Lifestyle
L.A. Affairs: Nothing scared me more than intimacy — except L.A. freeways. But I had to face them both
The first time I ever drove on the freeway was to tell my girlfriend that I loved her. At this point, I had lived in L.A. for four years. “You can’t not drive in L.A.,” everyone said when I moved here. But I worked from home and lived relatively close to most of my friends. I had Lyft and Uber, a TAP card and a borderline unhinged love of walking. My excuse was that I didn’t have a car and couldn’t afford to buy one, which wasn’t a lie. But the real reason was I was scared of driving and I had decided to succumb to that fear.
I wasn’t always an anxious driver. Growing up in Massachusetts, I got my license at 16 and cruised around in my grandma’s 1979 Peugeot that had one working door and wouldn’t have passed a safety inspection. But I felt invincible. Then I grew into a neurotic adult with an ever-growing list of rational and irrational fears — from weird headaches and mold to running into casual acquaintances at the grocery store.
In my early 30s, I developed a terrible phobia of flying. “It’s so much safer than driving in a car!” people said to comfort me. So I did some research. This did not assuage my fear of flying, but it did succeed in making me also afraid of driving. I lived in New York City at the time, where being a nondriver was easy. In L.A., it was less easy, but I made it work.
When I was single, I appreciated that dating apps let me sort potential matches by location. I set my limit to “within five miles” from my apartment in West Hollywood and tried to manifest an ideal partner who would live within this perfectly reasonable radius. This proved somewhat complicated. My first boyfriend in L.A. moved from Los Feliz to Eagle Rock six months into our relationship, and we broke up. There were other issues, but the distance was the final straw.
I did eventually get a car but was restricted by my intense fear of the massive, sprawling conduits of chaos known as the L.A. freeways. Lanes come and go. Exits appear out of nowhere. And everyone drives like they’re auditioning for “The Fast and the Furious.” So I took surface streets everywhere, even when it doubled my driving time. I became pretty comfortable behind the wheel as long as I remained in my little bubble of safety. Then I fell in love.
Spencer and I met 14 years ago through a close mutual friend when we both lived in Brooklyn. Our friend had talked her up so much that I was nervous to meet her as if she were a celebrity, but she immediately made me feel at ease. She’s confident and comfortable in her skin but also exudes a warmth that makes people feel secure. At the time, I was newly sober, and feeling comfortable — especially around someone I’d just met — was rare.
Not long after we met she moved to Philly, and our lives went in different directions. She was starting med school. I was writing for an addiction website and doing stand-up comedy. She was living with her long-term girlfriend. I was trying to date the most emotionally unavailable people I could find, which my therapist (and every self-help book in Barnes & Noble) attributed to a fear of intimacy.
A decade later, we both ended up in Los Angeles. She had broken up with her girlfriend and was a resident at UCLA. I was taking screenwriting classes and walking everywhere. We texted a few times to hang out, but then the COVID-19 pandemic hit, keeping her busy in the hospital and me busy at home spraying my groceries with Clorox. Multiple vaccines later, we finally met up at the AMC theater at the Century City mall. Just as I remembered, she felt like home.
Over the next few months, we went to about nine movies together, our hands occasionally touching in a shared bucket of popcorn, before I finally got the courage to tell her I had developed feelings for her. We’d become close friends at this point, and the stakes felt alarmingly high. Also, she was emotionally available. Uncharted territory for me.
“I like like you,” I said one night while we were on my couch watching “Curb Your Enthusiasm.” My voice was shaking and also muffled, because I was hiding under a blanket.
This confession was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done, and I’ve done a lot of scary things — gotten sober, did stand-up in front of my entire family (don’t recommend this), come out as queer to a bunch of conservative Midwesterners on a study-abroad trip (one girl took a selfie with me and sent it to her mom with the note, “I met a bisexual and she’s really nice!”). But I learned in recovery that sometimes when something is scary, we are meant to run toward it rather than away from it. That night, Spencer pulled the blanket off my head and told me she felt the same.
This beautiful, confident “Curb”-loving doctor did have one red flag. She lived in Santa Monica, at the end of a six-mile stretch on the 10 Freeway. On side streets, getting from my apartment to hers could take up to an hour or longer in traffic. After a few months, we were seeing each other so often that the commute had become unmanageable.
Also unmanageable were my feelings. One night, about four months into our relationship, I told two close friends that I loved Spencer but was scared to tell her. The absence of these words had become a weight between us, triggering insecurities and petty fights. My friends urged me to tell her and thought I should do it that night (we’d been watching “Yellowjackets” and were feeling a little dramatic). I felt emboldened. But it was 10 p.m. on a work night and it would take 45 minutes to get to her house by my usual route.
