The Happy Human

Originally posted May 2018, referenced on You’re Such a Catch Podcast S3:EP12: I Claim Community.

I happened to have three guys from three different apps: Tinder, Hinge, and Bumble ask me out in the same week.

This story is about Date #2: The Happy Human, age 32 (matched on Hinge)

After matching and briefly chatting on the app, I gave this guy my number. We exchanged a few texts back and forth over the span of four months. Yes, you read that correctly, four months! They were infrequent, but he did address the major holidays that passed, wishing me a Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year, and even a Happy Valentine's Day. He included me on his travels by sending me Snaps he exported via text of waterfalls he hiked to, and exotic animals he fed in Rio de Janeiro. I replied back, giving him insight into my wild and crazy life. Here's a picture of my 93-year-old Grandma's infamous apple pie she's teaching me how to make. I never saved him as a contact in my phone. I never felt a responsibility to respond to his messages in a timely manner. I never thought we'd actually meet.

During the period of time, we'd been texting. I hadn't realized he befriended me on Snap Chat. Occasionally I would receive a Snap from this anonymous person, but I never put two and two together. His face was never in the Snap, just activities he was partaking in until I clicked on his story and put two and two together one day. I decided to Snap him back, and undoubtedly this opened the lines of communication and led to our first date.

He suggested drinks and picked Venice which is somewhat of a mid-point between Manhattan Beach and Santa Monica, where he resides. He chose a Thursday evening, 8:30 PM. I worked, went to the gym, per usual, and came home to put myself together for the evening. I decided to wear a mustard yellow top from Anthropology, ripped dark denim jeans, and a pair of black heels. I grabbed my leather jacket in the event that we stayed out late, and I was chilly. I've learned to have no expectations on first dates since most end in an unfavorable way. This allows me to not really experience any kind of nerves. I kept an open mind, hopped in the Uber, and went.

My Uber driver hardly spoke any English. This always presents an issue because I am horrible with directions. We approached the corner of Speedway and Venice Boulevard, he pulled to the right and turned around from the driver's seat, indicating we had arrived. Side note, the downside of taking an Uber to a first date is if you arrive early or your date is running late, you are forced to go inside and wait versus killing time in your car. I was early.

I made my way to James Beach. I'd never been there before. It looked like a fun place and it reminded me of the trip I took to Jamaica with my mom a few years back. There were seats at the bar, so I went ahead and grabbed the closest one to the door. This put my back to the door, but I was okay with that. There was an empty barstool to my right and two to my left. A group of three guys sat on the other side of the two empty stools. The bartender approached and asked me what I wanted to drink. I perused the menu, craving a spicy margarita, but I didn't see one listed. He offered to make one for me, off the cuff, and I trusted his judgment.

My phone vibrated, and I had a text that said, looking for parking. I wasn't upset that my date wasn't punctual. We live in Los Angeles. You can never gauge traffic; it's virtually impossible.

In the time it took me to text back, a man hopped up onto the barstool to my right. I wanted to tell him the seat was saved but felt like I missed my opportunity to do so. I also noticed two girls had taken residence on the barstools to my left. The group of guys sitting next to them were trying to engage them in conversation. At that moment, I felt a nudge to my right, and the gentleman who took my date's seat wanted my attention. From what I could tell, he was rather short, wearing plaid shorts and a striped shirt. He had on one of those Newsboy hats, presumably because he was balding. I was trying to be polite and take it all in. His outfit reminded me of when a dad dresses his daughter for the first time without mom's help, combining: stripes, plaids, polka dots, and all colors of the rainbow. A little kid can get away with this; it's cute. Seeing a grown man in this getup reminded me of the movie The 40-Year-Old Virgin. Poor thing. He was trying to make small talk, "So what brings you to James Beach this evening?"

I wasn't trying to be rude, but my phone vibrated again. This time the text read. I'm like 2 mins away. Also, just a heads up, I have on all black basically and have my hair in a bun like when I'm Jimi Hendrix in the pics posted. I couldn't help but laugh. I've seen his profile picture obviously and had a pretty good indication of what was going to be walking in the door. I responded: Do you anticipate me not knowing who you are? You make me laugh. I'm at the bar—the blonde with her back to the door. And just like that, there he was.

He was handsome and unique, and I'm pretty sure every head in the place turned to glance including "Clash" to my right. My date was wearing a black leather jacket with spikes adorned to the shoulders. He was hard to miss at 6'3", about 210, and dressed in all black head to toe as he warned. He did kind of resemble the mythical unicorn A-a-Ron, and I have been in search of; his bun on top of his head like a unicorn's horn. Of course, there was no room at the bar, so we sought a new place to sit, leaving the mismatched man before I could offer some consultative fashion advice. I did manage to spit out, "Enjoy your evening."

