One of the most memorable calls of my life was one that I picked up from my answering machine twenty-one years ago, Christmas Day.
It was my first Christmas alone after my husband had left me for another woman (READ THAT STORY HERE). I was still reeling from that hit — and not because we had some loving marriage, but because of the betrayal.
I had gone on two very casual dates with a new man. Didn’t know if there would be a third. First date was for lunch at the Broadway Deli in Santa Monica, the second was dinner at Remi, a great Italian restaurant. Both were on the Third Street Promenade, and are now gone. It was followed by a game of pool in a sports bar across the way. Throughout both dates, I kept the conversation going, filling in the empty spaces with my unique backstory – growing up in the slums of Beverly Hills, my one-of-a-kind, loudmouth producer dad, my quirky, Texas-born, goyishe mom. Yakety yakety yak. Was he even listening? Who knows? The first date was October 24th and the next was a few weeks later, in November. And that could have been that; it wasn’t exactly a relationship moving quickly or even a relationship at all. But, for some reason, I really liked those two dates, as they may have been the first dates in my whole life. When I was younger, you met someone — there were no dates – and just sort of moving in right away was the norm. (more…)