In this week’s story, a woman looking for a relationship goes out with a divorced guy, a chef, and an architect: 38, single, Los Angeles.
DAY ONE
6 a.m. I have my trainer today, so the alarm goes off early. I don’t like working out, but I try to remind myself that belonging to a nice gym is a luxury and that I should practice some goddamned gratitude. Thinking this way at least pulls me up and out of bed.
8 a.m. Driving home from the workout sesh. You never regret it afterward. I work out at a place about a mile away. But because I live in Los Angeles, I don’t walk, I drive. I’m listening to Lana Del Rey. I’ve been really trying to listen to music, not podcasts, to feel calmer. I’ve just been really stressed.
10:30 a.m. Sneak away from my computer to make a fresh pot of coffee. I’m the lifestyle editor of a California magazine, but most of my Zooms are with people in New York (interviews with people I’m writing about, advertising calls; I do all of it). By this time in the morning, my workday is in full swing.
3 p.m. I basically don’t leave my little home office all day other than to quickly eat snacks in the kitchen and make more coffee.
6 p.m. I’m slowing down so I can transition into date mode. I have a third date with Billy tonight. He’s an old work friend, also in the magazine world, who lives out here and is newly divorced. He reached out after he got divorced because he knew I was one of those always-dating, always-looking girls. That doesn’t make me feel great about myself, but it’s the truth. I’m 38 and haven’t met “the one” yet. I’m okay with it. My eggs are frozen. My bills are paid. I love sex, and have a lot of it with various partners. Would I like to fall in love? Yes. Is there anyone in my life who I could actually fall in love with? Billy, maybe.
7 p.m. Billy shows up with a bottle of white wine. I have a little porch in the front of my bungalow, so we sit there and sip our wine and catch up.
8 p.m. When I go inside the house to get my computer and order us some food — we’re both suddenly starving — Billy follows me inside the house and starts touching me and kissing me. I can’t resist, so we quickly fuck on my living room couch. It’s great sex. I love fucking him. But did I mention that Billy is 100 percent emotionally unavailable?
9 p.m. Our food comes, and as the wine kicks in, I start to feel a little emotional. I ask him, for the millionth time, if he’s ready for a real relationship yet. Not even with me, but with anyone. He’s like, “No. My ex-wife broke me …” Blah, blah. I respect it, but I do hate hearing that. I should probably cut things off with him, but the sex is so nice, and he’s so nice, and I am not sure what to do. Eventually, he goes home and I watch TV until I fall asleep.
DAY TWO
6 a.m. My body hurts from the trainer yesterday (and maybe from the wine), so when my alarm goes off, I decide just to stretch for a while on my floor rather than go to the gym or on a hike, like I normally do.
8 a.m. Early Zoom with someone in New York who I’m profiling for our next cover story. She’s an older woman and tells me she wants to set me up with her son who lives in West Hollywood and is a struggling actor. That’s probably a bad sign, but I tell her I’m open-minded. Let’s see if she follows through.
Noon. I get a text from Jack, a chef, who I’m seeing tomorrow. Jack has the biggest dick I’ve ever seen and also has no clue how to use it. We met online a few months ago. He’s sexy. He’s right out of The Bear. But when we had sex after our second date, the sex was so bad, I literally could not make sense of it. Basically, he fucked me so absentmindedly for so long that there was zero sensuality or intimacy. It was like getting railed by a robot. But because of the great D, I’m giving him a second chance. He’s also a real sweetie, despite the affectionless sex. He’s an enigma.
5 p.m. It’s a pretty day in Los Angeles, so I duck out of work a little early to meet a friend for a bite in Silver Lake. We’ve all been through it with the fires, so it’s nice to come together and hug friends right now. I value my friendships and put a lot into them. I think that’s why I never feel lonely, even though I’m always the single one! The friend I’m meeting has a new baby, but she leaves the baby at home with her husband, and we gossip about life and love. She kind of hates her husband right now, but I think they’ll push through. We talk about Jack and how I’m going to get him to fuck me better tomorrow. And we also discuss Billy, who everyone agrees is a lost cause. Too damaged from his divorce.
