Going against the flow

Welcome to my attractive roster of social possibilities. I’ve got a gorgeous Brazilian restaurateur claiming he wants to take me out for mojitos; a hard-working Cuban Mexican community activist saying he wants to buy me lunch or dinner; and a cutie pie Jewish actor-waiter who is just dying to “get together.”

The problem is none of these men is getting past the talking stage. And it’s not for a lack of patience on my end. The one who hails from Rio de Janeiro has wanted to go on a second date with me since September -- as in September 2001. But the poor soul seems to suffer from selective amnesia; he can never remember to call or show up. The do-gooder who wears his heart on his sleeve is not so good at keeping track of time. Weeks and months elapse between phone calls, but it’s the thought that counts, right? And the third potential companion, well, his problem is more difficult to discern. He never got past the first call, and yet every time we run into each other, he’s so enthusiastic. Could he be rehearsing for a part?

If I were living anywhere but here, I’d be very worried. I’d wonder if there’s something off about the way I treat the opposite sex, or if my selection of men is poor. But this is Los Angeles, where flakiness reigns and non-commitment runs free. “Can’t we just go with the flow?” the 33-year-old Brazilian once asked, after I lit into him for standing me up twice. “Were you expecting a relationship?” he continued to bury himself. “A commitment?”

Wrong c-word, buddy! How about some not-so-common courtesy? It had been months since I’d given this frustrating nonsense any thought. Until my friend, Kim, called, serving up a familiar wallop. A neighbor who had left a nice note on her car, expressing interest in taking her out, had left the following message on her answering machine when she accepted his offer: “I’d like to go out, but let’s go with the flow, maybe do something spontaneous.... I’ll be kinda busy for the next month, but it would be fun, so maybe I’ll give you a call again soon.”

Por Dios! Yes, California is laid-back and we are all busy career people, but give me a break. I’ve spoken to enough male friends to know this dilemma is not gender-specific. Women too suffer from this disease that keeps them from wanting to be pinned down for a simple cup of coffee -- always saving themselves for more interesting or lucrative invitations.

Let’s face it: Dating is absurdly challenging all over this country. Untraditional gender roles are a constant source of insecurity and conflict. But after dating in four major cities over the last nine years, I find Los Angeles the worst place on earth to connect at any level. Forget romance. Even friendships are difficult to establish. The mere thought of intimacy makes sharing mojitos, a meal or even a moment more daunting than selling a screenplay.

Instead, we drive our fast cars to destinations where we are noticed but never acknowledged. Daily, we go with the flow. In a society built on illusion, we can easily fool ourselves into thinking that this lifestyle is very Zen. But blindly following currents as we insist on going with the flow might get us caught in riptides where we find ourselves in trouble and alone.

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Maria Elena Fernandez can be reached at maria.elena.fernandez@latimes.com.