51/50: The Magical Adventures of a Single Life Read Online Free PDF

cry as I find myself telling Nic about Braden, about being single, about believing in something, but still feeling horribly, horribly alone. I tell Nic how no guys hit on me. How they will talk to the friend on my left and the friend on the right, but I get ignored. Nic narrows his eyes and leans forward. He pulls back the hair from behind my ear as though to picture me at my sexiest.
     
    “It because you’re too much, baby girl. For most guys, you’re just too much.”
     
    I understand what he means. I can be that girl, but only part of the time. Because as much as I can be the ballsy blonde with courage to spare, I can also be the scared little girl kneeling by her bed with snot on her face and an STD that smacks of damaged goods. And I am not quite sure which one is going to come out at any given moment.
     
    “I don’t know, Nic.” I look down because I am really afraid I might start sobbing right there.
     
    “Baby, it’s the chessboard. You know it. You can’t always see what’s happening six moves out, but you gotta have faith.”
     
    And I think Nic might be right. Though I might be sad that the one I want isn’t calling, I have to remember that I am no good at chess. I can’t tell you what it’s going to look like six moves out, and other than a cockroach and a guy named Nic, I can’t even say much by the way of God. Either way, I am interested in finding out.
     

5
     
    Date Five: Dreaming in the Land of CHA
     
    People always say what a big city Los Angeles is, but I think that’s a misnomer. To me, L.A. is a collection of seventeen small towns, all working quietly next to one another. Each town is its own universe, with its own language and culture and people. Years ago, I lived in the town of Hollywood. There, I went to cool parties, met celebrities, and made out with Quentin Tarantino, all between bumps in the bathroom.
     
    About six months before I moved home to Dallas to get sober, I left Hollywood and moved into another universe called Silver Lake. The West Coast Williamsburg had its fair share of kids with bangs and skinny jeans, but it also had an older group of liberal professionals with their Audi station wagons and later, in 2008, their ubiquitous Obama stickers. As much as streets like Sunset and Cahuenga and hotspots like the Standard and Chateau once called my name, I had begun to stay away from those places. I would disregard them as gross Hollywood hangouts infiltrated by the CHAs. Cheesy. Hollywood. Actors. If I could trademark that nickname I would. I have always felt that my mere invention of it should have destined me for greatness. I am still waiting.
     
    Needless to say, Hollywood is filled with CHAs. They all have skinny bodies and big heads and probably none of them were into high school theater. Those kids are geeks who actually read Arthur Miller and Tennessee Williams and know all the words to Mame . No, the CHAs were sluts and football players and small town playboys before they came out here to work in some shitty bar near Vine and pray for that big break as the stepson on some CBS sitcom that never makes it past Season One. They do shorts, and thank You Tube, and wait until the day that their hair-gelled good looks fade into the hopes of becoming a character actor. Or they go home and get real jobs. Maybe some parlay that bit role on King of Queens into some part on CSI . Most of them never make it past head shots. And God bless them.
     
    I expect that my date tonight will be such a CHA. From what I have been briefed, Doug is a forty-year-old bar manager who lives in the Valley, and already I can sense the failed attempt at the big time. Doug was sent to me by my friend Rachel. When I met Rachel, she was in the middle of a divorce, but now she is in love with someone else, and his best friend just happens to be Doug. I am used to this. In the time that I have been single, I have watched people meet, fall in love, marry, have children, divorce, fall in love again.