L A Affairs This is why I stood him up on our very first date

I was living in Hollywood in a studio apartment. The street was a bit sketchy, the elevator never worked and the parking was horrible, but I loved my little place, with its top-floor peek-a-boo view of the Magic Castle. It had two huge closets, some good friends down the hall and a manager who roamed the building with a baseball bat. The horrible parking was one of many reasons why my boyfriend never wanted to come my way for the weekend, so I reluctantly moved to his turf in Redondo Beach. I really thought he was “The One, ” but after three years of dating, he seemed to be in no hurry to propose. With my 30th birthday approaching, I finally asked the question: Do you ever see us getting married? His response: “No. ”So I packed up my stuff, along with my self-esteem, and moved back to the Hollywood Hills, only this time on the Valley side, in a little guest house where I could see the lights of Universal City at night. During this time, I was working as a sales rep for a women’s clothing line, and one of my accounts was Nordstrom, which had its buying office in the Topanga Plaza store. The buyer’s assistant was a lovely older woman named Ellen, and we would chat and catch up every time I visited. I stopped at the office not long after my breakup, and our conversation worked its way around to Ellen asking, “How are things with your boyfriend? ”“Oh, Ellen, we broke up. ” No sooner than the words came out of my mouth did she reply, “Well, you should meet my son. ” She went on to tell me he was a television producer, had just bought his own home and had a 28-inch waist. Not quite sure how that last one was a selling point, but I told her to have him give me a call. I had never been set up, but I thought, what the heck. Then I promptly forgot about it. Some six weeks later my phone rang, and on the other end was, “Hello, this is Barry, Ellen’s son. My mom told me to call you. ” We chatted for about 20 minutes, and I thought he seemed funny and nice, so we made plans to meet for a drink at a restaurant bar called L’Express. I was new to the Valley, and this was pre-cellphones and GPS, so I asked a friend where it was. Sherman Oaks. I showed up on the appointed night at the appointed time, sat at the bar and waited. And waited. Some rather handsome British guys kept asking to buy me a drink, but I demurred, as I thought it in poor taste to be drinking with some other blokes when my date walked in. But he didn’t walk in. So I reached an agreement with my new British friends. If he was still a no-show after an hour, they could buy me a drink. I figured at least that way the night wouldn’t be a complete loss. I continued to wait. As hope for my date faded, I agreed to a drink with the Brits. When the bartender came over to take my order, I told him what had happened, that I was supposed to meet a guy and he stood me up. “Well, ” the bartender said, “there are two L’Expresses in the Valley — the other one is off of Lankershim. ” My heart dropped. All data is taken from the source: http://latimes.com Article Link: https://www.latimes.com/lifestyle/sto… #thought #newsyoutube #newstodayinusa #newstodayoncnn #bbcnewsworld #newsworldwide #
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