We found solace on the other side of the restaurant at a hidden bar and proceeded to get to know one another. He told me about his job, family, upbringing, and where he went to school. The conversation was fluid. There were lots of smiles and laughs exchanged. I was digging the vibe and enjoying myself. Plus, I liked what I was hearing. He has a good job, a work ethic that rivals mine, and he has his master's from UCLA. Could he really be that unicorn I've been looking for?

We decided it'd be fun to continue our adventure to another bar. We ended up on the top level of Cabo Cantina and sat in front of the fire pit. It was happy hour, and they had two for one margaritas. Don't mind if we do. Our conversation continued, as did the laughs and smiles. Although we were among others, I felt like we were the only two people in the room. Our eyes fixed on one-another, engrossed in what the other was saying, revealing our fears, hopes, dreams, and everything in between. He was full of this electric, positive energy and his zest for life was contagious. At one point, he reached over and grabbed at my waistline. I immediately flinched and made a sour face and a comment about my fat. He said, "Just because you don't like that part of your body doesn't mean I can't." This resonated with me as I have struggled to have a positive body image and feel good about myself rather than compare myself to the ultra-thin supermodel women in Los Angeles. This Happy Human opened my eyes and made me feel like I was enough.

After consuming my body weight in ounces of tequila and sugary syrup: strawberry, mango, watermelon, we decided it was time to go. As we made our way to the exit, a group of black guys proceeded to acknowledge my date with a handshake. I appreciate black culture for this as white guys don't tend to acknowledge one another in that way. This moment led to about an hour-long conversation in which we ended up giving one particular guy relationship advice. As we stood in front of the restaurant, I couldn't help but laugh, thinking, I am the last person who should be dishing out relationship advice. However, this man thought my date and I had been a couple for some time. I kept telling him we'd only known each other for like four or five hours, but he wasn't buying it.

Finally, I was getting cold, so we decided to leave. Of course, after the margaritas, I found myself craving something hearty and full of carbs and grease. It was only right to suggest we stop at El Tarasco. I had no concept of what time it was. I thought it was early; I am a Grandma. But as our Uber pulled up in front of the little hole-in-the-wall Mexican joint, my favorite amigo walked outside and said they were closed. In that moment, my bottom lip definitely came into play as I pouted and let the disappointment show all over my face. I guess it's true. Time does fly when you're having fun and when you're pretending to be Dr. Laura and Dr. Phil at a bar with a random stranger.

Luckily for us, I have a good reputation at El Tarasco. My parents are so proud. My amigo from the back, who wears his hair looking like TV antennas, two highly placed thin pigtails with several rubber bands adorned all the way to the ends, revealing a little hair in between each one, appeared from the kitchen. He saw the sadness in my eyes and proceeded to make us a Carne Asada burrito. We thanked them, "Gracias, gracias, gracias!" and my date and mi amigos exchanged some additional words in Spanish. I forgot that The Happy Human lived in South America for a while and can speak the language. I think I speak Spanish well, especially after copious amounts of tequila, but I only understood a few phrases. My guess is they were joking about me bringing all my dates to El Tarasco after tying one on. Guilty. It's too good not to.

We proceeded to go to my place to enjoy our late-night snack. Typically, I wouldn't invite someone I just met into my house, but he seemed harmless. I went right into the bathroom to wash my face as I knew I was tired, and I hate falling asleep with my make upon. When I emerged from the bathroom, he immediately cupped my face in his hands and said how beautiful I was and how he preferred me without make-up. He planted a soft kiss on my lips. We plopped on the couch, removed our shoes, opened that yellow wrapper, and cut that burrito in half. I dumped an entire thing of salsa on the portion I planned to bite into and immediately was in heaven. He went to take a bite, and a little bit missed his mouth and fell to the floor. He looked at me and said, "Will your Lucy get that?" "Um, who's Lucy?" I said as I jumped up, went to the kitchen, grabbed a paper towel, ran it under the faucet, and added some Oxy Clean. I came back and dabbed the area rug where the salsa and burrito innards fell. He said, "Lucy is my housekeeper." I looked at him and replied, "In this house, I am Lucy." We laughed. Then the next thing I knew, he was sleeping on my lap, snoring a bit even.

I always enjoy watching people sleep. It's the state in which they are the most peaceful. He did look peaceful, but 4 AM was encroaching, and I knew we both had to work the next day. I decided to wake him up gently and suggested he head home before traffic. I awaited his text to let me know he was home safe and sound, still smiling, still reminiscing about my fun, spontaneous evening with him, The Happy Human.