Lifestyle

Ode to a Gen-Z Situationship

Published

1 year ago

March 28, 2025

I met Jacob at an overcrowded Abba-themed dance night. He was wearing a faux-fur head wrap. He seemed so young. I was 33. Still, I thought he was cute. When we locked eyes on the smoking patio, I thought the feeling was mutual.

We got to chatting. Jacob said he worked “in music,” which I took to mean he sometimes played the guitar. He asked what I did, and I brushed off the question. I didn’t feel like talking about work.

A week earlier, my ex had moved out of our apartment. After six years together, he said, “Anna, I don’t think this is working.” And just like that, we were over. There were plenty of reasons. We argued too much, had different timelines for children. And then there was the sex — or lack thereof.

Couples therapy helped with the arguing but not the intimacy. When he finally handed me his key, I sat in my half-empty apartment and cried.

Now, with Jacob, I thought about how most of my friends were starting families and buying houses. And here I was at Abba Night, drinking a vodka soda.

He asked for my number. I gave it to him, not expecting much.

The next day, he asked if I wanted to get a drink. We met for margaritas. I was early. I realized that I barely remembered his face. All I knew was that he seemed young. As I waited at the bar, I wondered just how young. Finally, he appeared, looking like he was dressed for Coachella — baggy cargo pants and chunky, layered necklaces. I could barely meet his gaze.

He was 24, almost a decade younger. I was embarrassed, but Jacob shrugged.

“Age doesn’t matter,” he said.

Which of course, wasn’t true.

He told me he was a rapper and that his tracks had done well on Spotify. I was surprised. Impressed, even. He said a manager was interested, but he’d have to fork over a huge chunk of his profits.

I started to give him advice — as a TV writer, I had experience with predatory contracts. Then I stopped myself. Did I sound like his mother? We talked more. We didn’t have much in common, but I wasn’t ready to give up. When we finished our margaritas, I suggested a second bar.

The next place was swanky. The bartender gave me a funny look. Was he judging me? Maybe nine-and-a-half years wasn’t that much, but I’d never been on this side of an age gap. In my early 20s, I had dated a handful of older men. At the time, I found their age alluring, but hindsight had made me skeptical of their attraction. I once heard that adult brains aren’t fully developed until the age of 25. Was my young self simply easier to manipulate?

Sitting with Jacob, I wondered if now I was the creepy older man. I ordered myself an orange wine and he blinked. “What’s that?” he asked.

I explained it had something to do with the grape skins. He nodded blankly, then he asked what I was working on. I told him about my horror script about a girl who loses her mind in the woods. He listened, eyes wide. He told me it sounded “like a real movie.” I knew he meant it as a compliment.

Jacob was a gentle lover, if a bit nervous. He lingered in my living room for an hour before kissing me. I didn’t mind. He was a good kisser. And when he ran his fingers along my arm, the age gap disappeared. We were just two people on a fitted sheet, trying to feel less alone. For once, sex felt effortless.

On our second date, Jacob showed me his music. It was chaotic and loud. Even his voice — deep and full of swagger — felt unfamiliar. I didn’t understand it.

On our third date, lying naked in bed, I told Jacob I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I explained that I was emotionally unavailable because of my breakup. He said that was OK. Perfect, in fact. Because he wanted to focus on his music, not love. We agreed to keep things casual.

“Casual” meant seeing each other once a week. He always offered to pay, but usually I grabbed the check. I knew my TV writer salary exceeded his Spotify profits. He lived in a cramped studio apartment and slept on a futon. I had slept there once, but my back hurt so much from the flimsy cushions that I vowed never to do it again.

Two months in, we went clubbing with his friends in a sweaty basement bar where everyone seemed younger than me. I was dressed in high-waisted Zara jeans and a tank top I’d bought in 2017. The other women wore low-slung pants with tiny crop tops, oozing the kind of confidence you feel when you’re still on your parents’ health insurance.

One vented to me about her on-again-off-again boyfriend. I suggested couples therapy. She looked at me like I had told her to eat a shoe.

The next morning, I peered into my bathroom mirror, hyper-aware of the wrinkles on my forehead. I had turned 30 in the first year of Covid. Prepandemic, I didn’t remember ever having wrinkles. Post-pandemic, my face seemed centuries older.

