One of my tragically un-LA traits is my penchant for walking. Call me crazy, but I would rather spend twenty minutes out in the open air than fifteen in a car, fighting traffic, searching fruitlessly for parking, and spending half my rent on valet.
This can make things a little awkward after a first date.
Gentlemen generally attempt to insist upon walking me home. Sure, the stroll to my apartment is lovely, but their lonely hike back seems a tad cruel – especially after a somewhat recent occasion when one such manner-mindful lad apparently got a little lost mid-return. Oops.
Then there’s the sort of uncomfortable, I-swear-I’m-not-a-rapist-let-me-drive-you-backexchange. Cue: Louis C.K. monologue on the stupidity of women in this sort of situation. I usually accept. This one at least usually goes pretty smoothly from this point on.
Usually. Last week, things got a little…lumpy:
“Oh, here, let me go give him your valet ticket.”
“Oh, I actually just walked over.”
“Oh, well in that case, may I walk you back?”
(There were a lot of oh’s.)
“You don’t have to do that – it’s not really that close. Like, it’s close for a one-way meander, but I would feel bad making you solo-trek it back.”
(laughs) “Well, can I drive you? I mean, if you – or if you, well, if you would like?”
(I laugh(s)) “Sure, thanks. I mean, as long as you’re not going to like, rape and murder me along the way.”
Stilted laughter. Welp.
En route, we discuss my preference for walking slash how I like to take that oxygen-infused time as an opportunity to reply to emails/catch up on calls - scintillating convo material, I know. He drops me off. I safely enter my home. Easy, breezy, beautiful, call me a cover girl, right?
Not exactly. Two minutes later, this text téte-a-téte occurs:
“I get it now. That was where you lived! I thought you intentionally parked 0.8 miles away so u could walk and right (sic) emails!! Ha. That being ur apt makes much more sense!”
“Haha! You thought I was just some weirdo who parked blocks away? That’s kind of amazing.” (Probably should’ve gone with a different adjective here.)
“I wouldn’t say weirdo. I would say oddball! Huge difference! An oddball does things differently but usually in an interesting way…”
Sooo…yes? Yes. Awesome. I would just like to note that this is the second time in a single month a potential new suitor has tagged me as interesting. I’m gonna go ahead and overthink that.
Editor’s Note: The author has chosen to skip right past the oddball bit for reasons of sanity maintenance. That’s all.