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Health & Fitness

Coffee House Bastard: One Year Today

Can one really find love in the City of Broken Hearts, Dreams, and Windows?

One year ago today, I had given up on any hopes of finding love in Los Angeles.  Instead, I had found an inner peace.  I would spend the rest of my days living in and around this palm-tree and stucco-filled basin single, reserving all of my love for my art, family, and cat.  And that was that.

It had been eight years since arriving from the East Coast and I had done my best to date just about every type of woman Los Angeles had to offer...artsy gal, graduate film student, cute nurse from the Valley, not-quite-divorced doctor, young aspiring actress just arriving from Iowa, seasoned actress from Colombia who would break into my apartment each time we had a fight over the phone, phone sex operator, professional audience member, single-mother real estate mogul, talent agent, full-time protestor living in South Central, even was engaged for a stint to a sales manager.  Yes, I’m sure there are about seven million other types that I’m leaving out, but I did my best to diversify over those eight years.

The big advantage of dating in Los Angeles is that you have a big, wonderful pool of women to choose from, domestic and imported.  The big disadvantage of dating in Los Angeles that is you have this big, wonderful pool of women to choose from, and sometimes, that’s just a bit overwhelming to us, the visual ape men of Planet Earth.  Each of these fair maidens, with their quirks, likes, dislikes, phobias, psychosis, some looking to move up, some looking to move in, some looking right past you at the next great guy who is walking up behind you, they are all lovely in their own special way, but most, unfortunately, are not right for you.   To find that ‘one,’ sometimes, seems as difficult as writing an Oscar-winning script.

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So, one year ago today, I was on OkCupid (as I refused to pay for dating sites any longer, no matter how many times the eHarmony Doctor told me compatibility is something you needed to shell out $60 a month to attain), and as far as I was concerned, it was my last week.  My last day.  In the past two months, I had dated a flaker, a Roman Candle (burns hot for a few days, then disappears), two very angry women, and someone, I’m convinced, that must have worked for the CIA because she could tell me NOTHING about herself...only smile and politely chew.  Every date seemed to be the same...$100 out of my wallet and then the late night cursing on the million other ways I could have used that money.  Even if I could have found the slightest spark on those dates, I would have been mildly hopeful, but one year ago today, I was heading down the express lane to becoming a lonely Cat Man.

And then, on an absolute whim...a final ‘ah, f--k it,’ I responded to an ad.  She was cute.  Her profile was funny (though it ran a bit long, which concerned me).  And she seemed, as much as an Internet profile can project, nice.  At the time, I was working two jobs and really couldn’t make myself come off as anything else than I was...overworked, a bit depressed, and too tired to lie about myself.  I was who I was and wasn’t going to try to sugar coat it.  I was getting paid to write a screenplay (not quite WGA rates, but I wasn’t complaining) during the day and editing at night for a production company.  I had spent six months unemployed, so making money and paying off my debts were my priorities.  At the time, I lived in El Segundo, she lived in Studio City, and the only time I was close to the Valley was at night working in Van Nuys. 

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After doing a spreadsheet trying to coordinate our schedules, we discovered that the only possible option we had of meeting up was at three in the morning at a coffee shop near her.  All other possibilities just were not going to pan out, as she was a single-mother working two jobs herself.  “We really don’t have to do this,” I told her, feeling extremely guilty about making a woman meet me anywhere at three in the morning.  “Nah, it’s cool.  I’m always doing stuff late...it’s the only time I have to do anything.”  And so, the date was set.

We met at Twain’s Coffee Shop in Studio City, a cool, late-night hang.  I walked in, looking tired as hell after my nine-hour shift.  She stood up (all 5’2” of her) and smiled.  “Patrick?”  “Yep.”  And so we sat.  And ordered.  And ate.  And talked.  I noticed she was as tired as I was, but it did not matter.  She was cool.  So, we talked about like things.  Bizarre things.  She laughed at my jokes and I laughed at hers.  We told one another bits and pieces of our former romantic lives and how we came to this place.  We also agreed that there probably wasn’t a chance in hell of us working out.  Maybe we would become great friends?  Friends with benefits?  A late night memory?  Who knew?   We were both very busy people who hadn’t had much luck, but on this night, on this night that should not have been, I was enjoying myself.

After about two hours and three pots of coffee, we decided to call it a night (morning) and go our separate ways.  After walking her to her car, then driving my 30-minute commute to El Segundo, I sent her a text (I know, it’s illegal), thanking her for a great evening.  The next day I thought nothing of it, going through another busy day.  But, to my surprise, she replied.  We continued to talk, and reply, with one another.  I found out we were both avid Lakers fans, so we planned to watch a game together, and did!  I put no pressure or expectations on this thing that was developing.  I had failed at love so many times in the past, I expected nothing from this thing...whatever it was.  But, it continued.  And continued.

And one year later to the day, Tonni and I are still dating and very happy.  In fact, we are in love (unless she’s going on the longest lying streak in history).  No, I haven’t found the fame and fortune I’m seeking as a writer/director, but I’m getting closer by the day.  I haven’t bought that winning lotto ticket and I haven’t yet witnessed an F5 tornado (one day, one day).  But, yes...I have found love, something I truly believed was not in the cards for me.  They say love will find you when you least expect it.  Well, that a load of s--t.  Love will find you when you absolutely loathe it.  When you have given up on it.  When you have written it off for good, cursed it to hell, and then burnt it up in flame. 

One year later, I am proof that love does exist in Los Angeles.  It can happen, even to a Coffee House Bastard.  So it can definitely happen to you.  Just give up, curse love to hell, and it will find you.  Happy Anniversary, Tonni.  I love you very much.

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