Lifestyle
L.A. Affairs: After 20 years of absurd romances, was dating my neighbor worth the risk?
Two years ago, I ditched any semblance of cheesy dating apps in favor of meeting the love of my life organically, like in the olden days.
On a chilly, spring Friday night, I scanned my monochromatic closet in an attempt to select an upscale casual lewk that would pair with “comfortable walking shoes,” which my bookish neighbor advised me to wear for our first playdate.
That’s when it hit me. I was hoping that he knew this wasn’t an actual date. I wanted to text him to manage his expectations. But it was already 10 p.m. and it felt inappropriately late.
The next day, we were en route to brunch at Perch, the rooftop restaurant in downtown L.A., when he told me that he worked in finance. I mentioned that I had a book underway.
“I don’t want to be in it,” he stammered.
Utterly befuddled, I asked him to clarify.
“You’re writing a love and dating book, and we’re on a date …”
My cinnamon brown skin flushed hot red. “I thought we were neighborly hanging out … because I don’t date my neighbors.”
“I don’t either, but I figured since you live on the other side of the building and I never see you, it’d be fine,” he said.
I clenched my teeth and mentally kicked myself for not listening to my intuition. His rationale was flawed, but my blood-sugar level was dropping rapidly. Plus, he was in the driver’s seat.
I’d met him two months prior on my hellish moving day that commenced in Orange County, just as the sun set and darkness crept in. The management office was closed. My garage keys were in my apartment, and I didn’t have a way to maneuver behind the ironclad gates until my neighbor came to the rescue.
On two more unexpected run-ins we exchanged surface-level pleasantries, but romantic sparks never ignited for me. However, the lack of fireworks didn’t halt present-day, 37-year-old me from taking a leap of faith by giving a new potential beau a chance.
After dating one too many fun boys, toxic boys and all-the-wrong boys, I’ve yielded to the hard-earned wisdom gained from 20 years of absurd romances — heeding psychologists’ suggestions (and a nagging intuition) — to choose a partner who calms my nervous system instead of someone who gives me a flurry of butterflies that dissipate.
Because I was essentially trapped with my neighbor, I pivoted my focus to tallying up his admirable qualities, including our shared love for well-seasoned healthy cuisines. In between bites of my mushroom omelet at Perch, we bonded over our dysfunctional families, perfectly depicted in our favorite binge show, “The Bear.” Later, when the chipper waitress asked if we’d like to take my neighbor’s extra plate of food to-go, I declined. Upon second thought, my face brightened.
“Let’s give it to a homeless person,” he said.
“You stole the words out of my mouth.”
His generous heart earned him a gold star on my invisible “potential lover” chart.
Also, my comfy sneakers proved practical as we meandered each cavernous nook at the Last Bookstore, took a quick ride up and down Angels Flight and quenched our afternoon thirst by sipping pressed juice at Grand Central Market, where we aligned on feeling like outsiders fantasizing about moving abroad one day. He’s Italian, Jewish and Mexican but bemoaned that none of the cultures embedded in his DNA accepted him as such. I’m Black, white, Cape Verdean and Indigenous, and I’ve never fit into any singular box I check.
I initially resisted ending the night savoring Ethiopian food, but I admired that he intently listened to me rattle off my peculiar long list of chronic ailments as we stuffed our faces using our bare hands.
“Well, you look healthy.” He grinned.
“Thanks, but I don’t always feel like it.” I searched his baby face, which appeared younger than 41.
Confusion swirled from that candlelit moment onward. Would I be open to a second date? He proposed we head to Solvang, the Huntington Library or attend the L.A. County Fair — all of which I declined. I’m a die-hard nature lover who prefers serene botanical gardens or pristine beaches.
Later, my girlfriend, who’s a therapist, asked if I’d consider dating him as a “one-off” — an exception to my dating rule.
“Unequivocally, no.”
Under idyllic circumstances, oh yeah! After all, there was a dreamy guy at my old O.C. residence who had warm chestnut eyes and olive skin. He sported crisp suits and had a billion-dollar smile that emerged whenever we’d cross paths during my morning strolls as he sped off to work. A glimmer of him was the highlight of my day. He was someone I’d absolutely break every prudish rule for.
My L.A. neighbor followed up on second-date details. I asked for a day to rearrange my schedule. Within minutes, he jumped to asking, “Are you sure you want to date me?”
