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L.A. Affairs: I met my dream man. The only problem? He wasn’t my husband

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L.A. Affairs: I met my dream man. The only problem? He wasn’t my husband

I had been married for six weeks the night I met Anthony. Tall, olive-skinned with electric green eyes, he was so handsome my cheeks were flushed when I walked through the front door of his shared Venice Beach home.

I was in L.A. from Seattle visiting my sister for the weekend. Crossing paths with her boyfriend’s best friend and housemate wasn’t on the agenda. Due to flight delays, Anthony had just returned from a trip to the East Coast. His suitcase was still at the foot of the stairs.

“Well, where are we all going for dinner?” he asked.

The four of us drove in his powder-blue vintage Land Cruiser to Cafe Brasil on Venice Boulevard. Outside on the tiny patio, Anthony scooted in next to me with the bottles of Two-Buck Chuck we’d brought with us.

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I pushed away nagging thoughts of my husband. College sweethearts, we had wed just shy of my 23rd birthday.

Eating fried plantains as sweet and sticky as the August air, Anthony and I bonded over a shared passion for music, books and foreign movies.

“Have you seen ‘In the Mood for Love’?” he asked. I shook my head, smiling, my mind swirling from the cheap red wine. “You’re going to love it,” he said. His hand grazed my thigh with a familiar intimacy that belied strangers.

The next day I flew back to my husband, brushing off the night as harmless flirting. Yet I couldn’t stop thinking about the gorgeous 29-year-old video editor. Every time I remembered Anthony’s fingers against my leg, an electric surge swept my body.

A week later, he called me.

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We talked for hours and kept talking in the weeks to come, an intense emotional connection exploding between us. Neither of us had felt this way before. Did we dare to explore it?

Seven months prior, my wedding planning was underway. I had told my fiancé that I wanted to extend our engagement. Everything was moving too fast for me. He balked at the idea. Losing him scared me just as much as marrying him did. When I confided my hesitations to my Mexican mother, she assured me that my cold feet would thaw. The edge in her lilting voice had a warning: Don’t screw this up.

I didn’t care about screwing up. I had to see Anthony again. Inventing an excuse, I returned to L.A. for Labor Day weekend.

Our illicit affair unfurled over those last days of summer.

During the afternoon, we sprawled out on a grassy knoll by the beach. Blankets and books spread around us as we listened to a playlist he’d made on a shared iPod. “Declaration,” the towering metal sculpture flanked by palm trees, rose high into the hot air above our entwined bodies.

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In the evening, we strolled the Venice canals, holding hands like any other young couple, only with my wedding ring jangling against the change in my coin purse. Anthony and I made out over margaritas at La Cabaña, stumbling the few blocks from the restaurant to his house — and his bed.

After the weekend ended, I physically returned to my husband. But every other part of me remained on the glittering shores of California with Anthony.

“We rushed into marriage,” I told my husband a month later. “I need time to think.” He drove me to the airport, believing I was going to stay with my sister. He was unaware that another man was waiting for me at arrivals.

For a short while, Anthony and I existed in the fantasy of our little cocoon. We frequented Vidiots, where we rented Wong Kar-wai’s stunning and tragic story of unrequited love. Anthony was right: I was captivated by the film. We rode bikes on the beach path, snaking along the coastline with the autumn air crisp against our faces. We watched the sun set from Pacific Coast Highway, toes touching as our feet dangled from the back of his SUV.

Yet, even in these moments of happiness, as I pretended that I was free, I felt more lost than ever.

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By winter, I was spiraling. I confessed my infidelity to my husband. His anguish shattered the cold barrier I had put up, leaving me bereft over my betrayal. “Your heart hurts?” he cried. “Well, mine is broken.”

My affair with Anthony imploded.

I returned to my husband. But there was nothing to salvage. I still wasn’t over Anthony. My husband and I signed divorce papers nine months after we had said, “I do.”

That summer Anthony called to say he’d been diagnosed with colon cancer.

The final time I spoke with him was two months later in October. It was a couple of weeks before the surgery to remove his tumor. Still reeling from the consequences of our relationship, I lashed out when he told me he was seeing someone and it was getting serious.

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In the ignorance of my youth, it had never occurred to me that he might not survive. In July, at 31, he succumbed to cancer.

On the one-year anniversary of his death, I stood in the hallway of the Venice Beach bungalow Anthony had moved into with his new wife. He married the woman he had told me about on the phone. He must have told her about me too. A kind and gracious woman, she had invited me to his life celebration. Her invitation was a gift. She couldn’t have known that I had spent the last year drowning in grief, guilt and regret.

Before me hung a framed photo of Anthony and his wife on their wedding day. A salmon-colored button-down shirt hung from his skeletal frame. There was hollowed space under his shimmering eyes. He looked as beautiful as ever.

At midnight, his friends and loved ones assembled on bicycles, riding in his honor through the dark streets of Venice. Our bike gang was so large that people stumbling out of bars on Abbot Kinney Boulevard stopped to stare.

When we arrived at Anthony’s favorite spot on the beach, we formed a circle, hands linked, our voices howling in the salty sky. There, in the moonlit shadow of that mighty steel sculpture, I declared my love and loss and said goodbye.

