Lifestyle
L.A. Affairs: He turned our romantic getaway into a stress test. Did I pass?
As the Ferris wheel reached its apex and Sam leaned in to kiss me, I felt like Meg Ryan or Julia Roberts. After years of singledom, I was having my romantic comedy moment, and I was in shock. But why not believe it? Hadn’t I earned it?
At 28, I’d never had a serious relationship. I’d just had confusing situationships that always seemed to end with guys who weren’t “ready for something serious” and me crying on the phone to my mom. The moment I met Sam, though, things felt different. For one, we’d met not through an app but through a mutual friend, Kyra. After a quick intro, Sam suggested that we skip texting: “We’re both Kyra-approved. Wanna just get drinks?”
He was nerdy-cute, totally my type. We were both Jewish entertainment professionals, which we joked was laughably unoriginal in L.A. We had similar values, similar interests and, judging by our good-night make-out session, similar kissing styles.
Determined to protect myself from the pitfalls of my past romantic entanglements, I proactively involved my therapist. She encouraged me enthusiastically, assuring me that he’d given good signals so far. No red flags.
By date four, I did something terrifying: I discussed my emotions with a guy I was dating. Voice quavering, I told Sam that I was looking for an actual relationship, one that could go somewhere. I didn’t need a commitment from him right away, but if he didn’t eventually want the same, this wouldn’t work. “That’s exactly how I feel,” he said, squeezing me playfully.
Sam asked me to a Valentine’s dinner. (Another first.) I tried to keep my cool but couldn’t resist a girlish squeal. An actual Valentine!?
Soon after, I left town for two weeks. Even as we texted and he joked that my knowledge of Pokémon made me extremely attractive to him, I worried he’d forget me. He wanted to see me as soon as I got back. It was his birthday, and he invited me to drinks with his friends. He even suggested that we go on a day trip the same weekend. As we left the bar where we’d met his buddies, he whispered, “Everyone thinks you’re great.”
In the app age in which we mostly date strangers, it’s easy to leave no trace of yourself in another person’s life. If you didn’t “soft launch” on Instagram, if your friends never mingled, did it happen? But Sam was actively inviting me into his world. I eagerly anticipated our trip to Newport Beach the next morning.
Nora Ephron couldn’t have written a cuter outing. It was one of those perfect SoCal winter days, bright and sunny and not too hot. We rode rented bikes to Balboa Island, where we ate frozen bananas, referencing “Arrested Development” (“There’s always money in the banana stand!”). We won each other prizes at the arcade and, yes, smooched on the Ferris wheel. It was perfect.
We were exhausted and quiet during the long drive home. I thought about how comfortable silence was a hallmark of many of my closest friendships. Two months in, maybe we could just relax together.
We did relax after he invited me into his apartment, where video games evolved into more physical activities. I felt so close to him, especially when he suggested we watch his favorite movie, “Before Sunrise,” which I’d never seen. The romantic film left me pleasantly sleepy and reassured in his arms. This was a guy who actually wanted love.
Twenty-four hours later, Sam texted me. He was feeling really anxious. I knew he struggled with anxiety, so I told him I was here if he needed to talk. I was a supportive (if unofficial) girlfriend now and I knew he was having big feelings about turning 30.
Our phone call that night was brief and horrifying. He said he really enjoyed spending time with me but didn’t feel the spark. “I figured I should do a stress test with our trip yesterday, but it doesn’t feel right,” he told me.
The whiplash was stupefying. My rom-com fantasies burst into flames. His words, “stress test,” haunted me. A test? Did that mean I’d failed? I worked up my courage and texted him that if our weekend had been so “not right,” he probably shouldn’t have slept with me afterward. His multiparagraph apology didn’t keep me from sobbing for days like Diane Keaton in “Something’s Gotta Give.”
My therapist assured me I was learning. I’d done everything right. “This means he doesn’t know how to have a relationship. Not you.” I paused. I hated to think I was undatable and needed to change myself, but if it wasn’t about me, how could I ever expect anything to be different?
