Saturday, February 22, 2003

I just got back from watching “Dark Blue.” I had no idea what to expect. Five minutes into the movie, I was reminded of The Black Dahlia, the book I’ve recently finished and love like crazy. Even though the stories were separated by 44 years, I sensed a common pace. It turns out that the movie was based on a book by James Ellroy, who also wrote The Black Dahlia. He must become my favorite author. After I finish Fast Food Nation.

I met a guy after work today. It was my very last Internet date, as my subscription runs out tomorrow and I am tired of trying. We were to meet for a drink at the Rock Bottom Brewery. Lame, but his choice. I walk in the bar at 5:30, not exactly sure what to expect. His trio of online photos varies in appearance, ranging from very cute to horribly awkward. Really it was anyone’s game. As I am filtering through the single men in the bar, looking for the one that is waiting for me, I make eye contact with a man. I think it’s Cory. He smiles brightly at me, stands up, and exclaims, “Oh my god! Are you a model?” I recoil in horror, thinking that if this is my date, I am feigning a headache. At that moment, Cory comes to my side and introduces himself (appearance leaning toward horribly awkward). Man #1 loiters, turns to Cory and says, “You’re a lucky man. Let’s thank god for women like her.” Then Cory said, “God already finished his work on her.” Huh? I thought that was gay. Stupid gay, not sexual preference gay. Man #1 shakes Cory’s hand and says, “Thank you.” Then Man #1 turns to me, shakes my hand and says, “No, thank you.” I was sure to tell Cory that I hired the guy to ease our initial meeting. Wow, though. That could not have come at a better time—the same day where I started polling the office to see who thinks I need to lose weight. Answers ranged from, “God no!” (what I want to hear) to “You’re just curvy. You don’t want to be skinny.” (gag) or my personal torturous response, “You’re tall.” What the hell is that? Ugh. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this—dwell. Fuck you Britney Spears. You did this. You and your damned rock and roll videos.

When I met Cory directly after work, I hadn’t eaten and it was fair game for food. Dinnertime! Two beers and a movie later, food still hadn’t entered the field. Homeboy expects to meet a gal at 5:30, keep her out until 10, and never mention dinner? I dropped hints. Did I ever. But nothing.

Thus ending my rash of Internet suitors and our mildly interesting yet uninspired conversations.

Incidentally, this movie showcased the controversial police politics immediately surrounding the LA riots and consequently, Bernard Parks's exemplary rise to become the first African American Chief of Los Angeles Police. I wonder if Ellroy will write a sequel, detailing the Chief's gross mismanagement and fall from grace following the Rampart scandal.

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