I called her. “I’m coming over!” I said. Twenty minutes later, I was merging onto the 10. I drove too slowly, got off at the wrong exit and gripped the steering wheel so hard my fingers went numb. But when I got to Spencer’s apartment, I was bolstered by adrenaline and the rush of having conquered my fear. I had driven on the 10 — at night. I could survive anything. I told her I loved her. She said it back. I didn’t even hide under a blanket.
This was two years ago. Since then, I’ve driven on the 10 hundreds of times between Spencer’s apartment and mine. Now we live together, which significantly cuts down on the commute. I still prefer a side street, but I’ll take the freeway if I have to. Since mastering the 10, I’ve also braved the 5 Freeway, the 101 Freeway and even the 405 Freeway. Spencer always tells me I’m “brave.” I’m starting to believe her.
The author is an L.A.-based writer, editor and comedian and co-host of the podcast “All My Only Children.” She’s on Instagram and Threads: @maywilkerson
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.
From its underground psychedelic scene to iconic cinematic composers, Rome is a city rich in musical history. For our latest Sense of Place series, the World Cafe team traveled to Italy’s capital city to capture a sliver of Rome’s musical wonders.
From June 20 to July 2, we’ll be sharing dispatches from our Sense of Place: Rome series. We’ll visit the studio where Ennio Morricone recorded cinematic masterpieces for films like The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. We’ll also take you inside a record label dedicated to preserving lost B-movie soundtracks.
The series will highlight contemporary musicians shaping the sounds of Rome and Italy today, like Laila al Habash. The Rome-born, Milan-based artist shares with us how her Palestinian roots inspire her music.
To kick things off, we’ve put together a mixtape with some of the music that’ll be featured throughout our latest Sense of Place series, plus some extra Italian classics to set the mood.
On top of interviews and stories, we also have a slate of performances, recorded live in Italy. Check out the full schedule of episodes below:
June 20 – Four Flies Records
A Rome-based label with a unique mission: recovering and reissuing Italian B-movie soundtracks from the 1960s-’80s. Founder Pier De Sanctis shares the stories behind these cinematic gems.
June 23 – Weird Bloom
The sound of ’70s psychedelic glam rock lives on in Rome. Frontman Luca Di Cataldo talks about his work with producer Don Bolles and cultivating a local music scene through his indie label and studio, Pom Pom.
June 24 – Laila al Habash
The Rome-born, Milan-based artist shares why she writes in Italian, how her Palestinian roots inspire her music, and performs songs from her latest EP and upcoming album, Tempo.
June 25 – Ludovico Einaudi
One of the most-streamed classical composers in the world, Einaudi reflects on memory, family and his latest album, The Summer Portraits, plus the story behind his Arctic piano performance.
June 26 – Danger Mouse & Daniele Luppi on Rome
This encore episode revisits the duo’s cinematic 2011 album, Rome, recorded at the legendary Forum Studios with a nod to Spaghetti Western soundtracks and Morricone’s legacy.
June 27 – Forum Studios
Go inside the famed Roman studio founded by Morricone and other composers in 1969. Instruments from classic soundtracks still echo through this space, and its story lives on through the studio’s current director.
June 30 – Black Snake Moan
A one-man psychedelic blues band channeling the spirit of the American Southwest while drawing from his own roots in the Italian countryside. Plus, Black Snake Moan performs a live set recorded at Studio 33 in Rome.
July 1 – Six Bars Jail
This volunteer-run folk club outside Florence has hosted finger-style guitarists from around the world since 2006. Hear how the tradition continues in an intimate and unexpected setting.
July 2 – Ariete
A rising Italian pop star with a soulful, introspective style, Ariete talks about coming of age in music, earning her family’s support, and what really launched her career, plus she performs a stripped-down session at Studio 33.
This year is the Ebony Beach Club’s fourth annual Juneteenth celebration. The club’s founder, Brick, is pictured holding the club’s flag above his head.
(Cerys Davies / Los Angeles Times)
The Ebony Beach Club‘s priority is to create a space for Black beachside communities in Los Angeles. So, every year on Juneteenth, they transform a local beach into a full-blown festival, consisting of nonstop DJs, a vivacious dance floor and neighborly vendors. This year, the beach club partnered with Black Lives Matter and took over the Santa Monica Pier. Here’s everything that went down.
12:39 p.m. I arrive early. Ebony Beach Club founder, Brick, runs from vendor to vendor, ensuring everyone is ready for the day ahead. He boasts that there’s “not a cloud in sight” — and that everything is aligning for today’s “historic moment.”
In the corners of the festival, there were several shaded tables where partygoers took refuge from the blazing sun. The pictured couple was swaying to the distant sounds of old school R&B.