Sam didn’t completely disappear; whenever he liked a post on Instagram Stories, my rom-com detector blared. Was this the part where he realized letting me go was a horrible mistake? Would we reunite like Céline and Jesse in “Before Midnight”? If I confronted him (ideally in a dramatic L.A. thunderstorm), would we fall into each other’s arms?
Eventually, Kyra told me she’d spoken to him. “He knows he screwed up a good thing,” she said, “but he’s in a rough headspace. Maybe it’s better that things ended.”
I’ve finally accepted that it really wasn’t about me, but I’ve also realized something else. My generation, old enough to have loved ’90s rom-coms but young enough to have been lab rats for dating apps, might be romantically stunted. It’s tough — for me, for Sam, for many millennials — to recognize “good” or “bad” in dating. But I’m keeping an open mind. Life isn’t a rom-com, but hopefully if I keep telling the universe (and the men I date) what I want, I’ll keep inching closer to the top of the Ferris wheel.
The author is a television and freelance copywriter. She lives in Hollywood, close enough to Runyon Canyon to feel guilty for not hiking more. Visit her website at writtenbyslh.wordpress.com. She’s on Instagram: @sopharsogood94
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
How to have the best Sunday in L.A., according to Andy Richter
Andy Richter has found his place.
The Chicago area native previously lived in New York — where he first found fame as Conan O’Brien’s sidekick on “Late Night” — before moving to Los Angeles in 2001. Three years ago, he moved to Pasadena. “Now that I live here, I would not live anywhere else,” he says.
There are some practical benefits to the city. “I am such a crabby old man now, but it’s like, there’s parking, you can park when we have to go out,” Richter says. “The notion of going to dinner in Santa Monica just feels like having nails shoved into my feet.”
In Sunday Funday, L.A. people give us a play-by-play of their ideal Sunday around town. Find ideas and inspiration on where to go, what to eat and how to enjoy life on the weekends.
But he mostly appreciates that Pasadena is “a very diverse town and just a beautiful town,” he says.
For Richter, most Sundays revolve around his family. In 2023, the comedian and actor married creative executive Jennifer Herrera and adopted her young daughter, Cornelia. (He also has two children in their 20s, William and Mercy, from his previous marriage.)
Additionally, he’s been giving his body time to recover. Richter spent last fall training and competing on the 34th season of “Dancing With the Stars.” And though he had no prior dancing experience, he won over the show’s fan base with his kindness and dedication, making it to the competition’s ninth week.
He hosts the weekly show “The Three Questions” on O’Brien’s Team Coco podcast network and still appears in films and TV shows. “I’m just taking meetings and auditioning like every other late 50s white comedy guy in L.A., sitting around waiting for the phone to ring.”
This interview has been lightly edited and condensed for length and clarity.
7:30 a.m.: Early rising
It’s hard for me at this advanced age to sleep much past 7:30. I have a 5 1/2-year-old, and hopefully she’ll sleep in a little bit longer so my wife and I can talk and snuggle and look at our phones at opposite ends of the bed, like everybody.
Then the dogs need to be walked. I have two dogs: a 120-pound Great Pyrenees-Border Collie-German Shepherd mix, and then at the other end of the spectrum, a seven-pound poodle mix. We were a blended dog family. When my wife and I met, I had the big dog and she had a little dog. Her first dog actually has passed, but we like that dynamic. You get kind of the best of both worlds.
8 a.m.: Breakfast at a classic diner
Then it would probably be breakfast at Shakers, which is in South Pasadena. It’s one of our favorite places. We’re kind of regulars there, and my daughter loves it. It’s easy with a 5-year-old, you’ve got to do what they want. They’re terrorists that way, especially when it comes to cuisine.
I’ve lived in Pasadena for about three years now, but I have been going to Shakers for a long time because I have a database of all the best diners in the Los Angeles metropolitan area committed to memory. There’s just something about the continuity of them that makes me feel like the world isn’t on fire. And because of L.A.’s moderate climate, the ones here stay the way they are; whereas if you get 18 feet of winter snow, you tend to wear down the diner floor, seats, everything.
