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After I swore off online dating I honestly didn't think I would have much of a dating life, let alone anything interesting to write about. But crazy shit continues to happen to me and I find myself with an abundance of content to share. You're welcome.
In October I decided to venture out to Texas with the hope of finding good BBQ, true love, or a hot cowboy. I did find good BBQ 33 miles outside of Austin, in a creepy deserted town called Lockhart- home of the Original Black's BBQ (better than Terry Black's BBQ in Austin). Why Texas? Honestly, I don't know what the fuck made me choose this state out of all 50 states in the U.S of A. Maybe it was my obsession with Fixer Upper, maybe it was my fantasy of sexy cowboys riding around on horses wearing tight jeans, big belt buckles and cowboy hats saying "howdy ma'am" while holding the door for me at the saloon. All I knew was that I had to go to Texas to scope out the men and possibly find a cowboy husband to marry.
I had no itinerary for this trip, I decided to just wing it- which was unusual for me since I typically plan out all of my solo trips from the time I land to the time I leave. This time, however, I wanted to be spontaneous and let my inner guidance system take charge for a change. This year I got into the law of attraction and manifestation; part of that practice is listening to your gut/inner source/intuition and to not control every little thing in your life. Therefore, all I had planned was that I would go to visit Austin first, and then take the train to San Antonio.
Upon arriving in Austin I quickly realized I had made a grave mistake, and that I had chosen the only part of Texas that had zero cowboys and an overwhelming number of hipsters. If I wanted to be surrounded by hipsters I would have just stayed in Los Feliz/Silver Lake/Echo Park. After my brief moment of disappointment I was determined to make the best of Austin and find some fun. Nothing says fun like standing on the Congress Ave Bridge for hours, waiting for a colony of fucking bats to fly out from underneath it. Afterwards, I had dinner at Austin Taco Project, which had some delish tacos and great margaritas. I sat at the bar and met a very nice man who worked in the film industry, directing/writing horror movies. We had a great conversation about travel, the entertainment industry and life in general. Although he was very nice, and was familiar with my hometown of Burbank, we didn't exchange numbers and we bid each other farewell. That interaction sparked my hope in meeting other nice, quality men in Austin- even if they weren't cowboys.
After dinner I ventured out to "Dirty Sixth," where some people told me to go see just to see and others told me to avoid like the plague. While visiting "Dirty Sixth" two thoughts came to mind: 1) I was about a decade too old for this city and 2) I felt like I was on set for Girls Gone Wild. I managed to find a great bar that had a live country music band that was very good (I got them to sing Luckenbach Texas), so I hung out there and watched all the young college kids get wasted and awkwardly interact with one another.
The next night I hit up the hipster part of Austin- Rainey Street. It was a Sunday night so it was pretty dead, which actually worked out in my favor. I went to The Half Step and made friends with the hot bartender/bar manager, who of course was from California. He was fucking gorgeous and super nice. We talked for hours and he gave me free cocktails- he knew the way to my heart. Sadly we did not exchange numbers, and by the end of the night I had been adopted into a group of friendly hipsters who brought me with them to an amazing late night diner that served the best chicken and waffles I had ever tasted. To this day I wonder if the hipsters hadn't cock blocked me if I would've scored the number of that beautiful, manly, tall bartender.
The rest of my time in Austin was uneventful. I went to see the Longhorn Caverns, I drove to Waco to eat at Magnolia Table and visit the Magnolia Silos because I am obsessed with Fixer Upper, and then I drove back to Austin in a severe thunderstorm where I genuinely thought I was going to die because I couldn't see jack shit in front of my car because the rain in Texas is aggressive AF.
