// January 4th, 2010 // 2 Comments » // I Love LA.
We’re all a little crazy here in Los Angeles. I’m open minded but there are some things I don’t do, especially if I haven’t showered. Or brushed my teeth. Kelly I remember pretty clearly because she wanted to makeout with me. We’d worked together briefly on a campaign promoting a musician. Kelly had wild hair, cushy lips and a babydoll-playboy-bunny voice and was chattily approachable. I didn’t know many people in Los Angeles at the time.
“Bel, can I come over? Please? My neighbor is acting really weird and I’m freaked out. I’m all by myself.” Kelly sounded like she’d been crying. “Yeah, of course. Are you ok?” I hung up the phone. As a girl living alone in my studio apartment in Los Angeles, I myself was a little freaked out about being alone at night and had bought a $10 set of 3 alarms from Target and put them on my windows and doors. An alarm which I placed on silent when I opened the door to let Kelly in. “Thank you, Bel. I’m so happy to be here.” I set up a blanket and pillow on the floor and let her have my bed. We chatted in the dark, slumber party-like. Girl talk, girl talk. “Yes, I kissed a girl. In college.” I told Kelly. The age-old topic had eventually popped up. I didn’t think it was a big deal. We talked each other to sleep.
“Bel, I need a ride! Can you please pick me up? I’m staying at a hotel on Beverly.” Again, Kelly on the phone, an early morning days later. “Why are you staying at a hotel?” I asked. “Because I had to leave my apartment. I didn’t feel safe.” I got dressed as fast as I could, throwing on my hiking pants from the day before and an old t-shirt, no time for frivolous girl-prep or makeup. I arrived at Kelly’s hotel which happened to be across from Swingers, the well-known Los Angeles eatery. Kelly was in a nice room her suitcases of stuff strewn haphazardly across the bed and dresser. She didn’t seem ready to go anywhere. “Kelly, let’s go.” I finally said. Kelly gave a long pause. “Oh, the other night got me thinking of how it would be to kiss you. I’ve been thinking about it so that’s why I had you come over.”
Who springs that on their friend? The trickery alone caught me off guard. Kelly had conned me into rushing out of my place at 9 in the morning with zero notice, to makeout?! Even guys know to create a romantic setting, watch a sunset, have some sort of buildup, figurative lubricant. This however, was a retarded way for her to go about things. It was a no-go. “Kelly, I’m going to go home.”
“Well let’s do breakfast then. I’ll buy.” I looked at her brand new Gucci bag. “Okay, then!” I wasn’t about to turn down Swingers food. We crossed the street, sat down at the bar and I ordered scrambled eggs. Kelly nudged me and pointed to some fancy car then to a white-haired guy a few seats down. “Bel, he must be rich! I saw him get out of that car.” “Kelly, you’re TWENTY years old!” I said. “Yeah, but he’s rich!” Kelly batted her eyelashes. “Rich!” Yes, run of the mill Los Angeles stuff indeed. My eggs were delicious, btw.
