Lifestyle
L.A. Affairs: My roommate had sun-kissed skin and a movie-star smile. Was he my Romeo?
I grew up in Los Angeles a hopeless romantic with my head permanently tilted toward the sky and a copy of “Romeo and Juliet” worn from rereading. I devoured that book far too young and believed in it far too earnestly. Soulmates weren’t just an idea — they were a promise. I believed in love that defied reason and timing, in glances across rooms that changed the course of your life, in poetry etched into every heartbeat.
But by 21, the fairy tale had started to crack. A traumatic experience with a man I had trusted shattered my sense of safety and desire. For three years, I withdrew from dating entirely. I told people I was “focusing on myself,” which was true in part, but it was also a shield. I was afraid — afraid of being seen, of being wanted, of wanting back. I felt like a locked door that I didn’t even remember how to open.
Still, no matter how deeply I buried it, I couldn’t stop craving the very thing I feared most: love. The real kind. The sweeping, soul-consuming kind I had always dreamed of. The kind that felt like coming home.
Then I moved into an actors’ house in Los Feliz — a beautiful kind of chaos only L.A. could produce. Four roommates, each chasing a different dream, all of us messy, creative and trying to make something of ourselves. One of them had just arrived from Australia. I still remember the first time I saw him — tall, sun-kissed skin, dark golden curls, movie-star smile and a voice that made everything sound like a love song. Even “pass the almond milk” felt flirtatious coming from him.
He had that magnetic energy — the kind that makes you turn your head in a crowded room without even knowing why. He was already well-known back home, but here he was starting from scratch. That vulnerability, mixed with his charm, made him impossible not to notice. I didn’t just notice. I was drawn in like a tide to the moon.
We started spending time together, at first just casually, but then constantly. Hikes through Griffith Park, conversations that started over coffee and lasted until 2 a.m. in the kitchen. Walks through Silver Lake where our hands brushed just slightly too long. He listened intently. He remembered little details I’d said in passing. He looked at me like I was a story he wanted to read slowly.
And somewhere in the middle of all of that, I started to feel it — those soft, fluttering butterflies that made it hard to breathe around him. The kind of feeling I thought I’d lost forever. I’d catch myself staring at him, not even trying to hide it. My heart would do this little skip when he laughed at my jokes or looked at me too long. I started to wonder: Is this it? Could he be the one?
I couldn’t even see other guys anymore. He had warped my radar. Every song reminded me of him. My mind raced ahead, imagining a future that didn’t even exist yet — a montage of quiet mornings, long walks, maybe even moving back to Australia with him. It was completely unhinged and yet felt undeniably real.
One night, we were sitting on the couch after everyone else had gone to bed. A movie played softly in the background, something neither of us were really watching. There was a long silence — not awkward, just full — and then he turned to me, his eyes searching mine.
“I really like you,” he said, barely above a whisper.
I felt my heart seize up. I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe.
He leaned in slowly, giving me time to meet him halfway.
But I couldn’t. I froze.
Just before our lips touched, I gently pulled back and looked away.
“Sorry,” I said, barely audible.
He paused for a second, then gave me the softest smile. “It’s OK,” he said without missing a beat. “No pressure, all right? Let’s just pretend that didn’t happen.”
And just like that, we moved on. No awkwardness. No pressure. He handled it with such grace that, if anything, I liked him more. It felt like confirmation that he really saw me — not just as someone to conquer, but someone worth being patient with.
But a few days later, the shine started to fade.
We were sitting on the back steps one afternoon when he mentioned, almost in passing, “There’s something I should probably tell you. I have a girlfriend.”
I blinked. “Wait … what?”
“She lives in Germany,” he said, voice quiet. “It’s been four years. We’ve been long-distance for a while. It’s kind of on the rocks, but … we’re still technically together.”
Technically.
I felt the bottom drop out of my chest. My mind scrambled to connect dots, rearranging every sweet moment under this new light.
I tried to process it, but I wasn’t angry — not yet. Just stunned. Numb. I nodded, said something like, “Thanks for telling me,” and excused myself to my room.
But then the nights started to change.
At first, I thought I was imagining it. But after that conversation, the energy in the house shifted. Almost every night, I’d hear new voices. Laughter. Sometimes flirtatious whispers in the hallway. One night, I passed a girl in the kitchen making toast at 1 a.m. in his hoodie. She smiled politely. I didn’t ask questions.
It became a pattern. A different girl, almost every night. He’d meet them on Raya or Tinder. Beautiful, charismatic women, most of them aspiring actors or models. I never heard him brag about it. He wasn’t showy. But it was unmistakable — he was spiraling into something.
And I couldn’t stop watching.