In that moment, “Let It Go” from “Frozen” echoed in my head. I crave someone who’s patient, kind and understanding. Frankly, I didn’t want to run into my neighbor while he was on dates with other women or have him see me while I was on dates.
Ultimately I settled for the old “let’s be friends.” I also texted him a dating tip: “Ask a girl her interests.”
He sniped back with several irrational paragraphs and a spicy “here’s a tip for you.” His unfavorable response sealed the romance coffin.
The next morning, I rounded a corner in the lobby of my building prepared to conquer Costco on a holiday weekend. That’s when I saw an unfamiliar person wearing thick reading glasses and a newsboy cap. He was sauntering ahead of a burly woman who appeared more familial than sexual. Then again, I knew little of my presumptuous neighbor’s tastes.
“Hey, Fawn.”
“I didn’t recognize you.”
It was quite awkward. Crossing paths with my neighbor and his female acquaintance solidified everything. It’s never a good idea to date your neighbor.
The author is a writer and creative producer living in Los Angeles. She’s working on a humorous love and dating memoir. She can be found on Instagram: @writteninstone
L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.
Lifestyle
A meal with an animated Mona Lisa? Immersive dining goes high tech — but will L.A. eat it up?
My dinner course is served. It is a Campbell’s-inspired soup can, lightly angled so strands of broccoli are peeking out. I lift the can to uncover a slow-braised short rib and mashed potatoes. An American dish to represent an American artist, here Andy Warhol.
The room is overtaken with projections, scenes of bustling New York traffic paired with bachelor-pad-like guitar riffs. Shown on a wall above a dinner table is a selection of Warhol silkscreens. It’s a Friday night in West Hollywood, and I’m surrounded by a mix of out-of-towners and those celebrating an anniversary. And while this is a special occasion, we’re urged to get a little messy with our food — to use our hands, to paint with a salad, to draw on a cookie.
The main course: A tomato soup can? “7 Paintings” is an immersive event that occasionally hides dishes in artist-inspired presentations.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Play is the primary side dish at “7 Paintings,” a tech-infused dinner theater that aims to be a crash course in fine art. That selection of veggies paired with multiple mini cups of colorful dressings? Guests are encouraged to mix and match the vinaigrettes into a mess of hues, a nod to abstractionist Jackson Pollock. And yellowfin tuna with dashes of avocado and taro chips? That’s an edible tribute to Banksy, of course. What does raw fish have to do with stenciled street art? It’s bold, heavily angled and has a short shelf life? Maybe? Perhaps don’t overthink it.
Even the paper is edible.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
“Have you ever eaten a painting before?” says Nadine Beshir, the Dubai-based creator of “7 Paintings.” “We try to get people out of their comfort zones and eating paper. I want to bring out the child in them.”
“7 Paintings,” held at Sunset House L.A. through the end of August, is the latest example of immersive dining to arrive in this city. These experiences often involve guest participation and are accentuated with advanced multimedia technology and sometimes theatrical elements.
Worldwide, there have been standouts. For instance, Eatrenalin at Germany’s Europa-Park, a dining room-meets-ride where participants are whisked around the space on trackless “floating chairs,” has just received a coveted Michelin star. Ibiza’s Sublimotion has similar haute ambitions, pairing 12 diners together in a room that will come alive with otherworldly projections and performers. At times, diners will win don virtual reality headgear.
But tech-driven immersive dining experiences have never quite taken off in Los Angeles as a trend. Last year, the Gallery, where fantastical cityscapes and projections surrounded downtown L.A. diners, stood just a couple months before the concept was abandoned.
“7 Paintings” pairs food with art and music. It’s “fun dining, not fine dining,” says its founder.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Bartender Luca Famulari shakes a cocktail at the immersive dining event.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
“The economics of a restaurant are not the same as the economics of theater and the challenge of combining the two lies in thinking outside the box with respect to pricing and cost structure, such that the customer perceives high value from both the food and the experience,” says the Gallery co-founder Daren Ulmer.
Entrepreneurs keep aiming for that careful balance. “Le Petit Chef and Friends” is currently running at Tangier at downtown’s Hotel Figueroa, an event in which a fully animated film is projected on our plates and tables. Long-running pop-up event Fork N’ Film leans more dinner and movie, pairing dishes directly inspired by what is happening on screen. Upcoming films include “Ratatouille” and “Lilo and Stitch.”
