Saturday, October 18, 2008
Project Being Fabulous on the Westside
I’ve done an unofficial survey. After scouring the many different neighborhood bars and nightclubs and talking to a bazillion different types of men during my tenure in this city, I’ve come to a conclusion.
I live in the wrong neighborhood.
Now, this isn’t to say I don’t like my neighborhood or that it doesn’t satisfy my needs, because it more than does. I love many aspects of where I live--my great neighbors, its close proximity to my office, and the adorable little market across the street, just to name a few.
However there is a definitive lack of one necessary commodity.
No, I don’t mean there are no men in the area. I mean there are very few men in whom I’d even consider being interested. In fact, the very thing I’ve often found myself loving about my neighborhood—the artistic vibe, fueled by the multitude of creative, struggling, young-artist types—is the thing that seems to have driven away the exact breed of fellows I like.
Not to sound narcissistic, but when in a romantic entanglement, I enjoy being the creative one. I tend to be attracted to the tie-wearing, business-minded, mathematically inclined type who is utterly amazed at my knowledge of the differences between independent and dependent clauses. Or ‘who’ and ‘whom,’ for that matter.
My neighborhood is totally and completely congested with starving-artist types, many who are far too young for me (you know, like anywhere within three years of my own age) and far too immature (like still eating Top Ramen with ketchup) and far too, well, is there a more PC word for “douchebaggish”? And let me tell you, the douchebaggishness is the real deal-breaker, my friends.
The results of my aforementioned unofficial survey have shown the Westside is heavily populated by tie-wearing, business-minded, mathematically inclined, 27-to-33-year-old, mature, nondouchebaggish men. And it is based on these results that I have decided to launch my new initiative: Project Being Fabulous on the Westside.
A number of my good friends have been trying to win me over to the west for quite some time now. “The Westside is the best side,” they chant in unison. I’m starting to be swayed. Not only has the Westside proven to be somewhat of a mini-vacay each time I visit, but these new developments provide an additional allure.