Part of me was devastated, even though I had no claim to him. I’d been imagining a future. I had started to believe he was my soulmate. But this wasn’t what soulmates did. Soulmates didn’t treat people like rotating doors.
Eventually, during one of our rare quiet nights alone, I brought it up.
“Hey,” I said gently. “Are you OK?”
He paused, staring at his hands. Then, with surprising openness, he admitted, “I think I have a problem.”
He explained that sex was like a compulsion for him. That he’d been using it to cope with anxiety, loneliness, the chaos of this city. That it made him feel better — for a moment. But never for long. He looked up at me, eyes raw.
“I’m trying to get a handle on it,” he said. “But it’s hard.”
I sat beside him, silent. Not judging. Just listening.
He wasn’t cruel. Just deeply lost. One of the many people in this city chasing something they couldn’t quite name. He wanted to be loved, just like me. He just didn’t know how to be safe with it.
I was relieved we hadn’t crossed that line. That I’d kept one piece of myself intact. But it also marked something final. The moment I stopped seriously considering dating a man in Los Angeles.
I still love this city. I still take the same walks. Still linger in cafes, hoping for something soft and sincere to cut through the noise. But I don’t fall for fantasies anymore, especially not the kind wrapped in accents and charisma.
The charming, sex-addicted Australian man? He’s still one of my closest friends. We never kissed. We never even talked about it much.
Experiencing romance is without a doubt one of the finer things in life, but it’s not always the most fulfilling. Soulmates show up in many forms, and sometimes the realest love one will experience is with a dog or a family member or a platonic friend and that’s OK. All love is great love.
The author is an actor and writer living in Los Angeles. She grew up in the city, still believes in love (sometimes) and takes too many long walks through Silver Lake and Los Feliz.
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.
Mara is a single mother of two in Minnesota. She and her family have depended on SNAP benefits to make ends meet.
Caroline Yang for NPR
hide caption
toggle caption
Caroline Yang for NPR
Although Mara is unemployed, she is busier than ever.
When she is not taking care of her two children, Mara is at her desk applying for jobs. She is surveying her belongings to see what she can pawn off to buy toiletries. Or she is sifting through bills, calculating which ones can wait and which need to be paid right away.
Soon, Mara, a single mom in Minnesota, may have another task on her busy schedule: figuring out how to afford food for her and her family.
That’s because of new work requirements for people receiving aid from the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, also known as SNAP or food stamps.
“It would be so beyond hard” to lose SNAP benefits, Mara said. “Without SNAP, there’s no funds for food.” Mara asked for her last name to be withheld given the stigma tied to receiving government assistance. She is also worried that speaking publicly will affect her chances of getting a job.
Previously, SNAP recipients with children under 18 were exempt from work requirements mandating that recipients work, volunteer or participate in job training at least 80 hours a month. But now, under President Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill Act, that exemption only applies to those with children under 14 — which is how old Mara’s youngest child turned in December.
“It would be so beyond hard” to lose SNAP benefits, Mara said.
Caroline Yang for NPR
hide caption
toggle caption
Caroline Yang for NPR
The Trump administration has argued that the mission of the nation’s largest anti-hunger program has failed.
“SNAP was intended to be temporary help for those who encounter tough times. Now, it’s become so bloated that it is leaving fewer resources for those who truly need help,” the White House said in a statement in June.
But policy experts say the SNAP changes do not fully take into account the unique challenges faced by single parents like Mara or the sluggish job market in many parts of the country. They argue that losing food assistance will only create more barriers for recipients struggling to find work.
The timeline for implementing the new SNAP policy varies based on state and county. In Mara’s home state of Minnesota, recipients who don’t qualify for an exemption or meet work requirements will be at risk of losing assistance as early as April 1. Others may have more months depending on when they next need to certify they are eligible for benefits.
Over 100 job applications
Mara imagined she would have a job by now.
It was August when she was let go from her part-time administrative assistant role due to her workplace restructuring. Since then, Mara estimates that she has applied for over 100 positions. She has also attended job fairs and taken free workshops on resume writing.
She has been working since high school, she said, but “ I’ve never been out of work for more than one month, so it’s very difficult.”
Mara spends time working at the computer at CareerForce, a resource for job seekers in Minnesota, on March 4.
Caroline Yang for NPR
hide caption
toggle caption
Caroline Yang for NPR
Although she misses her old job, Mara said it didn’t pay enough to support her and her kids, so she relied on SNAP benefits.
Many recipients are part of the low-wage labor market, where job security is often unpredictable and turnover tends to be high, according to Lauren Bauer, a researcher at the Brookings Institution who has studied SNAP extensively.
“SNAP is supposed to be there to help people smooth that and not let the bottom fall out when they experience job loss,” she said. “And this policy doesn’t account for that at all.”
