

“We’re couch surfers in the same place right now.  It’s a strange happenstance.”

“How long have you two been dating?”

“Not long.  We goof and say that we are not going to date.  But we both know that we are. This dress will help.  We both enjoy going to fancy places.  It’s a good compliment to what we already enjoy.”

“Are you in love?”

Things froze for a moment.  That was ridiculous.  Was I gushing that much?  That was craziness.  I just laughed.

“No I’m not in love but I’m having a good time.”

8:30am 11.29.11

Scene: a loft in Gallery Row, downtown Los Angeles

This part of the trip was always supposed to be a temporary spot.  I knew that from the immediacy that it happened, and had been forever grateful to this wonderful angel with a name to match.  On Monday morning she reminded me again.

“My friend is going to be here on the 16th.  I just wanted to give you a heads up because I want the apartment to myself then.  Even [the suited gent] will have to find somewhere else at least while my friend is here.”

Now, granted, I knew this was her space, and it had always been my intention to move sooner rather than later.  However, was she just telling me he had to be gone too to be polite or was it really true?

It’s none of my business either way.  I’m going to make it so.

Another morning with the suited gent and it came into conversation:

“I have to find another place to be when he comes in.  We might both be homeless then.”  he said with a bit of a light unknowing laugh.

A flashback entered my brain again.  This time was the day after I’d arrived…

“I heard you two come in last night.  You two are hilarious.”

“We had a good time.” I said as I looked to him and bit my lip with a smile.

“You know what’s going to happen right?”

We both looked at her in wide eyed wonder.

“You two are going to get a place together.”

I heard a text and snapped out of the daydream. The words fumbled, but made their way out.

“Well, maybe if I get my place by then you can stay with me that weekend.”