He: After my 12-year relationship ended in divorce, I thought I’d never find another long-term romance. I didn’t have a clue how to meet women in the 21st century. When a friend suggested online dating, I was highly skeptical, but I took right to it — and almost overdosed. Match. OkCupid. Tinder. I met all kinds of Los Angeles women — a ballerina-turned-raging alcoholic, a good friend’s nanny and an endless stream of bitter divorcees.
She: After a college romance that ended after seven years, I spent my 30s jumping from one bad fit to another. One night, I found myself standing in the “family planning” aisle at a drug store on LaBrea, and realized I wanted to have a child but not with the man I was seeing at the time. Within days, I broke up with him and was in a clinic freezing my eggs. My fertility doctor optimistically informed me that most patients meet their guy within six months of freezing their eggs, and urged me to try online dating. I didn’t think I was ready, but I followed doctor’s orders and signed up for Tinder.
He: When I matched with Jamie, I went with my go-to opening line: “A woman who likes ________, _________ and __________? Where do I sign up? Oh right — here. So I guess this is me signing up.” All I had to do was fill in the blanks based on what a woman revealed in her profile, and they always responded.
She: Josh opened with what was clearly a line, but it made me laugh. I thought, “Why not?”
He: I couldn’t tell from our texts if we were a match, but I thought we could have fun (translation: at least hook up). I asked her out, and she agreed. I usually offered to drive to my dates, but when she offered to come to Brentwood, I gladly accepted. I suggested Bru Haus on Wilshire — she didn’t need to know it was only a block from where I lived. I could easily walk over and back — with her if things went well.
She: The traffic from my apartment in Beverly Hills was terrible, so I had a lot of time to second guess going on a date with some jerk who was making me commute across town to see him. I only offered to seem polite, never dreaming he’d take me up on it. Hitting gridlock by the 405, I strongly considered turning around. When my best friend called to wish me luck, I told her I’d rather poke my eye out with a hot fork than go on this date. She convinced me to at least meet him for one drink.
He: I took a leisurely stroll over to Bru Haus five minutes before our meeting time, and scored us two seats at the bar. When she texted to say she’d be late, I was pretty annoyed.
She: Pulling up at the valet, I saw the crowded bar. It looked vaguely familiar, but I knew I’d never been inside — it was too collegiate for me. As I hurried in, I caught a glimpse across the street — Oh my God, the fertility clinic where I just froze my eggs! I caught my breath and headed inside, hoping he’d stand me up. But Josh popped out of the crowd, waving to me with what I could swear were “jazz hands.”
He: They were definitely not jazz hands.
She: My mood suddenly brightened. He was sweet and fun, and he made me laugh.
He: When she finally showed up, she looked fantastic. She was cool, and quick to laugh at my jokes. Drinks turned into dinner. The conversation flowed — from food, to family, to film. Then suddenly, Jamie announced, “Two weeks ago, I froze my eggs in that clinic across the street.”
She: I don’t know why, but I knew he’d understand. And it was hilarious. I actually felt it would be weirder if I didn’t tell him.
He: It didn’t bother me. It was hilarious. What are the odds? And it was cool she’d reveal that to me. She was honest and unafraid to be vulnerable — in a town where that’s rare.
She: We shared our first kiss in front of the bartender. Josh charmed the hell out of me, even while trying to convince me to go home with him.
He: We made out at the valet stand, and she made the unusual move of questioning whether I’d ask her out again. I liked that.
Us: That was more than three years ago. Since then, there have been hikes with our dogs at Runyon Canyon, outdoor movies, farmers markets and game nights. Last year, we moved into a townhouse in West Los Angeles with beautiful views of the city from downtown to the beach.
And while our freezer may be stocked with eggs, for now we plan to make a baby the old-fashioned way.
She: Thanks, jazz hands!
He: Again, to be clear, I have never done jazz hands.
L.A. Affairs chronicles the current dating scene in and around Los Angeles. If you have comments or a true story to tell, email us at LAAffairs@latimes.com.
MORE L.A. LOVE STORIES …