Lies and Bullshit

So, last weekend, I was hanging out near the pool when she came over. Embarrassingly enough, I had just farted, and was blowing it away (it turned out not to be an issue). She told me she was curious about the party going on outside (with a pool and barbeque area, our courtyard is popular), and we ended up in an interesting conversation, partly about my name and its origins (Damon, as I've understood came from Damocles, though there are other historical Damons, while Houx is a french name that means holly), and dancing (which... me). Talking about Damocles, we joked about fighting lions, and then talked about the mountain lions that reside above us in the Beachwood canyon. She said I should visit her if I ever go to Belgium, and she gave me her email address. I was amused, and googling her name showed me that she was a real deal model. I think you can call her a supermodel, she's done some famous campaigns, and dated some famous people. When she responded to my first email (and with a little bit of negative "are you going to do anything about it" reinforcement from a friend) and with her leaving town shortly I asked her out for a drink or maybe some dancing before she left town. A flurry of emails were exchanged. Flirty, fun. She wanted to get together on a Wednesday night, and I needed to see if I could get off of work. It took until Monday, but I was able to get the time off.

I was excited but also, I don't know her world, and I have never gone out with a model before. The tone suggested it was a date, but as a modern man I expect nothing as a given. And so on Wednesday night, after basically spending two days waiting around for it to happen (like a child at Christmas) we went to an art presentation hosted by Sothebys. Beforehand I gave her my number and essentially dared her to call me, and so when she called it made me smitten as it proved we aren't too modern, that we both appreciate the more connected approach. Using a phone these days feels like a throwback, and though it was a little awkward (I mostly talk on the phone with my mom and English is not her first language, which is easier to deal with in person), it was exciting. On the drive over she asked if I was married or engaged. I told her no. She too was not, though has been engaged (it turns out she had been married). At Sotheby's, she knew the speaker and a couple of the people there. I knew no one. We ended up talking about the fashion choices of the people around us. Older men were more inclined to wear suits, younger men were comfortable in jeans and t-shirts. I split the difference and wore a button up and jeans.

I found the presentation fascinating, because it seems the art world suffered recently in similar ways to the rest of the entertainment industry, and the speaker was a hustler who was working outside the normal channels and had used "the network" (Facebook, Instagram, Twitter) to create interested buyers. What he did was find a laser focus of those interested in art, but what was also talked about was how an artist could explode over three years. It reminded me of how so many indie directors with barely a credit to their name were being sucked up into the franchise blockbuster complex. He also talked about how so many art critics don't know what they're talking about, which is resonant when you realize that many music critics don't understand chord progression, and film critics aren't always able to analyze technique in a useful way (granted, with many of these elements there is the excuse of writing for the lay-person, but still).

Meeting some of the people who were friends with her, I was able to engage them. As a interviewer, and as a human being I find it easy to get excited about things that other people are excited about, and even in a situation like this, I was able to find ways in, which felt good. I was in mode and not out of my depths.

But as I tried to put on a good face, there's the thoughts going on: as an outsider, what happens if I have to face a possible Lothario? Am I impressing my date? What is "this" (in terms of what we are doing)? What does she think of me? Is sex out of the question or am I a squirrel - a distraction meant to entertain her before she leaves? Does she still like me the more time she spends with me? Are things going to progress later? Am I doing a good job of applying the right balance of interest and cool? What the fuck am I doing here? And what is Emily Ratajkowski doing here? Hey, that's Emily Ratajkowski! But, whatever, I'm still with the most attractive woman here!

As the event was on Sunset, she wanted to get a drink afterwards. Someone told us about Everleigh's, and mentioned that they had oysters. The man who gave this advice (after she said she wanted oysters) said he thought we'd have "fun" in that suggested he was thinking what I was: That many consider oysters an aphrodisiac. No pressure.

We went to Everleigh, and went to the bar in back. We looked over the menu, and she had a champagne with bitters, and I went with a Singapore Sling. I don't think I'd had one before, and I ordered it because of Tom Waits' song "Shore Leave"


It's a very fruity drink, which masks how strong it is, and we talked about its likely origin. As English is her second (or possibly seventh) language, the conversation was lively but awkward, and sometimes I would have to stop to define a word. Slurping oysters, and then moving on to sharing a Gin Fizz, we left the bar and I saw a game of Connect Four, and suggested we play it. She said she'd need a drink, and she then thought getting another drink would be a bad idea, but was conflicted. I didn't push. I try not to. But I had that moment where I thought that maybe pushing might lead to a sexual conclusion. Still, we left. We then headed to the car, which - as an American - made me feel like I should make a move there. There's something so hot about making out in a car for the first time, or maybe it's just Pavlovian for me at this point.