After three months, I found myself falling for Jacob. On Valentine’s Day, I took him to my favorite sushi restaurant. Afterward, in bed, I told him how I felt. I said I didn’t need a serious relationship, but I wanted to take things to the next level. Maybe a weekend trip?

He grew quiet. “Maybe,” he said.

During our next date, Jacob dumped me. We had just ordered our entrees when he dropped the bomb, saying, “I think we should roll things back romantically.”

I didn’t get it. Was this about the weekend trip? He said it was everything. I never understood his jokes. We had different interests. And hadn’t we agreed to keep things casual? Didn’t I notice that when I told him I was falling for him, he never said it back?

The waiter returned with our entrees — salad for me, and a big bowl of mac and cheese for Jacob. Waiting for the bill, I wanted to cry, but I refused. It was one thing to date a 24-year-old in a faux-fur head wrap; it was quite another to get dumped by one.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. At 3 a.m., I opened Spotify and clicked Jacob’s first track. I listened over and over until the music no longer confused me. What had initially sounded chaotic now seemed urgent and driving.

I searched Spotify for similar artists. It was as if dating Jacob had opened my eyes to the fact that there was a new generation of people creating art, and it was worth trying to understand. Obvious, maybe, but I’d missed it.

Jacob and I had only dated a few months and barely scratched the surface of our emotions. We were, by all accounts, a “situationship.” And I had spent most of it focused on myself. Because I paid for things, I chose what we did, what we ate. And it wasn’t just that. He seemed endlessly impressed by my writing career. He made me feel like I had things figured out. But I hadn’t considered how it all made him feel. That maybe the constant focus on my life made him feel small and unmoored.

A month later, I willed myself onto the dating apps. When I met Jacob, I was reeling from heartbreak. But things had changed, and I had to admit that sex with anyone would now, inevitably, lead to feelings.

I soon matched with a guy named Lucas. He was 45, with eye wrinkles and gray hair in his beard. On our second date, he took me to a fancy restaurant and ordered the orange wine. He had just bought a house in Encino and redone the floors. After our fourth date, he suggested a weekend trip. Maybe Santa Barbara?

I liked Lucas, but what was I doing flinging myself so far across the age spectrum? Lucas wanted something serious. Was I ready for that? I told my therapist I was thinking of breaking it off. She asked why. I said, “Because he’s old!”

She laughed. “If you like him, that’s all that matters.”

I said yes to Santa Barbara.

A year after my breakup with Jacob, he texted me. He was now 25, meaning his brain had officially finished developing. When he asked if I would like to meet up, I was shocked. Did he finally realize that he couldn’t live without me? He clarified that he still didn’t want anything serious, but would I be interested in a no-strings hookup?

I politely declined. Lucas and I had plans.

Related Topics:dating and relationships Featured Generation Z Love (Emotion)

Click to comment

Lifestyle

Appeals court denies Trump’s request to halt removal of his name from the Kennedy Center

Published

5 hours ago

July 9, 2026

Press Room

Appeals court denies Trump’s request to halt removal of his name from the Kennedy Center

The Kennedy Center on June 28, with its facade signage still covered by a tarp and scaffolding.

Alex Wroblewski/AFP via Getty Images

hide caption

toggle caption

Alex Wroblewski/AFP via Getty Images

On Wednesday, a federal appeals court denied President Trump’s request to stop the removal of his name from Washington, D.C.’s Kennedy Center. The signage on the building has been covered with tarp and scaffolding since June 13, but in a court filing last month, the center’s current executive director said that Trump’s name has been removed.

In their decision, three judges from the U.S. District Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit said that the president had failed to prove that the arts center would be “irreparably injured” without Trump’s name attached to it.

A tarp covers the facade of the John F. Kennedy Memorial Center for the Performing Arts in Washington, DC, on June 13. A federal judge has asked the arts complex's leadership to explain the purpose of the tarp and the surrounding scaffolding.

NPR requested comment from the Kennedy Center, but did not receive an immediate reply.

This latest round of court decisions is part of the ongoing litigation filed by Rep. Joyce Beatty, D-Ohio, against President Trump and the board of the Kennedy Center. In a statement emailed Wednesday to NPR, Beatty said: “Today’s ruling again affirms that this administration’s efforts to rename the Kennedy Center were unlawful. His name no longer desecrates this sacred memorial, which belongs to the American people. Now it is time for the Trump administration to accept this, comply with the law, and take the tarps down.”