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The author is a freelance writer living in Highland Park. She’s on Instagram: @kimberlybridson

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.

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Lifestyle

Smoke a joint and get deep with flowers at this guided floral design workshop in DTLA

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Smoke a joint and get deep with flowers at this guided floral design workshop in DTLA

Abriana Vicioso is the host of the Flower Hour, which takes place monthly.

(Jennifer McCord / For The Times)

Each flower carries a personal history. For Abriana Vicioso, the calla lily was her parents’ wedding flower — a symbol of her mother’s beauty. “She had this big, beautiful white calla lily in her hair,” Vicioso says. “I love my parents. They’re the reason I’m here. I’ll never forget where I came from.”

The Flower Hour begins with Vicioso announcing, with a warm smile: “Today is about touching grass.” The florist-by-trade gestures behind her to hundreds of flowers contained in buckets — blue thistles, ivory anemones and calla lilies painted silver — all twisted and unfurling into the air. “Tonight is going to be so sweet and intimate,” Vicioso says, eyeing the beautiful chaos at her feet. A grin buds across her face.

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Moments before the workshop, participants sit at candlelit tables exchanging horoscopes and comparing their favorite flowers. A mention of the illustrious bird-of-paradise flower elicits coos and awe from the women. Izamar Vazquez, who is from Jalisco, Mexico, reveals her fondness for roses, which make her feel connected to her Mexican roots.

Vicioso hosts her flower-themed wellness workshop near the iconic Original Los Angeles Flower Market in downtown L.A. In January, the first Flower Hour event sold out, prompting her to make it a monthly series. Vicioso describes the event as a “three-part journey” where participants are invited to drink herbal tea, smoke rose-petal-rolled cannabis joints and create a floral arrangement. “The guide is to connect with the medicine of flowers,” Vicioso says.

Rose petal joints, tea and flower arranging are all part of The Flower Hour event's offerings.
Herbal tea is part of the event's offerings.
Floral arranging is the main activity.

Rose petal joints, tea and flower arranging are all part of The Flower Hour event’s offerings.

The event is hosted at the Art Club, a membership-based co-working space. “The Flower Hour is really beautiful. Everyone gets to explore their creativity while meeting new people,” says Lindsay Williams, the co-owner of the Art Club.

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The idea for Flower Hour came to Vicioso during a conversation with her mother. “We joke all the time that flowers were destined to make their way into my life,” she says. She works as a florist and models on the side, even appearing in the pages of Vogue. Vicioso grew up in a Caribbean household, where flowers and offerings were part of daily life. “In my culture and religion, a lot of my family practices — an Afro-Caribbean religion — we build altars.”

Like many cultures, flowers carry sentimental value in her religion. “I’m Caribbean, so a lot of my family practices a Yoruba religion, which comes from Africa. In the Caribbean, it’s well known as Santería.”

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After a difficult year and a breakup, Vicioso wanted to marry her love of flowers with community building. Because Vicioso uses cannabis medicinally, the workshop naturally includes a smoking component. “My family has smoked cannabis for a lot of reasons for a long time. It’s a really healing plant,” she explains.

In the workshop, even the cannabis gets the floral treatment. Vicioso presents her rose-petal-wrapped joints on a silver platter at each table. She rolled each by hand. “If you’ve never smoked a rose-petal-rolled joint, the difference with this is it’s going to have roses that have a slight tobacco effect,” she announces.

During the workshop, Vicioso stresses the importance of buying cannabis from local vendors. The cannabis provided was purchased from a Northern Californian vendor. The wellness workshop aims to reclaim the healing ritual of smoking cannabis. “This is a plant that has been commercialized,” Vicioso says. “There’s a lot of Black and Brown people who are in jail for this plant.”

The resulting workshop is what Vicioso describes as “an immersive wellness experience that is the intersection of wellness, creativity, community and an appreciation of flowers.” The workshop serves as a reminder to enjoy Earth’s innate beauty in the form of flowers — including cannabis. “It’s this gift that the universe gave us for free and that I have this deep connection with,” Vicioso says.

Conversation cards to generate discussion among participants (left). The workshop serves as a "third space" for Angelenos to engage in tactile creativity and community building outside of traditional nightlife settings.
LOS ANGELES, CA -- FEBRUARY 22, 2026: Participants smoke marijuana during The Flower Hour, a floral design workshop + floral smoke sesh at The ArtClub in downtown. Photographed on Sunday, February 22, 2026. (Jennifer McCord / For The Times)
LOS ANGELES, CA -- FEBRUARY 22, 2026: The Flower Hour is a floral design workshop + floral smoke sesh at The ArtClub in downtown. Photographed on Sunday, February 22, 2026. (Jennifer McCord / For The Times)

Conversation cards to generate discussion among participants (top, letf). The workshop serves as a “third space” for Angelenos to engage in tactile creativity and community building outside of traditional nightlife settings.

