My love life is pretty much a comedy of errors. Its humorous, with slapstick aspects, but more or less farcical. I’m considering writing about being single in los angeles in 21st century. Stehen king says you should write something that is distinctly your own. I feel I’ve got something like that going on. You know what I’m talking about, because, well you’ve read this blog. So, here is the latest example of the humor that is my romantic intentions. And I’m not intending anything because i’m just trying to go out and have a good time. So, this is my friend Jeremy’s last weekend in town. He’s moving to Chicago. His dad was terminally ill, and he was planning to move back to the mid west to be in closer proximity to his father. Unfortunately, his dad passed early, but the move is still on. So, we’re at Akbar…a group of 5 single straight women, one lesbian, and Jeremy. Akbar caters to the gays and straight of Los Feliz because the music is usually good, the drinks are sometimes strong, but the place is always cheap. Everyone has disappeared except myself and a girl I just met tonight, who is a welcome addition to the entourage (all the girls know each other from work) and she’s telling me about how she met this guy she likes. Well, we’re sitting there talking, and this guy comes over and hands me this rose. He begins to talk, and I’m a little hesitant, because I have no idea what’s going on (I thought he just wanted me to smell it), but ever the gracious one, I take the rose and say thank you. He says something about the rose being from Ireland (He’s from Ireland, and has the accent to prove it), and says that he saw me sitting over here and thought I was lovely, and brought me this rose. I smile, and he looks nervous, and kind of like he’s going to escape, so I ask him his name (Johnny or something like that) and I shake his hand and tell him my name is Candace. And he smiles…and disappears. It was really nice. I think he and his friends were hanging out near the bar somewhere, but they disappeared when we went around looking for him. What was awkward was that it was only me and the other girl talking, talking about how to meet guys…and he just appears. He looks straight. I mean, he’s scruffy, and in a polo shirt, with facial hair. But he disappears. I even sent a friend out to scan the bar for him, but to no avail. WHAT? How incredibly nice? And where the hell do you get roses in Los Angeles sans the vendors that go around while your at the club or a nice restaurant, and try to sell those red roses wrapped in plastic. These roses smell amazing. They’re sitting on my coffee table, and I can smell their fragrance even as I sit away from them. The situation was just so different, that I wondered, what if these roses are poisonous, sucessfully entering us all into the world of a comic book. But still…what? See what I’m talking about…a comedy of errors. Oh, you want to know which component of this all is ironic, or pun like…well, for one…we were in a GAY BAR! (eye roll).
its like that british show, coupling, where their all young people in their 20’s trying to make things work financially, romantically, emotionally, and physically. Except, its real, not like Melrose Place, which is over the top dramatic…but real…meaning its awkward, almost painful. Goodness. Goodness.
Okay, here is me actually holding them..because that was a damn good picture that i took with my cell phone.