The field comes with challenges. “The costs are very high,” says Joanna Garner, an immersive designer and former creative director with experiential art firm Meow Wolf. Garner has been experimenting herself with communal, immersive dinner events, and her next, the flirtatious “Please Open Your Mouth,” is set for July 11. (No tech there, as Garner is after a more sensual, adult-focused gathering.) Tickets for her event are $150 and a spot in the “7 Paintings” dining room runs $175, priced on par with a number of city’s most acclaimed restaurants.
There is also the reality that all public dining is in some fashion immersive, usually requiring varying combinations of engagement, communication and presentation. And then, are all these added elements distracting?
An animated Mona Lisa sits on the wall as guests enjoy their meals. Throughout the dinner, the painting provides factoids on various artists.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Throughout “7 Paintings,” for instance, an animated Mona Lisa, situated on the wall next to the main dinner table, will provide brief biographical details of each artist represented.
“Being able to nail the food, and nail the story, those are two very difficult threads to weave,” Garner says. “I do think, ultimately, people come to a dinner table to talk to the people at the table and to have intimate experiences. To have an experience where you’re constantly being taken away from the food, I’m not so sure if that’s what people are looking for.”
Food is framed as a star of “7 Paintings” but tasting it is just one component. At one point, we must uncover a cheese course in a tiny treasure chest, the code for the lock hidden in the projections (don’t stress, it’s not a hard puzzle). Beshir highlights the Pollock-inspired salad course, which is accentuated with a jazz soundtrack, as the thesis of the evening.
1
2
1. A guest uses a silicon brush to apply sauces onto an entree, a nod to abstractionist Jackson Pollock. 2. Projections fill up the dining table during meals.
“This course is really about getting people to free their minds from preconceived ideas,” Beshir says. “Like, you have to eat with a fork and knife, or the salad comes and then the dressing. No, the dressing comes and then the salad, and it’s trying with big brushes to paint the way he did. A lot of people do not understand Abstract Expressionism, and they think it’s people just splashing colors around. But when you understand the link between the rhythm of the music and painting, you live it. We give you time to paint with your salad dressing.”
In L.A., Beshir has partnered with nightlife impresario Kim Kelly, who is plotting a “Sleep No More”-inspired walk-around theatrical show for the Sunset House venue later this year. “7 Paintings,” however, is fully seated, and purposefully a little silly. Beshir and Kelly have been evolving it during its L.A. run, recently adding a stronger painting component by giving guests their own canvas to work on throughout the evening. Each night crowns a winner.
“Everyone comes over to look at their art,” Kelly says. “It just kind of changed the whole thing, to be honest. People are now being creative throughout the entire evening. Instead of just watching and occasionally painting, you’re now painting the whole time.”
As for what, perhaps, soba noodles with edamame and mushrooms have to do with Pablo Picasso, or why Salvador Dali gets an unexpected dessert course of a white chocolate potato souffle, Beshir clarifies the goal of the evening. While the animated Mona Lisa will provide backstories on each painter, this isn’t an educational night. “It’s fun dining, not fine dining,” Beshir says.
And by the end of my night, strangers were socializing, showing off their painted cookie creations, sharing Banksy tidbits and asking for recommendations on various vinaigrette combinations. Ultimately, it’s an evening of discovery, packed with surprises like finding an entire course hidden under a canvas.
Darryl Mayes of Charlotte, N.C., left, and Taylor Smith of North Hollywood, right, uncover their course.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
“We try not to have too much sophistication, like fried ants or something. I’m personally very adventurous in how I eat, but if I want to have this in 100 cities around the world, I cannot be too meticulous.”
And Beshir has big goals.
“I want this be your movie and dinner thing,” Beshir says. “I want people to be waiting for our next show, and to be able to afford to come every couple months.”
And to come home not with leftovers, but perhaps a painting of their own.
Matthew Rhys was nominated for his role in Widow’s Bay.
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The 2026 Emmy nominations are here. We’re unpacking the record-breaking nominations for Hacks, plus a big day for Widow’s Bay, The Pitt, and The Bear. We’ll also talk about the snubs and make some early predictions of who will win.
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A meal with an animated Mona Lisa? Immersive dining goes high tech — but will L.A. eat it up?