Mara’s lowest point came in November when the government shutdown led to disruptions in SNAP benefits. Not only was she searching for a new job, but she was constantly figuring out where to get her family’s next meal.
“I might be looking for food stuff during the day when I should have been looking for a job,” she said. “Then, I’m trying to make up that time in the evening after my kids go to bed.”
During the pause, Mara turned to food banks, which revealed other challenges. First, food pantries do not always provide enough for an adult and two growing teenagers, she said. Second, they often lack gluten-free foods, which is essential for her daughter who has celiac disease, an autoimmune disorder that causes digestive problems if gluten is consumed. Gluten-free products tend to be more expensive.
If Mara loses access to SNAP again because of the new work requirements, she fears another stretch of long days spent looking for the right food and enough to feed her family.
“I would be so reliant on looking for food shelves or food banks,” she said. “There would not be time to even live.”
“We’re going to see increases in poverty. We’re going to see increases in food insecurity”
The Congressional Budget Office estimates that roughly 2.4 million people will lose food benefits in a typical month over the next decade as a result of the new SNAP requirements — including 300,000 parents like Mara with children 14 or older.
Gina Plata-Nino, the SNAP director at the nonprofit Food Research & Action Center, says many of the affected recipients will be single mothers who make up a majority of single parent households in the U.S. She added that the changes target a group that often lacks or struggles to afford a support system to help care for their children.
“How can they have a full-time job when they need to pick up their children [for] various activities?” she said. “And they are working — just not enough hours because they need to be there present for their children.”
Mara shops for groceries at a local discount grocery store.
Caroline Yang for NPR
hide caption
toggle caption
Caroline Yang for NPR
The new law also imposes work requirements on veterans, homeless people, young adults aging out of foster care, and able-bodied adults without dependents from ages 55 to 64.
It also toughened the criteria for waiving work requirements for recipients in areas with high unemployment. Previously, there were multiple ways to determine a weak labor market and secure a waiver. Now, it only applies to places with an unemployment rate above 10%. (Alaska and Hawaii have a different measure.)
For those who fail to meet the work requirement, SNAP provides assistance for up to three months within a three-year span. But Bauer from the Brookings Institution argues that it is not enough and the impact of SNAP changes will be widespread.
“We’re going to see increases in poverty. We’re going to see increases in food insecurity. We’re going to see increasing strain on the charitable food sector,” she said.
Mara holds her favorite anchor ring, which carries the inscription, “God for me provide thee.”
Caroline Yang for NPR
hide caption
toggle caption
Caroline Yang for NPR
As anxiety hangs over her head, Mara tries to put on a brave face for her children. She does not want them to worry, explaining that her recent struggles have reminded her how tough life can get as an adult.
“I remind them it’s not their responsibility and they’re not accountable for me or for what’s happening,” she said. “I say, just know you get to be a kid.”
Dylan Dreyer
Savannah Will Likely Come Back … Just Not Sure When
Published
TMZ.com
Dylan Dreyer is giving a small update on her embattled “Today” co-host, Savannah Guthrie, as the search continues for Savannah’s mom, Nancy — telling TMZ she does believe she’ll likely return to the show at some point.
We caught Dylan leaving NBC Tuesday afternoon, and she said while she thinks Savannah will come back, the timing is totally unclear — adding everyone at the show is simply giving her the space she needs because they care about her so much.
TMZ.com
Dylan also reflected on Savannah’s emotional visit to the “TODAY” studio last Thursday, saying the hug they shared was something they both really needed in that moment.
Catch the full clip — Dylan says the visit was incredibly emotional, adding Savannah clearly wants to get back to some sense of normal life … she just doesn’t quite know how yet.
Still, Savannah managed a few smiles during the brief stop by the studio, doing her best to keep moving forward during an incredibly tough time.
TMZ.com
As we reported, Nancy was taken from her Tucson home in the middle of the night on February 1. She was last seen entering the house just before 10 PM on January 31 after dinner with her daughter Annie and Annie’s husband, Tommaso Cioni.
Kevin Kline plays actor Richard Bean, and Laura Linney is his sister-in-law Kristen, in American Classic.
David Giesbrecht/MGM+
hide caption
toggle caption
David Giesbrecht/MGM+
American Classic is a hidden gem, in more ways than one. It’s hidden because it’s on MGM+, a stand-alone streaming service that, let’s face it, most people don’t have. But MGM+ is available without subscription for a seven-day free trial, on its website or through Prime Video and Roku. And you should find and watch American Classic, because it’s an absolutely charming and wonderful TV jewel.
Charming, in the way it brings small towns and ordinary people to life, as in Northern Exposure. Wonderful, in the way it reflects the joys of local theater productions, as in Slings & Arrows, and the American Playhouse production of Kurt Vonnegut’s Who Am I This Time?