In previous court filings, Trump’s legal team had asserted that removing the president’s name from the arts complex, both on the physical building and in its digital materials, would inflict irreparable harm in both time and money already spent. In the denial, the three judges — Patricia Millett, Robert Wilkins and Gregory Katsas — wrote that since Trump’s name has already been removed, “a stay would not avert those harms.”

Furthermore, Trump had claimed that without his name attached, future fundraising would be threatened “and [will] contribute to the financial decline of the Center.” In response, the appeals judges wrote: “Appellants, however, have failed to support this assertion with any specific facts or evidence. They offer only the conclusory assertions of the Kennedy Center’s Executive Director that were made in a factually unsupported declaration.” The center’s current executive director, Matt Floca, specializes in physical plant management.

Lifestyle

A meal with an animated Mona Lisa? Immersive dining goes high tech — but will L.A. eat it up?

Published

6 hours ago

July 9, 2026

Press Room

A meal with an animated Mona Lisa? Immersive dining goes high tech — but will L.A. eat it up?

My dinner course is served. It is a Campbell’s-inspired soup can, lightly angled so strands of broccoli are peeking out. I lift the can to uncover a slow-braised short rib and mashed potatoes. An American dish to represent an American artist, here Andy Warhol.

The room is overtaken with projections, scenes of bustling New York traffic paired with bachelor-pad-like guitar riffs. Shown on a wall above a dinner table is a selection of Warhol silkscreens. It’s a Friday night in West Hollywood, and I’m surrounded by a mix of out-of-towners and those celebrating an anniversary. And while this is a special occasion, we’re urged to get a little messy with our food — to use our hands, to paint with a salad, to draw on a cookie.

The main course: A tomato soup can? “7 Paintings” is an immersive event that occasionally hides dishes in artist-inspired presentations.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Play is the primary side dish at “7 Paintings,” a tech-infused dinner theater that aims to be a crash course in fine art. That selection of veggies paired with multiple mini cups of colorful dressings? Guests are encouraged to mix and match the vinaigrettes into a mess of hues, a nod to abstractionist Jackson Pollock. And yellowfin tuna with dashes of avocado and taro chips? That’s an edible tribute to Banksy, of course. What does raw fish have to do with stenciled street art? It’s bold, heavily angled and has a short shelf life? Maybe? Perhaps don’t overthink it.

“Have you ever eaten a painting before?” says Nadine Beshir, the Dubai-based creator of “7 Paintings.” “We try to get people out of their comfort zones and eating paper. I want to bring out the child in them.”

“7 Paintings,” held at Sunset House L.A. through the end of August, is the latest example of immersive dining to arrive in this city. These experiences often involve guest participation and are accentuated with advanced multimedia technology and sometimes theatrical elements.

Worldwide, there have been standouts. For instance, Eatrenalin at Germany’s Europa-Park, a dining room-meets-ride where participants are whisked around the space on trackless “floating chairs,” has just received a coveted Michelin star. Ibiza’s Sublimotion has similar haute ambitions, pairing 12 diners together in a room that will come alive with otherworldly projections and performers. At times, diners will win don virtual reality headgear.

But tech-driven immersive dining experiences have never quite taken off in Los Angeles as a trend. Last year, the Gallery, where fantastical cityscapes and projections surrounded downtown L.A. diners, stood just a couple months before the concept was abandoned.

A dinner event titled "7 Paintings" is a 7-course meal with projections

Bartender Luca Famulari shakes a cocktail at the immersive dining event.

“The economics of a restaurant are not the same as the economics of theater and the challenge of combining the two lies in thinking outside the box with respect to pricing and cost structure, such that the customer perceives high value from both the food and the experience,” says the Gallery co-founder Daren Ulmer.

Entrepreneurs keep aiming for that careful balance. “Le Petit Chef and Friends” is currently running at Tangier at downtown’s Hotel Figueroa, an event in which a fully animated film is projected on our plates and tables. Long-running pop-up event Fork N’ Film leans more dinner and movie, pairing dishes directly inspired by what is happening on screen. Upcoming films include “Ratatouille” and “Lilo and Stitch.”

