I feel like half my life is spent waiting for avocados to ripen and the other half is waiting for first dates to find a parking space in Los Feliz. I do prefer both my produce and women local. I shop at the local Albertsons, and search for females on Plentyoffish within a 5 mile radius.
A few days ago I bought a half a dozen bananas and set up a date with a 27 year old black nurse. I was excited to date a nurse because nurses have maternal instincts and are good at changing sheets.
I was meeting a nurse and she was meeting someone who drank a Bud Light in the bathtub and was wearing two different color socks.
I scored comps to see a musical cabaret tribute to the films of Quentin Tarantino. When greeting the nurse she went in for a hand shake while I went in for the hug.
“Bring it in,” I said as she looked down at the ground.
I gave the girl at the door my name. “Oh you have comp tickets,” she declared.
“So you didn’t pay?”
Would she point my socks out to the nurse too?
I led the nurse to our seats where I opened the conversation.
“How do you like Los Feliz?”
“It’s good,” she shared and then looked away.
Maybe she would open up about nursing. “What’s it like being a nurse?” I asked.
“I like it.”
The more questions I asked, the shorter the responses. There were so many uncomfortable silences I was in physical pain. How many times could I comment about the drink menu?
I nodded and waited for her to ask me something. Finally she got the hint.
“Do you like to travel?” she asked.
“Yea, “ I replied. “I love to visit friends, and love camping. Do you ever camp?”
“I’ve never been camping.”
Surprised, I said “You should go, but don’t go too deep in the woods where they don’t take too kindly to black folk.”
She did not get where I was going, and neither did I.
“You don’t hear a lot about black people camping,” I continued. “There aren’t a lot of Jewish campers either. There’s certain places in the woods it’s good to have have a ranger there to protect you.”
I looked at the menu some more. Nothing changed. The drinks were still over priced. I mouthed the words of the entrees like I was reading a gripping detective novel. I even raised my eyebrows to show I was entralled by the thickening plot of Chicken Marsala.
I finished my Newcastle and posed the question of the night. “Are you sure you want to stay for the show?”
“Sure, why not?”
Why not? Because time, precious time! Another beer and two hours of “Son of a Preacher Man” will not make this date any better.
“Okay, cool.” I said instead.
The show started and I paid no attention to the nurse. Each musical number topped the one that preceded. Highlights included my favorite songs from Jackie Brown “Across 110th Street” and “Didn’t I Blow Your Mind this Time.” Then the strong black female playing Jackie took it to a whole other level pulling a gun out on the dude with dreads who played Ordell, Sam Jackson’s character.
Ordell: Is that what I think it is?
Jackie: What do you think it is?
Ordell: I think it’s a gun pressed up against my dick.
Jackie: Well, you thought right. Now take your hands off from around my throat, nigga.
I gave a thunderous applause and looked over to the nurse who was staring out the window.
When the show ended the nurse thanked me for the invite, but did not thank me for the drinks. I walked up the hill feeling slighted by the absence of her personality and a proper thank you.
To make up for my mistake date, I made plans to see a voluptuous 37 year old in Marina Del Ray. The plan was to grab drinks in the Southbay. I was willing to drive 30 minutes for her wonderful melons.
She texted me back two restaurants that both had three dollar signs on yelp. That’s one more dollar sign than I’m used to spending, but to impress a 37 year old I’ll do what I need to do even if my check engine light reappeared and my car started to rattle the previous night on the way back from West Hollywood.
I had a few hours until the date so I turned on the TV and began watching Speed on AMC. Once Sandy Bullock took control of the bus I got scared thinking about the check engine light.
“Pop Quiz Hot Shot. Is this Jewgar worth risking your life?”
With Keanu wrestling Hopper on top of a moving train I left my love interest a message explaining the check engine light situation. She refused to come to Los Feliz.
As this was unfolding, I walked to the laundry room where I saw my cute neighbor Jessica whose clothes were in the dryer. Jessica and I have shared a few brief exchanges, but nothing significant.
My buddy Richard suggested he write me a letter that is addressed to her so she would have to knock on my door to give me the letter. I had a better idea which was to sit on top of the dryer and wait for her. Too bad she already took her clothes out.
I’m starting to think Jessica may be my best prospect. She’s definitely the closest and therefore, the best. I’m going to get that letter in the mail while I wait for these bananas to ripen.
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