Here's the where the story gets interesting. I was sitting at the Amtrak station in Austin waiting for my train to San Antonio. All I knew about San Antonio was that they have missions and Six Flags Magic Mountain. My train was 3 hours late and I was bored, so I decided to download Tinder to see what the men looked like in the area so I could compare them against the men in LA. I was surprised to see that the men in Austin were just as ugly as the men in LA - on Tinder. I did happened to swipe right on a super attractive firefighter, because I had not learned my lesson from the fake firefighter. He swiped right on me too and started messaging me right away, as I was sitting and waiting for the train. He asked what I was doing, told him where I was going, he said it's too bad I was already leaving, and then I said "why don't you come meet me in San Antonio, it's only an hour away. When will we ever have the chance to meet?"
And he did. He drove down to San Antonio to meet me, and it was magic. I felt like I was meeting an old friend who I hadn't seen in a long time. It's hard to explain, but there are rare times when you meet a stranger that you just have a lot of chemistry with and you can't explain why or how, but you both know it's there. Those are the moments in life that I live for, and that give me hope for the future. We had a great time together, even though San Antonio was a deserted shit hole of a town. I was supposed to stay down there for 3 days, but it was so empty and dead- minus the drunk homeless people along the River Walk. So, my new friend drove me back to Austin and I ended my trip early and headed back to LA. As he was dropping me off at the airport he kissed me goodbye and told me to stay in touch, but I didn't think he really meant it. Why stay in touch with someone who doesn't live in your state that you only met once?
But we did stay in touch, every day for nearly two months. We talked daily and I felt like I had found what I had been looking for. Go figure he was in Texas, but that wasn't going to deter me. We were very in sync, we had a similar sense of humor, and we both had a passion for travel. One night he asked "how much is a ticket to LA" and 3 weeks later he flew out to see me. He was already putting forth more effort than any guy I had dated in my 6 1/2 years of being single.
When I picked him up at LAX it was like a scene straight out of a romantic movie. I was so deliriously happy to see him, and he was happy to see me and that moment was perfect. He stayed at my place and our first night together was incredible. The next morning was equally great, as we drove around town shopping for Christmas trees and eating In N Out (which for him it was his first time). That afternoon he asked if we could stop by a dispensary because he wanted to smoke some weed since it was legal out here, and I knew that he had wanted to do that and I didn't really think much of it. I've smoked before and had a grand ol time with my friends, so it wasn't a big deal to me.
I don't know what the fuck he bought, or what he smoked, but it turned him into a god damn zombie. First of all, he bought enough weed to get my entire apartment complex high. He bought joints, vape pens, weed gummies - you name it and he had it. Like, did he think he was Snoop Dogg? He only had one more day before he was flying back to Texas, and it's not like he'd be able to take that shit with him on the plane. Maybe he was planning on shoving it all up his ass and smuggling it back to Houston. He smoked something that rendered him boring AF. He sat on my couch for hours, ignoring me and watching old episodes of The Office. Not even funny episodes. I started to get visibly annoyed, which I had every right to be. Who the fuck flies out to LA for the first time ever to just get high and sit around? I said to him "I wish you were as into me as you are that weed."
After the beautiful dinner I made, he smoked something else and then proclaimed "we should just be friends." Ouch. I asked him "Why did you even come out here? What was the point?" He said "The same reason you wanted me to come out here." I asked "Then what happened? Things were great last night (before he got high as a kite)." He couldn't even articulate a fucking answer. He just asked "What do you want me to do?" So I said "Well I guess you should go."
So, the stoner cowboy collected his things, called an Uber, and disappeared into the night. He had nowhere to go. Maybe he found some shit hole motel to hang out at so he could smoke his weed, maybe the Uber driver kidnapped him and stole his weed. I will never know. My only real hope is that he had to get a random drug test when he got home (because he worked for a paramedic company in Houston).
I will never know if it was the weed that made him act that way, or if it was how he actually felt- that we should just be friends. My gut is telling me he sobered up the next day, realized what an asshole he was, and was probably too ashamed to reach out to me to apologize. It doesn't really matter though, because I learned from this that I refuse to date anyone who would rather be high and watch TV than spend quality time with me. Fuck that shit.
On the bright side, he left his weed gummies and I had the best sleep of my life.