The field comes with challenges. “The costs are very high,” says Joanna Garner, an immersive designer and former creative director with experiential art firm Meow Wolf. Garner has been experimenting herself with communal, immersive dinner events, and her next, the flirtatious “Please Open Your Mouth,” is set for July 11. (No tech there, as Garner is after a more sensual, adult-focused gathering.) Tickets for her event are $150 and a spot in the “7 Paintings” dining room runs $175, priced on par with a number of city’s most acclaimed restaurants.

There is also the reality that all public dining is in some fashion immersive, usually requiring varying combinations of engagement, communication and presentation. And then, are all these added elements distracting?

An animated Mona Lisa sits on the wall as guests enjoy their meals.

Throughout “7 Paintings,” for instance, an animated Mona Lisa, situated on the wall next to the main dinner table, will provide brief biographical details of each artist represented.

“Being able to nail the food, and nail the story, those are two very difficult threads to weave,” Garner says. “I do think, ultimately, people come to a dinner table to talk to the people at the table and to have intimate experiences. To have an experience where you’re constantly being taken away from the food, I’m not so sure if that’s what people are looking for.”

Food is framed as a star of “7 Paintings” but tasting it is just one component. At one point, we must uncover a cheese course in a tiny treasure chest, the code for the lock hidden in the projections (don’t stress, it’s not a hard puzzle). Beshir highlights the Pollock-inspired salad course, which is accentuated with a jazz soundtrack, as the thesis of the evening.

1 A guest uses a silicon brush to apply sauces onto an entree, a nod to abstractionist Jackson Pollock.

2 Projections fill up the dining table during meals.

1. A guest uses a silicon brush to apply sauces onto an entree, a nod to abstractionist Jackson Pollock. 2. Projections fill up the dining table during meals.

“This course is really about getting people to free their minds from preconceived ideas,” Beshir says. “Like, you have to eat with a fork and knife, or the salad comes and then the dressing. No, the dressing comes and then the salad, and it’s trying with big brushes to paint the way he did. A lot of people do not understand Abstract Expressionism, and they think it’s people just splashing colors around. But when you understand the link between the rhythm of the music and painting, you live it. We give you time to paint with your salad dressing.”

In L.A., Beshir has partnered with nightlife impresario Kim Kelly, who is plotting a “Sleep No More”-inspired walk-around theatrical show for the Sunset House venue later this year. “7 Paintings,” however, is fully seated, and purposefully a little silly. Beshir and Kelly have been evolving it during its L.A. run, recently adding a stronger painting component by giving guests their own canvas to work on throughout the evening. Each night crowns a winner.

“Everyone comes over to look at their art,” Kelly says. “It just kind of changed the whole thing, to be honest. People are now being creative throughout the entire evening. Instead of just watching and occasionally painting, you’re now painting the whole time.”

As for what, perhaps, soba noodles with edamame and mushrooms have to do with Pablo Picasso, or why Salvador Dali gets an unexpected dessert course of a white chocolate potato souffle, Beshir clarifies the goal of the evening. While the animated Mona Lisa will provide backstories on each painter, this isn’t an educational night. “It’s fun dining, not fine dining,” Beshir says.

And by the end of my night, strangers were socializing, showing off their painted cookie creations, sharing Banksy tidbits and asking for recommendations on various vinaigrette combinations. Ultimately, it’s an evening of discovery, packed with surprises like finding an entire course hidden under a canvas.

Two men smile as they dine at a dinner event

“We try not to have too much sophistication, like fried ants or something. I’m personally very adventurous in how I eat, but if I want to have this in 100 cities around the world, I cannot be too meticulous.”

And Beshir has big goals.

“I want this be your movie and dinner thing,” Beshir says. “I want people to be waiting for our next show, and to be able to afford to come every couple months.”

And to come home not with leftovers, but perhaps a painting of their own.

Lifestyle

We unpack the 2026 Emmy nominations : Pop Culture Happy Hour

Published

15 hours ago

July 8, 2026

Press Room

We unpack the 2026 Emmy nominations : Pop Culture Happy Hour

Matthew Rhys was nominated for his role in Widow’s Bay.

Apple TV

hide caption

toggle caption

Apple TV

The 2026 Emmy nominations are here. We’re unpacking the record-breaking nominations for Hacks, plus a big day for Widow’s Bay, The Pitt, and The Bear. We’ll also talk about the snubs and make some early predictions of who will win.

Connect with Pop Culture Happy Hour:

Letterboxd / Facebook

Our weekly newsletter

Support Pop Culture Happy Hour+