8 p.m. Take out my favorite vibrator and watch a little porn.
9:30 p.m. Eat a sleep gummy and get some rest.
DAY THREE
6 a.m. I got a lot of sleep, so I wake up and decide to hit the gym. I’m really fit. It’s such a shame there’s no man to enjoy all my hard work, and tight bod, on the reg.
9 a.m. After working out, I come home starving, so I usually eat a giant bowl of granola and yogurt with berries. When I say giant, imagine a huge glass bowl that you would make homemade cookies in. That size! I also eat huge salads in that same bowl for lunch.
1 p.m. That woman who wanted to set me up with her son sends an email to the both of us making the intro. I Google him right away and learn that, in addition to acting, he’s also a DJ and a Taskrabbit. Classic L.A. Not to sound like a judgy bitch, but I don’t want that. I don’t need a rich man, but I don’t want a straggler, either. I want to get married and have kids, and ASAP, so I need to date wisely. Which does not explain why I’m seeing a bad boy like Jack tonight, but … life is filled with contradictions, I suppose.
4 p.m. Jack texts me with two dinner options. Both restaurants sound amazing and I haven’t been to either. I choose the Mexican place. This is the one night a week Jack doesn’t work at his own restaurant, and it makes me feel special that he’s spending it with me.
7 p.m. Jack looks good. He’s got the facial hair, the puppy-dog eyes. He’s kind of a short king, which goes to show you never know who’s rocking the ginormous schlongs out here. We order mezcal margaritas and catch up. He’s very charismatic and very touchy-touchy. I’m getting horny.
9 p.m. We go to his place, which is small but really well done: cool art, an awesome Moroccan rug. Nice clean sheets. We start fooling around … and he, once again, goes into this robot mode. It’s like he’s hyperfocused on sticking his dick in me, without any awareness of anything else. It’s hard to explain. It’s as if he flips a switch and is like “and now we fuck, capital F.” I try to slow things down. I’m literally like, “Hey, slow down.” I personally love deep kissing when I’m having sex. I like a lot of tongue. So I’m like, “Babe, kiss me. Deeply.” So he does, but it feels disingenuous. I end up not enjoying the sex. Again. I don’t come. I’m weirded out by him. And I know this will be the last time we hang out.
10 p.m. After a quick shower (he has this amazing outdoor shower that I wanted to try even though it’s chilly out), I get in my car and go home. I feel kind of ick.
11 p.m. I go to bed kinda sad.
DAY FOUR
9 a.m. I have a few in-person work meetings today, so I pull myself together. I blow-dry my hair, put on makeup, etc.
10 a.m. The first meeting is at this mansion up in the Hills. A celebrity Realtor wants to show me a few of his properties for a project with the magazine. So I drive up a long and windy road while listening to music. I absolutely love the Hollywood Hills, and in my dream life, I’d marry someone successful and we’d have a house up there. The drive alone gives me the chills.
1 p.m. After hours of real-estate porn, I’m starving. I take myself out for a burger and fries, and try to sit quietly and eat and think about what to do with my life.
4 p.m. I’m still stuffed, and I’m not in the mood to work. I log off early and try to garden a bit. Again, I’m just doing stuff to feel more centered in life. It’s strange … like, I have this sense that I might be alone forever. I know I’ll be okay no matter what happens. But I want to make sure that my insides are good, in case that’s how it turns out for me. I hope it doesn’t. But I don’t want to be a bitter or depressed woman if, for some reason, I never get married or have kids. I want to be better than that.
8 p.m. I’ve ignored texts from both Billy and Jack today. I need to move on from both of them. This much I know.
10 p.m. Quiet night reading and watching TV at home, then bed.
