It’s 2 a.m.
There are sirens outside my window. Occasionally, I hear the soft call down the street from a voice in the distance. It’s strange. I definitely feel foreign. The difference is this time, I’m not struggling to fit in. I don’t want to be these people. That would be fake.
Instead I have found myself writing my own story. I’m the main character, and all around me life plays out. I am that small town girl, living in L.A, genuinely enjoying her life. The best part is I’m doing it my way. I’m not negotiating my character or morale.
When I arrived into L.A I did a number of things. I met up with friends downtown for a birthday celebration. I went to the beach another day. Yesterday I was at the Los Angeles Country Club. Last night I met up with my friend Kingsley, (some of you probably know him from YouTube, and if you don’t, look him up. He’s hysterical). We joined two of his other friends in West Hollywood, and if you know nothing about L.A, West Hollywood is the “gay area”. Street to street. Wall to wall. GAY.
There are guy bars, and girl bars. Mixed bars. Bars for over thirty. Bars 18 and up (not for drinking). It has a little something for everyone to just go out and have a good time. We went to boy bars (since I was with three ridiculously good looking gay men.
Have no fear. Regardless of the fact that I was at a boy gay bar, I still got hit on. Twice… Well, two and a half times I think. What I found very quickly is I won’t be dating in Los Angeles. The first girl, while nice was just absolutely not my type. When she had to ask if I was gay, I was a little thrown off. I forgot that not everyone here is. A lot of straight women attend these bars with there boys, and here I was fluttering like a fruit fly. I thanked her, and continued dancing.
I finally agreed to dance with someone, but that was short lived. After thirty seconds, she tried to kiss me, and to be frank “I’m not that girl”. I backed away, grabbed my friend Matt and fled the scene.
The “half” time occurred as we were walking back to pick up my car from valet. I was walking down the sidewalk attempting to instagram a photo when out of nowhere I felt someone grab my crotch. I’m really not sure why she did it, or if that was her attempt to make a pass but the girl whose hand just invaded my space was walking in the other direction, and kept right on going.
I was shocked, livid, appalled, etc…
Why does L.A seem so much more fast paced, even in it’s night life? Why does everything have to be zero to sixty? It’s a bar. I came to dance. Not be mauled by feline predators. What happened to chivalry? Yes. I said it. It applies to you too ladies. In my first week in L.A I need to tell you that my biggest concern is that we’ve lost respect for ourselves and each other. One of the best things about being a woman and dating women is that in a lot of ways we understand each other in an unspoken manner.
Deep down, were all looking for the same thing whether we want to admit it or not. We’re looking for genuine conversation. We’re looking for someone to eat the color of Skittles that aren’t our favorites. Someone who holds our hand for no reason, when she whispers in your ear that you’re beautiful… And means it. We’re looking for someone who “wants” us, but also respects us.
Some girls like the “bad girl” thing… But is that ever going to work long term? Eventually you’ll get tired of being ignored, or treated like shit. You’ll begin to resent the other person, and watch what once was “good” fall to hell simply because you pretended to be something you weren’t or want something you didn’t.
Be honest… With yourself, and those around you. That’s the only way you’ll find contentment.
Start my new internship tomorrow. I’ll let you know how it goes!