I took her home. She is leaving. Her apartment is empty save for a bed and a couch she's not taking. I'm a fan of Louis C.K.'s show LOUIE and I felt like with her being a foreigner leaving town and her being a model I was living the recent season of his show, but I was going to try my damnedest not to replicate his mistakes. That said, I don't like talking about other people who aren't here, or aren't going to present their side of things, so I don't want to talk about anything intimate. I can say that as she knew she was leaving momentarily, it was what it was in that it had a stone cold end date. I convinced her to go out dancing the next night. She was down. But she also made it evident that she would be leaving soon, possibly the next day.

Thursday I ended up sending her the wikipedia page on the creation of the Singapore Sling, and we went back and forth for a bit. She was making dinner and invited me over. I had eaten, but I had a little of her soup. She is a model, and probably weighs a little over a hundred pounds. She told me she could lose weight, and I had no idea how. My arms are as big as her legs. But I could see how she kept a small figure when here Minestrone soup was essentially cut up carrots and celery with a light vegetable broth, and some pepper. We hung out at her place and then at mine - where she met my cat - and then went back to her place. She wasn't feeling great and was worried she might come down with something, and so dancing was skipped and she told me she was likely to leave for Belgium the next day. Oh well. It was over.

But then Friday she told me she her flight wasn't until Wednesday, though we didn't see each other that day. Knowing she'd be around I asked to go out dancing on Saturday, which she was down with. We ended up talking on the phone quite a bit, actually. I still get a little nervous talking to a girl on the phone. Knowing our plans I got my hair cut by a lovely Armenian girl who I told that I was in a relationship with a expiration date. She told me to ignore it and that it might not actually exist.

As the night progressed she showed up at my place early, before I was even dressed. Such is the possible drawbacks of dating someone who lives in your complex. She came by and wanted to go to the Fed Ex office on Vine. My sense of LA is such that I don't know street names as well as I should so it took us until we got on the road to figure out where I was going. It was one of those things where I should have known instantly. But the traffic on the 101 suggested I take street routes to go out. And so we took the short/long way on Sunset to the The Short Stop.

I love The Short Stop, I've been going there for years, and was happy that the people at the door knew me, but they had to card her. We got there around 10:30, and things weren't happening yet, but as I know I can take over a floor, I was just waiting for the right song. The lady bartender knew me so a number of my drinks were free, but my date wanted to drink a good scotch, and I (partly hoping booze would make her more amenable to sex) let the bartender pick the whiskey she was drinking, which was strong. The music was techno-y, with familiar drops. Erotic City came on, I tried to make the most of it.

One never wants to make a woman so drunk she doesn't know what she's doing, but also she's an adult, and we both knew that things could happen, and maybe drinking might help that. And so we danced, and I drank beer while she drank whiskey, which by the second drink she was slopping a little on the dance floor. After the third drink, and after she spent some time in the bathroom (which didn't slow her down as I feared) we switched to beer - though someone stole her drink outright so we shared our fourth drink. We ended up closing the bar down as she had her fifth drink, but we had had been dancing and drinking since 10:30. I was mostly sober, even after three and a half drinks, and she regained her composure at some point. But, as a dancer, to go for three and some hours, even with drink breaks, wow. I was impressed with her. That takes some skills, on top of which she could move. Of late I'm more likely to wrap things up by 12:30 or 1 if I'm out, mostly because that's when the floor gets gross. But when you're locked in to someone, the main thing was just maneuvering around the other people.

On that note, some dude asked me to cut in at one point during the night. I asked him to speak to my dancing partner. I spent much of the night worried that I might have to play deflector, but he was the only incident. And as I could lay no claim, I felt it was up to her, but I also would rather she rejected the idea outright. She brushed him off, and when he asked me I feigned inaudibility. I found it to  be one of the most sublime moments of my life - this lovely lady isn't even going to pretend he's in the conversation. Eventually he tried dancing with her, and she gave him a a couple bars from a song, but it passed, and I am well versed in what she did. It's the pass of "Okay, you got your moment, now leave me alone." There I was, on a dance floor with a model (which automatically made me defensive), and some dude acting out of passivity, was my worst threat. I got this. I can handle that.

So, we closed down the bar. And we went home. And she told me she planned to get out surfing at 7:30 the next day...

