Two Left Feet, Literally and Figuratively.

Before kindergarten I was wearing 2 left shoes in an attempt to straighten out my right foot.  I was the outcast kid with lice before the end of 1st grade.  Asking my mom to buy me unisex Nike shirts and mesh shorts continued beyond 5th.

While in 7th I spent over 5 hours with a brush stuck in my hair.  10th grade had me walking through the halls with paint covered jeans from working with the theater's art department.  I survived high school only to enter college looking like a 12 year old boy.

During my summer job at an amusement park I was picked up and shoved into a full trash can.  After graduation, I was convinced by my boyfriend to move across the country to the west coast only for him to dump me when I was 40 miles outside of Las Vegas.  And during a large portion of this time I was a closeted hardcore Backstreet Boys fan.  What does all this add up to?  One incredibly awkward girl.


So here I am in Los Angeles living “the dream.”  I've basically climbed through mountains of shit to obtain a job that I actually enjoy and it's almost completely void of stress.  It also leaves me with a massive amount of free time that I've been trying to figure out how to waste.  I don't have it in me to commit to a part time job and volunteering doesn't pay enough.  I jokingly said to my roommate that I should start going to different bars throughout this sprawled out ridiculous city and write about my single girl experiences.

Then I decided it wasn't a joke.

This undertaking would continuously force me to interact with unfamiliar surroundings, including the people, specifically the men.  For those of you who don't know me, this is pretty much my worst nightmare.

Example.  I went to run a fraternity sponsored 5k with two friends at a college up in Malibu.  I had a bit of a freak out just walking to the sign-in table because it was a bunch of cute 19 year old frat guys checking people in.  I'll be the first to admit there is no logical explanation for why I was so embarrassed to approach some kids almost 10 years younger.

Perhaps I still see myself as that little boy on my college ID.

For those of you who have met me, well, then you've probably already noticed what a social dumb dumb I can be.  Or you just think I'm a bitch.
That happens too.

I've been relatively single for the past 2 years and prior to that I seemed to jump from one serious relationship to another, never really learning how to properly date.  This has made L.A. interesting because it seems that the majority of guys just want to date while avoiding anything serious.
And by interesting I mean a fucking pain.

Spending the night shift in an edit bay by myself doesn't really assist me with meeting other people so it was suggested I try online dating.  I have a couple good friends from this experience, but mainly it has been a disaster.  In the past 3 days I made the following notes and observations to give you a quick glimpse into the internet dating world.

I received the following email:
          Your profile is mildly entertaining, but I just signed up and it's 
          the first one I've read so I'm not sure how it measures up to
          the masses.
What is that, a back-handed compliment?

I suggest you continue on with your search, I already want to punch you in the face.  Now, if you send me an email, I read it, and choose not to respond, don't waste your time sending me another email berating me for not responding to the first one.  I'll just ignore that one too, then it's like you just kicked yourself in the balls.

You're an actor/writer/musician?

Perfect, you're automatically unique.  I like your headshots, but this isn't going to work.  How are people tipping these days?  Oh you're not just a writer, you're an ad writer.  That's interesting.  Are you employed, because you can't even sell yourself very well.

Here's an innovative idea for you guys.  Whip your shirt off and head to the closest mirror.  Wow, look at that chest!  Now grab a camera and snap a picture.  Just ignore the bright flash bouncing off the glass.  I've always thought the most important quality to look for when searching for a qualified suitor is the size of his pecs.

By the way, you know that picture of you in drag where you look more like a girl than I ever have?  It isn't funny, it's depressing. Thanks for reminding me that I don't know how to apply eyeliner.

Every site has that section where you can see who's viewed you.  Sometimes this is unfortunate because when browsing, you come across so many different profiles, you tend to forget which ones you've already looked at.  This is when you fall into the trap of accidentally looking at a profile for a second time.  It's like that super awkward accidental eye contact you keep making with someone sketchy.

All you can do is cross your fingers and pray they don't try to talk to you.

Lastly, if your username includes "ophile" I'm sorry, but you clearly have poor judgement and I'm not allowed to talk to you.

I think it's safe to say it's time to take it back to the streets.  The experiment of awkwardness begins this weekend at Q's Billiard Club in Santa Monica.  Why?  Because I figured I'd start this journey by throwing myself into one of the worst possible scenarios.  A bar overcrowded with past, present, and wannabe frat guys.  I've been a very light drinker as of late, but I might have to force my throat open wide for an uncharacteristic amount of booze just so I can tolerate being there for more than 10 minutes.

I'm sure throat and open wide just sent your mind to a completely different place, so I'll let you enjoy that.