L.A. Affairs: My friends saw red flags. I opened my heart to him anyway
Living in Studio City, I try to stay close to home, but on a Wednesday in February, I found myself on the other end of the San Fernando Valley doing an errand. I serendipitously wandered into this out-of-the-way brewery. Being a home brewer for 10-plus years, I have a propensity to explore any local breweries wherever I am. I had visited this brewery before and remembered it had tasty Blonde, a style I brew often. Being a tall blond myself, it seemed apropos.
I sat at the bar and ordered a Blonde Witbier and found myself playing a game of bingo next to a handsome man in his late 50s. We chatted and talked about beer and laughed about the fact that we were playing bingo at our age. After a couple of hours and beers, I gave him my business card — old school, I know, but that’s how I am. What did I have to lose? I hadn’t dated in quite a few years, and being 61, I wasn’t getting any younger.
Luck was on my side that night. Not only did I win bingo twice, but in winning bingo, I won two free beers. Also, the handsome man I met texted me as soon as he got home that night. He was blown away that I had given him my business card and that I was even interested in him. (Sometimes it pays to be bold and follow your heart.)
I pointed to the empty chair across from me. ‘Would you like to share a table?’ That simple question would be the start of a new relationship.
We had lots of flirty texts over the next week and made plans to go to my favorite brewery close to my house. (I had made a collaboration beer with the brewery and am well-known there.) It would be our first date.
When I arrived at the brewery, I found him sitting at the bar. He was even more handsome than I remembered. That day I introduced him to cask ales and other beer styles he wouldn’t normally drink. We talked and canoodled and made out at the bar as if we were a couple of 17-year-olds under the bleachers.
We were so engrossed in each other and looked so adorable that people bought us beer. Heck, the bartender bought us a beer too! When we left, he walked me to my car, and of course, more making out ensued against the car. My heart was aflutter as I drove home.
We spent the next few weeks wooing each other, holding hands, making out and meeting each other’s friends. We also had candlelit dinners and hit up local breweries, sampling delicious beer and cultivating our mutual affinity for Old-Fashioneds.
We cheered each other on while bowling. We had Sunday brunches with mimosas. Also, in a total act of bravery, he took care of me when I was sick.
I even taught him how to brew beer. Best of all, I could tell him how I felt and vice versa without being afraid of saying too much. It was pure honest conversation and affection. He was so kind and present, and I couldn’t believe my luck.
Watching ‘The Bear’ brought up memories of my own tattooed chef. Our relationship was doomed from the start.
We were making plans with each other six months in advance — plans for traveling, camping and birthdays. Yes, I was in heaven with this guy! All the things I adored were wrapped up in this handsome man. But everything with him seemed too good to be true. I had always told myself not to think that way. After all, I deserve to be happy, and my mantra is: Be true to yourself and kind to people, and good things will come your way.
Sadly my luck ran out after six fun-filled weeks. I was the first person he’d gone out with since his tumultuous marriage ended. It made it impossible for him to fully commit and embrace the beauty of our situation.
He couldn’t get past the demons that plagued the ending of that last union. At that point, he hadn’t done the work to figure out the problems that existed in his past relationship.
I’m not the type of Angeleno who embraces being alone. Don’t get me wrong — I really like me. However, I am much more comfortable being part of a “we.”
As much as he wanted to start all over, he wasn’t ready. I guess that’s what I get for handing out my business card to a handsome stranger. I was excited that I met someone the old-fashioned way and not online, which seems to be the only way to meet people now.
To say the breakup knocked me over the head was an understatement. It broke my heart. I had opened up my heart, my life and my world for the first time in almost eight years. Alas, he ended the relationship just as it had started — with a text, which started out: “There is no easy way to say this. I cannot see you anymore ...”
In our case, there might have been arrested development going on. Maybe our relationship was too intense and too quick. My friends saw red flags, but they were genuinely happy for me. It had been so long since my last relationship. I even saw red flags, but I didn’t want to admit to them because I was having too much fun. I really looked past the flaws.
When I got around to opening the message, mainly to clear the notification from my phone, I was surprised. Then she asked me on a date. I had to say yes.
But you know what? I wouldn’t change a thing. It was a sexy whirlwind, and it felt sublime to be coupled, adored, wanted and wooed. I hadn’t made out in public in I don’t know how long. And to have a handsome and present man on your arm, a companion, who doesn’t want that?
My friends have rallied around me. They’ve been consoling and have offered encouraging words: “There’s someone else out there for you” and “You got over the first hurdle.” However, there were a few who said: “I told you so.” I have no regrets. I experienced that rare feeling of falling for someone. Maybe I’ll name my next brew No Regrets. It will be a Bittersweet Blonde.
The author is a graphic designer, brewer and beer aficionado. She lives in the Valley and will always be an OG Valley girl. She’s on Instagram: @ingramds
L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $300 for a published essay. Email [email protected]. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.
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