Key Takeaways: Cemeteries make for lively dates, sharing carrot juice is healthier than solo drinking, and Mexico can be found on Hollywood Blvd.
Name: Drew, because we drew that first time. Remember? See My previous date with Drew HERE.
Length of date: 2.5 hours
How the date was obtained: Hinge
Where: Hollywood Forever Cemetery
It's our second date. We aim initially to meet at his place but since it's too far from a comedy open mic I'm planning to attend later that night, I ask if we could meet halfway. We do. At Hollywood Forever Cemetery. Now, I've been on a date at a cemetery before. It was actually beautiful. Also, Drew seems like the type to appreciate all aspects of life. So, a cemetery it is. I get there first and wait for him to arrive. While I wait, I meditate and hear crows caw. It's kind of creepy waiting in a cemetery without attending a funeral. I'm not there to mourn, I'm there to flirt. Eventually he comes. Our nerves form a human hug. We look everywhere else but each other's faces. I try to steal glances at him without seeming too intense. We witness a bunch of geese and make fun of gravestones that have weird sayings like "U R Loved". Why couldn't you spell it out? Why Boris?
A guy in a golf cart tells us to leave because they're closing, so after rebelling for a short time, we go. I drive us aimlessly asking Drew "right or straight?" Until we're on Santa Monica Blvd. and I see a Oaxacana juice spot. It's a hole in the wall and perfect. I stop traffic to pull over. Drew looks scared. We get out of the car and go inside. No one's home. As we're about to leave, a short lady comes holding a box of fresh vegetables larger than her torso. I get a juice, he pays, we leave. We decide to walk around the neighborhood because we have an hour and a half left to kill (pun check) before the mic that night.
We walk amidst this Latino neighborhood with loads of color and beautiful homes and lush gardens of succulents and bushes. We see stray cats and furniture littering the side walk. We admire the shades of orange that mimic the juice I carry: carrot, orange, grapefruit, celery. It's so good I can't drink it all--so I push it to Drew. We keep strolling and talking while transferring the plastic juice cup back and forth. I feel good when I walk and talk so I'm not as pressured to be in my head and be more in my body. I'm the Steve Jobs of dating -- I like to walk and talk.
After we walk a bit around the neighborhood, we get to talking about our religion or lack thereof, our tattoos, travel experiences, starting out in comedy, painting and what it represents, all the high-falutin stuff that comes out eventually on these high-pressured short experiences where you're expected to be vulnerable, but not share too much, but be attractive, but not bear it all. It's a balancing act I'm still figuring out.
After the neighborhood stroll, Drew comes with me to find parking for the mic. We park, I think we're gonna kiss, we don't. We get out, we walk, I see an empty parking lot, we sit on the ground. We play with some tent poles and watch the sky change color. A lot of talk about substitute teaching and I'm just feeling the tension. It's a desire to kiss and a desire to relax and listen into the moment. Finally, the mic is about to start so we get up to go our separate ways. He walks me over to the place. He thanks me for the cemetery recommendation, says we should go to another cemetery again. I say I don't know a lot of graveyards. We plan to go thrifting at some point. I thank him for random things that don't need thanking like the walk, the conversation, the juice, his physical presence. I'm just killing time so I don't have to awkwardly introduce the fact that I want his face on my face. Finally, he asks to kiss me. I say yes. We say bye. I grab his face. I kiss him. It's never enough. I'm left feeling stung, my face swollen with anticipation for the next meeting.
The future for us… I am seeing him again.
Next Week: We plan to hang out next week with no clue what we're going to do.