(Cerys Davies / Los Angeles Times)
1:58 p.m. I never thought I would be able to say I’ve found a sense of inner peace in the middle of the Santa Monica Pier. The typically chaotic environment is transformed by rhythmic breathing exercises and sound bath frequencies. For a moment, it does feel like I am cooking under the hot summer sun, but still, I couldn’t be more at ease.
Early attendants, including myself, laid out on yoga mats, absorbed spiritual frequencies and set our intentions for the day.
(Cerys Davies / Los Angeles Times)
3:09 p.m. So far, the music selection transcends generations. Anything from Aaliyah to YG and Frankie Beverly fills the beachy air. But after hearing more than one early 2000s Ne-Yo classic, I can’t help but wonder what he’s up to. Why the lack of 2025 Ne-Yo bangers?
3:40 p.m. The crowd is slowly growing. Most partygoers sport a mix of brightly colored swimwear with denim shorts or matching mini skirts. Others wear graphic tees that commemorate the holiday and show L.A. pride. The most standout looks so far have included bejeweled thongs, color-coordinated snapbacks and sneakers and pleated, baggy jorts.
Amid the crowd, Maya Hatcher, founder of Black Market Flea, posed for a quick portrait.
(Cerys Davies / Los Angeles Times)
3:58 p.m. In the flash of a moment, a familiar face glides through the crowded pier. Her grill catches the light and a pair of Labubus hangs from a designer bag. It’s none other than R&B royalty Kehlani. A growing swarm of fans start to catch on. I get my chance to say something as she passes. I compliment her latest single and let her continue on her mission to the bar. Cool, casual and of course, no mention of the fact that I was listening to the Kehlani Spotify radio on the whole drive over.
4:45 p.m. Brick halts the music and offers a quick history lesson from the DJ decks. He speaks of the first Ebony Beach Club, started by a man named Silas White in 1957. That year, 2,000 Black people, including Brick’s own grandfather, signed up to be members. But the City of Santa Monica had barred it from ever opening.
Today’s Ebony Beach Club celebration roughly creates space for around 2,000 people to be at the exact same beach and enjoy the party.
“This is the most Black people the Santa Monica pier has seen in a while,” said Brick, who was met with an echoing applause. “Today, we are Black people who are occupying this space for the first time in a long time.”
As the sun started to hang lower in the sky, the dance floor got more lively by the minute.
(Cerys Davies / Los Angeles Times)
5:30 p.m. The emcee says, “If you’re outside the barricade, I’m sorry. If you couldn’t get a ticket, I’m sorry.” He addresses the consistent crowd of onlookers who have lingered by the barricades. Some appear to be tourists, but most spectators seem like they were too late to grab a ticket. Nonetheless, they are able to indulge in the sights and sounds, even if it’s for only a few minutes.
6:17 p.m. What’s an L.A. party without Los Tucanes de Tijuana’s “La Chona?” The norteño anthem gets mixed into T.I. ‘s “What You Know.” Unexpected, but somehow serendipitous.
Depending on each track, the microphone was passed to different members of Brick’s friend group. At one point, influencer and rapper Aliyah’s Interlude took center stage.
7:25 p.m. I’m starting to seriously question the weight limit on the truck. Though its height is that of a monster truck, it has the feel of a clown car. The truck bed, filled with DJ equipment, is overflowing with people singing along and jumping to the beat. People are perched atop the car, as well as those hanging off its side, in an impressive, partially aerial twerk. I can’t even imagine the kind of core strength that it takes.
7:51 p.m. As the party wraps up, Sexyy Red’s distinctive vocals overtake the crowd. It feels like one final hurrah. If there’s been one consistent feeling that’s marked the entire party, it’s been an infectious sense of joy.
8:05 p.m. On the way back to the car, people yell “Happy Juneteenth” out their car windows. My feet are a bit achy and the tops of my shoulders a little sore to the touch, but spirits are still high. Now for the biggest test of patience — braving the traffic of leaving a Santa Monica parking structure.
(Cerys Davies / Los Angeles Times)
Museum of London Archaeology specialist Han Li lays out plaster fragments found in London from a Roman building that was demolished some time before A.D. 200.
©MOLA/Museum of London Archaeology
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©MOLA/Museum of London Archaeology
LONDON — A remarkable archaeological endeavor in the heart of the British capital has brought to light one of the most extensive collections of painted Roman wall plaster ever unearthed in the city.
Thousands of vibrant fragments, which once adorned a high-status Roman building, offer an unprecedented glimpse into the artistic sophistication and daily life of ancient Londinium, and their rearrangement is showcasing artworks that have remained hidden for over 1,800 years.