I was surprised that she did make it out, but flags were out warning against surfing because of some boating thing. Sunday was a down day for us and I was still trying to figure out what we were doing. I knew she was leaving Wednesday, but also that we had plans to watch the World Cup game of USA vs. Belgium, so I knew I would see her again. I spent Sunday going from basking in our evening to wondering how much time we had left together. I was a distracted mess, that would stop worrying and become amused with myself. I didn't see her again until Monday, when she invited me to join her in the jacuzzi (she texted that she wanted me to join her in the bubble bath, which I though might be the jacuzzi, but was excited with the possibility she meant something else). As she was getting rid of what little she had left of her possessions she kept offering me things. I took some items to make my room look nicer but also partly to remind myself of the time we spent together. Hey, remember that time you dated a supermodel? Look right.

As she is from Belgium, we went out on the Tuesday before she left to watch the World Cup. We went to a bar in Hollywood, and we were the only ones there championing the eventual winners. The game was a draw for the first part, but then in the overtime the Belgium team (which seemed to have an offensive advantage) scored, and the scored again. We drank and celebrated, and because she is small and cute no one gave her too much shit, though as I went to the bathroom, someone asked if I was with the Belgium girl (thankfully, he didn't give me too much crap). But it was an amazing afternoon, followed by a lunch and then more time at her place.

She told me that she had to get pictures taken as she was more tan than she had ever been before. so I volunteered to take her picture. Look, I am a movie nerd, which makes me a lot of things, and one of them is a voyeur. And when she asked me to take her picture repeatedly, I couldn't be more overjoyed. And here's the thing about models, though there are some pictures that I'd delete: HOLY SHIT. Photogenic people are photogenic. Throughout our relationship, considering I knew there was an expiration date, I would have moments of nostalgia that happened as things were happening. I would note "oh yeah, I'm totally going to remember this gesture, this flirt, this look, this line, this touch, this feeling." It's weird, but our relationship was weird. I have no idea why me sitting outside on a Sunday afternoon might lead to our week and a half relationship, if it was good for her as it was for me. But there it is and so it goes.

That night I sent her an email saying that I missed her already even though she hadn't left. and she sent me an email back saying "It ain't over til it's over" so I went downstairs and knocked on her window. I had had a couple so I was tenuous, and she didn't answer. Something about the events seemed to call for romantic gestures, but also I don't like being intrusive, so I didn't push as it was late.

Wednesday I didn't know if I'd see her, and so I said I'd get lunch with a friend, but then she texted if I wanted tea. I said yes, and so I hung around her apartment. By then it was harder to find things to chat about, it was just about staying with each other a little longer. I thought my friend was coming by to pick me up, but they thought I was coming over, so I went back to spend time with her, and help her take care of the last of it. Then I ran an errand and she came over to say goodbye. I then helped her load her luggage into her taxi. We said goodbye three times today. When I said I already missed her, I felt like I was more in the passenger seat, but the fact that she came to say goodbye before she left made it feel mutual. Something happened. Something was shared. And whether it continues or ends, it seems to have been an important connection for both of us.

Will I see her again? I will go to Europe in the next year to see my brother, and she seems amenable to me visiting her (it's only a two hour train ride from London). Is it possible we will strike up a flirty email exchange over the next couple of months and it goes from there? Probably not, but also that's exactly the sort of thing where when there's no pressure, I might be the most charming minutes of her days. I know that the passage of time and lack of interpersonal activity makes this the longest of shots. But as an outsider to her life and world, that may be an advantage. But I also know that the truth is more likely I will probably forget, and so will she. Or that after a couple of pleasant but perhaps more forced cute email exchanges there will be nothing left because of the lack of proximity. 
She is a real deal model, which is why I'm not going to write about this and advertise it (on top of which if you googled her name, she's not exactly always wearing clothes).

But I'm not writing this to brag, instead I can't help but note a bizarre chapter in my life - or at least a footnote - that amused me and spoke to one of the weirder "how did I get here" moments of my life. On some level, this is probably best appreciated by someone who doesn't know me. But if I told you who it was, you might Google her and that feels like a violation of her privacy, and if I put her name here she might find it inappropriate (and probably rightly so) if she ever stumbled across it.

And I don't know if she was trolling for a last minute thing, or whatever. But I do know that someone the world classifies as quote attractive unquote wanted to spend time with me. And that feels pretty fucking good on a very base level. But knowing that (not that I wasn't interested before), that she was a model made this something where I may have started pursuing it partly because I knew it was a story to tell as much as it was me working against the "probably not" I said to a friend who asked "are you going to try and fuck her?" Would I have given her as much attention if it wasn't a story to tell, and knowing that it would never be much more than a week of interactions? Didn't I set myself up for this arc of activities? Did I fall for her, did she fall for me, or were we both in love with the idea of something that was bound to end? And if I tell people that I dated a model doesn't that make me a cocksucker even though it happened?

All I know is that I treasure our time together. And that I smell her on my clothes right now. And I'm filled with a melancholic joy. Clementine said to Joel "Enjoy it."  I did.