Lifestyle
After my marriage fell apart, darkness got to me. Then I was catfished
“You don’t revere me anymore.” The words rolled off my tongue at my husband, who had been acting strangely for a few days.
“Revere?” he said with such distaste that it stunned me. Then I did what any wife married for 23 years might do: I read his emails. I wanted the truth.
“All she does is spend money!” screamed up at me from the computer screen.
I wasn’t in love with my husband anymore. I did still love him and had planned to sacrifice my happiness to make sure he was taken care of until the end.
Then he betrayed me and let me off the hook.
He didn’t cheat. He talked behind my back in ways that I felt dishonored me. Imagine reading your husband’s emails (I’m not perfect) and finding long conversations between him and his daughter about you. This from the man you’ve been with for 25 years!
I suppose I knew this day would come. Money was always the bane of our relationship. My husband would not have initiated divorce because it would have cost him too much. Did I spend? Yes, I suppose, but only to improve our home in Culver City, give us a luscious yard and a new paved driveway. And that’s not to mention all the trips we took to fascinating places.
I had done a lot for him. Surprised him with a bar mitzvah in Jerusalem, brought his “mathematical art” to life through art shows and social media and planned our busy social schedule.
I moved to the Pico-Robertson area to be close to my niece and her three kids. Darkness consumed me, but my face was masked with perpetual smiles.
How do you begin again at 71? Friends tried to guide me to dating sites, but I wasn’t ready. I took refuge in my apartment with my dog, Murray, who kept me alive through the COVID-19 pandemic, depression and divorce. My life consisted of walking the dog, writing children’s books and binge-watching Netflix nightly.
Once the divorce was over, loneliness won out. I moved to a new city an hour outside of L.A. Male attention came from a 31-year-old gardener who brought me flowers every Tuesday. “I’m old enough to be your grandmother,” I said. I was feeling the need for male energy, but not with this young man.
So I turned to online dating.
I scrolled down the list of all my likes on a dating site. One man caught my eye. He was Jewish, intelligent and had a dog named Erik. I sent him a like back. “Can you give me your number so we can text?” he asked.
What could it hurt? The next two weeks were a whirlwind. We were in a textationship. I felt so high I stopped eating. I lost six pounds in three days.
Jay enchanted me with all the romantic things that he was going to do for me. He sent me love songs. I wasn’t just beautiful; I was extremely beautiful and I shouldn’t worry about being overweight, he told me.
He wanted a soulmate and convinced me that we were meant to be. Blown away by our connection, we both realized bashert (or fate) had won out.
I was the happiest I had been in many years. Finally something was going to come easy for me. But I wasn’t naive. Red flags started to pop up. Jay and I had barely spoken on the phone when he told me that he had to be in Washington, D.C. for three weeks to work on a military base. He wouldn’t be able to video chat, and if he did, he could get fired.
On a Friday morning, two weeks into our relationship, I texted, “I’m sorry, but I can’t invest anymore into this relationship until I see you.”
He asked if I could Skype. (Oh, remember Skype?) Red flag. Why not FaceTime? I waited all day Saturday for him to call. Nothing.
On Sunday morning, I blocked him on my phone. Murray and I headed to the ocean. On Monday, unable to text me, he emailed. Hope reared its head again. “How can you give up all we shared together?” he asked.
“I so want you to be true, Jay, but I still need to see your face,” I replied.
At 7 a.m. Monday, he called. In bed with no makeup on, we met on Google Meet. I loved the face on his profile, but I didn’t think this face was the same one I saw on-screen. I asked him why he said he was a New York native on his profile when I knew he grew up in Sweden. He shrugged it off as a small embellishment.
I fake smiled and asked him to say something to me in Swedish. He mumbled something that meant “bright day.” My intuition was on fire.
The guy had to be a liar.
Was he grooming me to ask for money? Was he trying to feel important? Did he want to inflict harm?
Later that day, he sent me an email. “I told you I couldn’t talk on video and that I’d be home soon enough, and we could be together. Now, they’ve found out that I made a video call and I could get fired. I’m not sure this was worth it. I’m angry you didn’t believe me.” (He allegedly did secret work as an engineer for the Department of Defense.)
I texted back: “Goodbye, Jay.”
“Wow, goodbye,” he answered.
I could’ve gone back into depression, but I was already out. I felt empowered.
Catfished or not, I have to thank Jay — or whatever his name really is. He put the pep back in my step even if he didn’t mean a word of it. Through the ping-pong of our conversations, my darkness ceased to be. I realized that I was capable of feeling again. Whatever it was that we meant to each other, Mr. Catfish managed to give me the very thing I was missing: Hope.
The author is an actor, writer and producer living in Southern California with her dog Murray.
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
It was called the Kennedy Center, but 3 different presidents shaped it
President John F. Kennedy, left, looks at a model of what was later named the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC., in 1963.
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National Archives/Getty Images
On Thursday, the Kennedy Center’s name was changed to The Donald J. Trump and the John F. Kennedy Memorial Center for the Performing Arts.