DAY FIVE
6 a.m. Trainer day! Did I mention my trainer is basically like a therapist to me? I get a full physical and mental workout every time I see him. He’s just one of those naturally wise people, and I cherish every bit of advice he gives me!
8 a.m. Driving home, I marinate on everything we talked about. He thinks I need to be more vocal about asking people to set me up. He says I should put it out there that I want a man who is stable and emotionally available and ready. He’s so right.
11 a.m. OMG, the actor-DJ-Taskrabbit emailed me. He asks if I want to visit a new ramen spot with him. Ahh. I should probably say yes, right? I mean, you never know? And I do love ramen, so now I’m just hungry thinking about it. I hold off on writing back for now.
5 p.m. I have work drinks tonight with a freelancer from New York I work with, so I’m Ubering there now. We’re drinking so I don’t want to drive. She’s about ten years younger than me and newly single and she wants to have fun. We go to a hotel rooftop bar and order cocktails. Then she orders a shot. I feel old. I like her, but I don’t want to get really fucked up tonight. I drink my cocktail slowly as she pounds hers and shows me all the guys she’s been texting with out here. They all look and sound like trouble. But she’s 28, so who can blame her?
7 p.m. I have a headache and want to head home, and her hot-mess thing is just too much for me after a long week at work. She’s trying to get us to go to another bar, but I tell her I have a migraine and get out of there. I feel bad, but it’s not my job to babysit her.
9 p.m. I download some dating apps at home. I haven’t been on them for a while since I was meeting people in real life, but tonight is one of those nights I really want a boyfriend, and I feel determined to find him out there.
11 p.m. I swipe myself to sleep, basically.
DAY SIX
10 a.m. An old friend has a birthday brunch today. It’s Saturday. Driving there now. I’m going to tell everyone there to set me up.
1 p.m. I leave the brunch with a few potential setups. One guy, Harry, sounds really good. He’s an architect and allegedly “normal,” and when we all Googled him at the brunch table, everyone agreed that he looks like Chris Evans. My friend who’s setting us up said he gets that all the time.
4 p.m. I pour a glass of wine and do some more gardening.
6 p.m. The text comes in from Harry! “Hi!! I’m told we are destined to meet. When are you free?” I feel utterly hopeful and optimistic about this one, even though I should know better.
9 p.m. I finally text Harry back that I’m free tomorrow and then again next Wednesday. We decide on coffee tomorrow. Woo-hoo! Shortly after, I make myself get into bed for some extra beauty rest.
DAY SEVEN
9 a.m. I go on a long hike and, again, listen to music, not podcasts. It’s so nice not to have the news blaring into my brain 24/7 anymore.
Noon. Catch up with my family on the East Coast, like I do every Sunday. I call my siblings, my parents, and spend hours on the phone and on FaceTime with everyone. It’s always the most joyful part of my weekend.
3 p.m. I hop in the car and drive toward Echo Park where Harry lives and where we’re meeting up. I love this part of L.A. too. Again, I feel goosebumps for my city, which is so magical and has been through so much.
3:30 p.m. Harry is adorable but intense! He engages in a lot of therapy-speak. Everything is a self-reflection, a moment of clarity, a revelation. I appreciate his inner depth, but I’m also like … okay, chill, dude. I decide it’s not a deal-breaker, but I do worry if he’s a weirdo. He’s cute enough. I’m getting pencil-dick vibes, but I could be wrong.
5 p.m. We wrap up coffee and hug good-bye. He asks if we can have dinner next week and I agree to it. Again, not sure if the chemistry was there. Not sure I want to fuck him. But I’m remaining open. He’s definitely a good catch for someone, I think.
8 p.m. I try to masturbate to filthy images of Harry aggressively eating me out, then fucking me really, really well. It’s working for me. After I come, I text him that I look forward to seeing him again — and I add a fire emoji. Just to spice things up.
9 p.m. I get ready for bed feeling something in between hopeful and cynical. But that’s okay. That’s life.
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