The creators of American Classic are Michael Hoffman and Bob Martin. Martin co-wrote and co-created Slings & Arrows, so that comparison comes easily. And back in the early 1980s, Who Am I This Time? was about people who transformed onstage from ordinary citizens into extraordinary performers. It’s a conceit that works only if you have brilliant actors to bring it to life convincingly. That American Playhouse production had two young actors — Christopher Walken and Susan Sarandon — so yes, it worked. And American Classic, with its mix of veteran and young actors, does, too.
American Classic begins with Kevin Kline, as Shakespearean actor Richard Bean, confronting a New York Times drama critic about his negative opening-night review of Richard’s King Lear. The next day, Richard’s agent, played by Tony Shalhoub, calls Richard in to tell him his tantrum was captured by cellphone and went viral, and that he has to lay low for a while.
Richard returns home to the small town of Millersburg, Pa., where his parents ran a local theater. Almost everyone we meet is a treasure. His father, who has bouts of dementia, is played by Len Cariou, who starred on Broadway in Sweeney Todd. Richard’s brother, Jon, is played by Jon Tenney of The Closer, and his wife, Kristen, is played by the great Laura Linney, from Ozark and John Adams.
Things get even more complicated because the old theater is now a dinner theater, filling its schedule with performances by touring regional companies. Its survival is at risk, so Richard decides to save the theater by mounting a new production of Thornton Wilder’s Our Town, casting the local small-town residents to play … local small-town residents.
Miranda, Richard’s college-bound niece, continues the family theatrical tradition — and Nell Verlaque, the young actress who plays her, has a breakout role here. She’s terrific — funny, touching, totally natural. And when she takes the stage as Emily in Our Town, she’s heart-wrenching. Playwright Wilder is served magnificently here — and so is William Shakespeare, whose works and words Kline tackles in more than one inspirational scene in this series.
I don’t want to reveal too much about the conflicts, and surprises, in American Classic, but please trust me: The more episodes you watch, the better it gets. The characters evolve, and go in unexpected directions and pairings. Kline’s Richard starts out thinking about only himself, but ends up just the opposite. And if, as Shakespeare wrote, the play’s the thing, the thing here is, the plays we see, and the soliloquies we hear, are spellbinding.
And there’s plenty of fun to be had outside the classics in American Classic. The table reads are the most delightful since the ones in Only Murders in the Building. The dinner-table arguments are the most explosive since the ones in The Bear. Some scenes are take-your-breath-away dramatic. Others are infectiously silly, as when Richard works with a cast member forced upon him by the angel of this new Our Town production.
Take the effort to find, and watch, American Classic. It’ll remind you why, when it’s this good, it’s easy to love the theater. And television.
Irish heritage and history run deep in Maryland. Now to celebrate it.
Michigan hockey vs Notre Dame time, channel in Big Ten Tournament
Marijuana prices have been taking a nosedive. What comes next? – The Boston Globe
Minnesota lawmakers push bipartisan measures to regulate AI
Thompson defeats Turnage to highlight U.S. House primaries in Mississippi – SuperTalk Mississippi
Florida High School Football Rankings: Top 25 teams – Oct. 21
Cleary's 21 help Le Moyne down Central Connecticut State 69-64 in OT
How old is Bo Nix? What to know about Oregon quarterback ahead of 2024 NFL Draft
99th annual Pony Swim held in Virginia
Indiana Members Credit Union announced as new anchor tenant at Bottleworks District
EXCLUSIVE: ICE says El Paso detention facility will stay open under new contractor after $1.2B deal scrapped
Von der Leyen ‘acting outside of competence,’ Araud tells Euronews
Wheelchair curler Steve Emt’s path from drunk driver to three-time Paralympian
Map: 2.3-Magnitude Earthquake Reported North of New York City
Trump stirs GOP primary drama with visit to Massie’s Kentucky home turf
-
Wisconsin1 week agoSetting sail on iceboats across a frozen lake in Wisconsin
-
Massachusetts1 week agoMassachusetts man awaits word from family in Iran after attacks
-
Pennsylvania6 days agoPa. man found guilty of raping teen girl who he took to Mexico
-
Detroit, MI5 days agoU.S. Postal Service could run out of money within a year
-
Miami, FL6 days agoCity of Miami celebrates reopening of Flagler Street as part of beautification project
-
Sports6 days agoKeith Olbermann under fire for calling Lou Holtz a ‘scumbag’ after legendary coach’s death
-
Virginia7 days agoGiants will hold 2026 training camp in West Virginia
-
Culture1 week agoTry This Quiz on the Real Locations in These Magical and Mysterious Novels