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After enjoying lavender chamomile tea and smoking a joint, Vicioso introduces the flowers to the group before inviting them to pick their own. She emphasizes each flower’s personality traits, describing green dianthus as a “Dr. Seuss” plant. Then, there are calla lilies with their “main character moment.” It gets personal. “Start thinking of a flower in your life that you can discover,” she says. “If you’re feeling like you need inspiration, you can always remember that these flowers have stories.”

Vicioso infuses wisdom into her instruction on floral arrangements: There are no mistakes. Let the flowers tell you where they want to go, she urges. Intuition will be your guide — the wilder, the better.

“Hecho in Mexico” reads a sticker on a bunch of green stems. “Like me,” says Vazquez with a laugh. “They’re all doing their own thing. Like a family,” she says later, arranging stems.

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The Flower Hour participants and Vicioso, center, chat as they build their own floral arrangements.

The Flower Hour participants and Vicioso, center, chat as they build their own floral arrangements at the sold-out event.

Two participants — Vazquez and Rebeca Alvarado — are friends who run a floral design company together called Izza Rose. Like Vicioso, the friends have a connection to flowers through their Latin American culture. They met Vicioso in the floral industry and were overjoyed to discover her workshop.

“This is a great way to connect with other people,” says Vazquez.

Alvarado agrees, adding: “You’re getting to know people outside of going to bars. You can connect in different ways when there’s an activity.”

Vazquez uses flowers to stay connected to her Mexican heritage, adding that she prefers to support Mexican vendors. In recent months, the downtown L.A. flower market has struggled to recover from ongoing ICE raids. “Some are scared to come back,” says Vazquez.

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Hand-rolled cannabis joints wrapped in rose petals are presented on a silver platter at The ArtClub (top, right). The Flower Hour aims to reclaim the healing rituals of cannabis and flowers.
LOS ANGELES, CA -- FEBRUARY 22, 2026: The Flower Hour is a floral design workshop + floral smoke sesh at The ArtClub in downtown. Photographed on Sunday, February 22, 2026. (Jennifer McCord / For The Times)
LOS ANGELES, CA -- FEBRUARY 22, 2026: The Flower Hour is a floral design workshop + floral smoke sesh at The ArtClub in downtown. Photographed on Sunday, February 22, 2026. (Jennifer McCord / For The Times)

Hand-rolled cannabis joints wrapped in rose petals are presented on a silver platter at The ArtClub (top, right). The Flower Hour aims to reclaim the healing rituals of cannabis and flowers.

Another participant, Barbara Rios, was attracted to the workshop for stress relief. “You can hang out with your friends, but it’s nice to do things with your hands,” she says. “I work a stressful job, and it’s nice to have that third space that we’re all craving.”

On this February night, the participants were predominantly women, save for one man. In the future, Vicioso hopes that more men learn to engage with flowers. “There’s a statistic about men receiving flowers for the first time at their funerals, and I think we have changed that,” she says.

To conclude the workshop, Vicioso encourages participants to build lasting friendships and incorporate flower arranging into their daily practice — even if it’s just with a small, inexpensive bouquet.

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“Get some flowers together, go to the park, hang out with each other and hang out with me,” she says. Participants leave with flower arrangements in hand. In the darkness of the night air, it briefly looks as though the women carry silver calla lilies that are blooming from their palms.

A finished floral arrangement.

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‘Wait Wait’ for February 28. 2026: Live in Bloomington with Lilly King!

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‘Wait Wait’ for February 28. 2026: Live in Bloomington with Lilly King!

An underwater view shows US’ Lilly King competing in a heat of the women’s 200m breaststroke swimming event during the Paris 2024 Olympic Games at the Paris La Defense Arena in Nanterre, west of Paris, on July 31, 2024. (Photo by François-Xavier MARIT / AFP) (Photo by FRANCOIS-XAVIER MARIT/AFP via Getty Images)

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François-Xavier Marit/Getty Images

This week’s show was recorded in Bloomington, Indiana with host Peter Sagal, judge and scorekeeper Bill Kurtis, Not My Job guest Lilly King and panelists Alonzo Bodden, Josh Gondelman, and Faith Salie. Click the audio link above to hear the whole show.

Who’s Bill This Time

State of the Union is Hot; The Tribal Council Convenes Again; A Glow Up In the Doll Aisle

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Panel Questions

The Toot Tracker

Bluff The Listener

Our panelists tell three stories about a travel hack in the news, only one of which is true.

Not My Job: Olympic Swimmer Lilly King answers our questions about Lil’ Kings

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Olympic Swimmer Lilly King plays our game called, “Lilly King meet these Lil’ Kings” Three questions about short kings.

Panel Questions

Cleaning Out The Cabinet; Bedtime Stacking

Limericks

Bill Kurtis reads three news-related limericks: Getting Cozy With Cross Country Skiing; Pickleball’s New Competition; Bees Get Freaky

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Lightning Fill In The Blank

All the news we couldn’t fit anywhere else

Predictions

Our panelists predict, after American Girls, what’ll be the next toy to get an update.

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Zendaya and Tom Holland Are Married, Her Longtime Stylist Claims

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Zendaya and Tom Holland Are Married, Her Longtime Stylist Claims

Law Roach
Zendaya and Tom’s Wedding Already Happened …
Y’all Missed It!!!

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