The discovery, made at “The Liberty” development site in the city’s Southwark neighborhood, builds upon previous significant finds in the area, including intricate mosaics and a rare Roman mausoleum.
The sheer volume of the plaster fragments, however, was not immediately apparent to archaeologists.
The material was found discarded in a sizable pit, shattered as a consequence of Roman-era demolition activities that occurred before A.D. 200.
The painstaking process of reassembling these fragments has been a monumental undertaking, experts say, akin to solving an immense historical puzzle.
Leading this intricate reconstruction effort was the Museum of London Archaeology (MOLA) where Han Li, the senior building material specialist, spent three months meticulously laying out and piecing together the fragments.
The result is a stunning restoration that allows these ancient frescoes to be viewed in their original splendor for the first time in nearly two millennia.
“This has been a ‘once in a lifetime’ moment, so I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness when I started to lay the plaster out,” Li said in a MOLA press release.
Sections of floral decoration are seen on the Liberty wall plaster. The recovered artworks depict bright yellow panel designs interspersed with black sections, exquisitely decorated with motifs of birds, fruit, flowers and lyres.
©MOLA/Museum of London Archaeology
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©MOLA/Museum of London Archaeology
“Many of the fragments were very delicate and pieces from different walls had been jumbled together when the building was demolished,” well before the Romans had abandoned Britain as their empire began to recede, he said. “The result was seeing wall paintings that even individuals of the late Roman period in London would not have seen.”
The recovered artworks depict bright yellow panel designs interspersed with black sections, exquisitely decorated with motifs of birds, fruit, flowers and lyres.
Such panel designs were a common feature in Roman wall decoration, according to MOLA, but the prevalence of yellow panels was unusual. Similar designs have been identified at only a handful of sites across Britain, including the opulent Fishbourne Roman Palace, about 60 miles to the southwest of this site.
Beyond their aesthetic appeal, the fragments offer unique insights into Roman artistry and literacy. Among the more than 120 boxes of painted plaster, archaeologists uncovered what appears to be the first known example of a painter’s signature in Roman Britain.
![Framed by a tabula ansata — a decorative tablet that’s typically used to sign artworks — an inscription includes the Latin word 'FECIT,' meaning "has made [this]."](https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims3/default/strip/false/crop/7050x3711+0+0/resize/1800/quality/85/format/webp/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fnpr-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2F48%2Fda%2Fc64b9abd4d43aa026d36734e3cce%2Fthe-remains-of-the-tabula-ansata-mola-museum-of-london-archaeology.jpg)
Framed by a tabula ansata — a decorative tablet that’s typically used to sign artworks — an inscription includes the Latin word ‘FECIT,’ meaning “has made [this].”
©MOLA/Museum of London Archaeology
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©MOLA/Museum of London Archaeology
Framed by a tabula ansata — a decorative tablet that’s typically used to sign artworks — the inscription includes the Latin word ‘FECIT,’ meaning “has made [this].” But the section bearing the artist’s name is missing, leaving their identity a mystery.
Further intriguing details include ancient graffiti left by the building’s occupants or visitors. One fragment features a nearly complete ancient Greek alphabet, the only known instance of such an inscription from Roman Britain.
The precise scoring of the letters suggests a skilled hand, indicating it was not merely writing practice but possibly served a practical purpose, such as a checklist or reference. Another piece reveals the face of a weeping woman, depicted with a hairstyle characteristic of the Flavian period, which dated from A.D. 69-96.
The artistic influences evident in these frescoes extend beyond Britain, drawing inspiration from wall decorations found in other parts of the Roman Empire, such as Xanten and Cologne in Germany, and Lyon in France. Some fragments even mimic high-status wall tiles, such as red Egyptian porphyry and African giallo antico marble, styles also seen in Londinium north of the River Thames, the southern English town of Colchester, and Pompeii in Italy.
London was originally founded as a city — Londinium — soon after the Roman invasion in A.D. 43, and has consistently yielded significant archaeological treasures. In recent years, numerous excavations have unearthed remnants of Roman roads, buildings and artifacts, continuously reshaping historians’ understanding of this ancient metropolis.
The sheer scale and detail of the Southwark plaster collection provide an unparalleled opportunity, according to MOLA, to study Roman domestic art and the lives of its inhabitants.
Research into each plaster piece is ongoing, with Han Li and his MOLA colleagues continuing to analyze the work of these ancient painters. Their efforts will involve comparing the Liberty wall paintings with other examples from Britain and the broader Roman world.
The findings will be published, and the fragments archived for future academic study, with plans for eventual public display, allowing contemporary audiences to witness these extraordinary artistic legacies from a bygone era.
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