So there’s a lot of really great old places that stay the same. And then there are tragic losses. There’s been some noise that Shakers is going to turn into some kind of condo development. I think that people would probably riot. They would be elderly people rioting, but they would still riot.
11 a.m.: Sandy paws
My in-laws live down in Long Beach, so after breakfast we might take the dogs down to Long Beach. There’s this dog beach there, Rosie’s Beach. I have never seen a fight there between dogs. They’re all just so happy to be out and off-leash, with an ocean and sand right there. You get a contact high from the canine joy.
1 p.m.: Lunch in Belmont Shore
That would take us to lunchtime and we’ll go somewhere down there. There’s this place, L’Antica Pizzeria Da Michele, in Belmont Shore. It’s fantastic for some pizza with grandma and grandpa. It’s originally from Naples. There’s also one in Hollywood where Cafe Des Artistes used to be on that weird little side street.
4 p.m.: Sunset at the gardens
We’d take grandma and grandpa home, drop the dogs off. We’d go to the Huntington and stay a couple of hours until sunset. The Japanese garden is pretty mind-blowing. You feel like you’re on the set of “Shogun.”
The main thing that I love about it is the changing of ecospheres as you walk through it. Living in the area, I drive by it a thousand times and then I remember, “Oh yeah, there’s a rainforest in here. There’s thick stands of bamboo forest that look like Vietnam.” It’s beautiful. With all three of my kids, I have spent a lot of time there.
6:30 p.m.: Mall of America
After sundown, we will go to what seems to be the only thriving mall in America — [the Shops at] Santa Anita. We are suckers for Din Tai Fung. My 24-year-old son, who’s kind of a food snob, is like, “There’s a hundred places that are better and cheaper within five minutes of there in the San Gabriel Valley.” And we’re like, “Yeah, but this is at the mall.” It’s really easy. Also, my wife is a vegetarian, and a lot of the more authentic places, there’s pork in the air. It’s really hard to find vegetarian stuff.
We have a whole system with Din Tai Fung now, which is logging in on the wait list while we’re still on the highway, or ordering takeout. There’s plenty of places in the mall with tables, you can just sit down and have your own little feast there.
There’s also a Dave & Buster’s. If you want sensory overload, you can go in there and get a big, big booze drink while you’re playing Skee-Ball with your kid.
9 p.m.: Head to bed ASAP
I am very lucky in that I’m a very good sleeper and the few times in my life when I do experience insomnia, it’s infuriating to me because I am spoiled, basically. When you’ve got a 5 1/2-year-old, there’s no real wind down. It’s just negotiations to get her into bed and to sleep as quickly as possible, so we can all pass out.
Lifestyle
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Lifestyle
Bill Cosby Rape Accuser Donna Motsinger Says He Won’t Testify At Trial
Bill Cosby
Rape Accuser Says Cosby Won’t Take Stand At Trial
Published
Bill Cosby‘s rape accuser Donna Motsinger says the TV star can’t be bothered to show up to court for a trial in a lawsuit she filed against him.
According to new legal docs, obtained by TMZ. Motsinger says Bill will not testify in court … she claims it’s “because he does not care to appear.”
Motsinger says Bill won’t show his face at the trial either … and the only time the jury will hear from him will be a previously taped deposition.
As we previously reported, Motsinger claims Bill drugged and raped her in 1972. In the case, Bill admitted during a deposition that he obtained a recreational prescription for Quaaludes that he secured from a gynecologist at a poker game.
TMZ.com
Bill also said he planned to use the pills to give to women in the hopes of having sex with them.
Motsinger alleged Bill gave her a pill that she thought was aspirin. She claimed she felt off after taking it and said she woke up the next day in her bed with only her underwear on.
Here, it sounds like Motsinger wants to play the deposition for the jury.
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