Dating. Again.

Last night was my first post-breakup real date not to be confused with my post-breakup rebound. Saturday night was an actual date which wouldn’t have happened had I not broken my new year’s resolution #1. I met him at one of my gyms.  Our deep and meaningful conversation in the gym parking lot led to exchanging phone numbers and agreeing to a date. Right after I agreed to a date on a Saturday night I started to have major regrets. First, it was a Saturday night. I’d much rather be getting my wine on at Bar Covell, my favorite bar in LA. Second, I started to get the sense that he might not be that smart. Don’t ask me why.

After agreeing to a dinner on Saturday evening sometime on Tuesday, I kept hoping he’ll forget about the date sometime between Tuesday and Saturday. That didn’t happen. I ran into him at the gym and he confirmed our dinner plans. There was no way out. I could have lied, but when I agree to do something I follow through. At around 7:32 pm I was convinced he was not going to show up. I was wrong. He showed up.

So I asked, “Do you know where you’re taking me for dinner?” I was hoping he would mention someplace in Hollywood. Like Magnolia, The District, or Sushi Ike, just to name a few. But all I got was “Yes” as he slowly drove down my street, turned left on Franklin and headed east driving 17 mph in a 35 mile zone.

We approached Franklin Village — about a mile from my apartment — with a row of awesome restaurants. “Maybe he’s taking me to La Poubelle or Prizzi’s,” I thought to myself. But he kept driving.

The suspense was killing me. I love food. I like to know where I’m eating my food. He kept driving east on Franklin without giving me any clues. My mind kept racing. “Maybe he’s taking me somewhere in Los Feliz,” I thought. There’s Little Dom’s, Vinotecca Farfalla, Gelato Bar, Alcove and many more. But he turned left on Western — which becomes Los Feliz — and he kept driving east.

The optimist in me thought that there’s a chance he might turn right on Vermont or Hillhurst and get back to Los Feliz where good food awaits. But then I realized that he’s driving to Glendale. Yes. I said Glendale. Where my mother lives. Maybe he’s taking me to an Armenian restaurant. There’s good food in Glendale, but it’s not known for its food scene. There is Portos Bakery (but it closes at 7pm), awesome Armenian restaurants, some good Peruvian places and so on.

I kept holding on to the rays of hope as he turned left on Brand and I thought maybe he had done some yelping and was taking me to Palate Food + Wine. But he kept driving.

And just as he turned left and headed towards the parking structure at Americana on Brand my optimism took a nosedive. “Maybe he’s lost,” I thought. I kept holding on to a glimmer of hope, thinking he was going to exit the parking lot, as he drove his car all the way to the 7th level of the structure and parked his car in the farthest spot from the elevators. But the date was doomed when he announced that we’re going to Cheesecake Factory, his favorite place! That’s right. I said Cheesecake Factory.  We had driven past at least 50 really awesome places on our way to Glendale so we could have a lovely meal at Cheesecake Factory. The lovely hostess took his name down, and asked him to come back in 10 minutes to get the vibrating buzzer which would inform us in another 30-40 minutes when our table was ready.

I couldn’t help but think about my first solid-food dinner-date with my ex when he turned right on 3rd Street and I immediately guessed that he was taking me to AOC.

Never would have guessed Cheesecake Factory. Sadly, the choice of the restaurant proved to be the best part of the date which says a lot about how bad the date was. I kept thinking I was on an episode of Punk’d with Borat and there were hidden cameras nearby. Sadly, that was not the case.

I hate dating in LA. I’m over it.


  1. i’m peeing in my pants about this story. it’s priceless … you’ll be telling this one for years!!!! for that, it may have been worth it.

  2. holy. eff.

    i mean, i guess we shouldn’t be too hard on the guy since he doesn’t know what a sin this is with YOU of all people ….

    but still.

    the buzzer. yessssssssssssssssssssssss.

    i’m with tito … peeing myself, and not just cuz of the infant. love you much.

  3. Picturing you, buzzer-in-hand, waiting FORTY minutes for a table at (and it really pains me to type it) The (God-awful) Cheesecake Factory… well, that’s about as wrong as things can possibly get. You’ve officially earned “the absolute best date in the history of dating” for your next venture out, and I am imploring the universe to give it to you!

  4. holy crap… that’s the funniest thing ever. I’m not a picky date at all (i’d say I’m damn right cheap), but even I find Cheesecake Factory suspect, reserved for high school or geriatric dates (which, considering the 17mph driving, makes this guy more like the latter). I just have to ask… what did you even order?

  5. Best (worst) dating story ever! I think it might be even funnier the second time.

    Sigh. Poor, poor Eliza. I don’t think there are enough glasses at Bar Covell to make up for this one.

  6. You have to be a total idiot to take a girl in LA to Cheesecake Factory on a date. I am appalled.

    You can do much, much better.

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