By Friday morning, workers were already changing signs on the building itself, although some lawmakers said Thursday that the name can’t be changed legally without Congressional approval.
Though the arts venue is now closely associated with President Kennedy, it was three American presidents, including Kennedy, who envisioned a national cultural center – and what it would mean to the United States.
New signage, The Donald J. Trump and The John F. Kennedy Memorial Center for the Performing Arts, is unveiled on Friday in Washington, D.C.
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Jacquelyn Martin/AP
The Eisenhower Administration
In 1955, President Dwight D. Eisenhower first pursued building what he called an “artistic mecca” in Washington, D.C., and created a commission to create what was then known as the National Cultural Center.
Three years later, Congress passed an act to build the new venue with the stated purpose of presenting classical and contemporary music, opera, drama, dance, and poetry from the United States and across the world. Congress also mandated the center to offer public programs, including educational offerings and programs specifically for children and older adults.
The Kennedy Administration
A November 1962 fundraiser for the center during the Kennedy administration featured stars including conductor Leonard Bernstein, comedian Danny Kaye, poet Robert Frost, singers Marian Anderson and Harry Belafonte, ballerina Maria Tallchief, pianist Van Cliburn – and a 7-year-old cellist named Yo-Yo Ma and his sister, 11-year-old pianist Yeou-Cheng Ma.

In his introduction to their performance, Bernstein specifically celebrated the siblings as new immigrants to the United States, whom he hailed as the latest in a long stream of “foreign artists and scientists and thinkers who have come not only to visit us, but often to join us as Americans, to become citizens of what to some has historically been the land of opportunity and to others, the land of freedom.”
At that event, Kennedy said this:
“As a great democratic society, we have a special responsibility to the arts — for art is the great democrat, calling forth creative genius from every sector of society, disregarding race or religion or wealth or color. The mere accumulation of wealth and power is available to the dictator and the democrat alike; what freedom alone can bring is the liberation of the human mind and spirit which finds its greatest flowering in the free society.”
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Kennedy and his wife Jacqueline were known for championing the arts at the White House. The president understood the free expression of creativity as an essential soft power, especially during the Cold War, as part of a larger race to excellence that encompassed science, technology, and education – particularly in opposition to what was then the Soviet Union.
The arts mecca envisioned by Eisenhower opened in 1971 and was named as a “living memorial” to Kennedy by Congress after his assassination.
The Johnson Administration
Philip Kennicott, the Pulitzer Prize-winning art and architecture critic for The Washington Post, said the ideas behind the Kennedy Center found their fullest expression under Kennedy’s successor, President Lyndon B. Johnson.

“Johnson in the Great Society basically compares the arts to other fundamental needs,” Kennicott said. “He says something like, ‘It shouldn’t be the case that Americans live so far from the hospital. They can’t get the health care they need. And it should be the same way for the arts.’ Kennedy creates the intellectual fervor and idea of the arts as essential to American culture. Johnson then makes it much more about a kind of popular access and participation at all levels.”
Ever since, Kennicott said, the space has existed in a certain tension between being a palace of the arts and a publicly accessible, popular venue. It is a grand structure on the banks of the Potomac River, located at a distance from the city’s center, and decked out in red and gold inside.
At the same time, Kennicott observed: “It’s also open. You can go there without a ticket. You can wander in and hear a free concert. And they have always worked very hard at the Kennedy Center to be sure that there’s a reason for people to think of it as belonging to them collectively, even if they’re not an operagoer or a symphony ticket subscriber.”
The Kennedy Center on the Potomac River in Washington, D.C.
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Hulton Archive/Getty Images
Kennicott estimated it will only take a few years for the controversies around a new name to fade away, if the Trump Kennedy moniker remains.
He likens it to the controversy that once surrounded another public space in Washington, D.C.: the renaming of Washington National Airport to Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport in 1998.

“A lot of people said, ‘I will never call it the Reagan National Airport.’ And there are still people who will only call it National Airport. But pretty much now, decades later, it is Reagan Airport,” Kennicott said.
“People don’t remember the argument. They don’t remember the controversy. They don’t remember the things they didn’t like about Reagan, necessarily. . . . All it takes is about a half a generation for a name to become part of our unthinking, unconscious vocabulary of place.
“And then,” he said, “the work is done.”
This story was edited for broadcast and digital by Jennifer Vanasco. The audio was mixed by Marc Rivers.
Lifestyle
Fashion’s Climate Reckoning Is Just Getting Started
Lifestyle
The 2025 Vibe Scooch
In the 1998 World War II film “Saving Private Ryan,” Tom Hanks played Captain John H. Miller, a citizen-soldier willing to die for his country. In real life, Mr. Hanks spent years championing veterans and raising money for their families. So it was no surprise when West Point announced it would honor him with the Sylvanus Thayer Award, which goes each year to someone embodying the school’s credo, “Duty, Honor, Country.”
Months after the announcement, the award ceremony was canceled. Mr. Hanks, a Democrat who had backed Kamala Harris, has remained silent on the matter. On Truth Social, President Trump did not hold back: “We don’t need destructive, WOKE recipients getting our cherished American awards!!!”
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