His terms. Her terms.

I’ve been told several times that women have all the power.

Each time I almost choke up my drink from laughing so hard.

“Really? You think that we have the power?” 

Men usually stare back at me blankly, unsure if I’m being sarcastic.

So I explain, “Do you know how many relationships I’ve been in that were on his terms?”

Sure, when it comes to sex with a respectful man it is usually does begin on my terms. But the golden rule philosophy that I advocated so fervently two years ago is long, longover. Who wants to wait three weeks, three months, (heck even three days) for something that is so mutually wonderful?

What does it mean to be on his terms? You see each other when he is available. You have an exclusive relationship if he wants to. You stay mainly at his place. Yes, he may be kind enough to take you out to dinner or buy your movie tickets, but it’s still on his terms.

You’re here because he wants you here, when he’s ready for you to go, you go.

It’s pathetic. I don’t blame it on culture, it’s purely my own damn fault. But I have no interest in manipulation, I enjoy intimacy, I give in too easily. My best friend knows how to catch ‘em and keep ‘em with her sharp tongue and quick temper. She uses sex as punishment and reward. She likes to play games.

And so, my young mind inquires how does a woman have a relationship on equal terms without playing stupid love games. Is it a matter of whom you choose? How you choose? Where you choose? Does it depend on where you are in your life?

I’m going to ponder this question, experiment a bit, and get back to you about it later. Surely, there is a smart answer. I’m so tired of feeling like I have no control because I took control of what I really wanted.

Summer Lovebug.

They say that spring is the season for love.

That may be true for some, but here in Los Angeles it’s all about summer. Pool parties, dance festivals, weekend trips to Vegas, perfect weather — there’s a virus in the air that everyone is breathing.

It’s hard not to get wrapped up in this summer’s love feast with the tan bikini wearing blonds strutting around the poolside in heals. Finally, the tall actor hotties you lust for can take off their shirt to reveal six pack they work so hard on all year long. And yes, you can shove your bikini clad booty into their pelvis to the lyrics “oooh baby you want me? You can get this lap dance here for free…”

It’s summer time.

And even if you’re not into the hotel poolside culture, who can resist all the girls in crop tops and see-through sundresses strolling down Venice Blvd?

Fall in New York may be around the corner, but this summer there is no better place to be than LA.

…except Ibiza…..maybe….

Dating Guide

Here is an impressively accurate dating guide about dating culture in Los Angeles. It even schooled me on a few things… Check it out.

Le Bel Ami…

I have stopped processing when a man is beautiful…

Cognitively it no longer registers in my brain.

A month ago I met the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.  He stood there tall and confident, and with a self-assured gaze. His crisp, blue button down shirt that rolled that at the cuffs betrayed him as a foreigner to Los Angeles. Upon our meeting, his first words were to inform me that he’d studied economics at Harvard. I smiled and nodded, pretending not to be impressed.

It was a magical weekend. We spoke frankly about our lives and about the world. The liaison was as intellectual as it was romantic. I felt free to be my true self — or at least free to be the idealized version of who I’d like to be.

When the weekend was over, I found out the terrible truth…

He had a girlfriend.

“What is the point of meeting the PERFECT guy,” I later vented to my girlfriends, “A man who is tall, handsome, charming, attentive, well educated, and has a great job, but who is also a man who cheats?”

What is perfect anyway? Does it lie in those superficial qualities that we deem so important (beautiful, well off, ivy-league educated), or is it something internal that is more difficult to gauge?

Sometime has passed and I assure you that I am fully recovered with many other adventures to share, but the effect is that I can no longer register beautiful. It’s like I am color blind….I can see tall, I can see sexy, I can see charming and intelligent, but beautiful no longer registers. I just don’t see it. 

Not that it’s a bad thing! With dulled senses comes the ability to perceive hidden attributes invisible to the naked eye. I have begun to sense qualities like sincere and faithful — qualities that enrich my definition of perfect.

Spotlight: Bricks & Scones

For months I’ve been searching for the perfect café.

A couple grabbed my attention for a short while, but none have grabbed me as deeply as Bricks & Scones on Larchmont. It’s a block away from the crowded hustle and bustle of the Larchmont strip and offers a quiet, serene patio to read (or draft your script) without the pretentious scenestery vibe of – say – Urth Café or Starbucks. Their scones are deeelicous, they offer an impressive variety of unique teas (j’aime le thé
rose champagne), and best of all they serve Intelligentsia coffee. Could there be anything more wonderful?

Bricks & Scones

403 N Larchmont Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90004

Needy Girls…

At lunch yesterday I decided to give the guy that I was seeing a call.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Whacha doin?”

“Nothing,” He paused, he hated when I call for no reason.

“So…” the first words that formed in my head fell from my mouth, “I would prefer if we stream a Netflix movie instead of going out tonight. I’m kind of in the mood to stay in.”

“Ya…….”

“Should I come over at 9?”

“Ya, that works……”

There was an awkward pause.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Ya, I was kind of in the middle of a nap…”

“Oh my bad, just give me a call later.”

I hung up quickly, feeling annoyed by my incessant need to hear my lover’s voice.

A few moments later my best friend called me……the one who ended it with her guy a few weeks ago.

“Hey girl!” She exclaimed with unusual exuberance.

“Hey.”

“What are you up to?”

“Ah…drinking coffee on Larchmont,” my voice was rather monotone…

“So, I’ll be ready to go the museum around three. You can come in while I get ready and we can walk to the museum together!”

There was a pause.

“Can’t I just pick you up and we go?” I asked, not concealing my annoyance.

“Come on it’s such a beautiful day and it will be good to walk, plus I want you to check out the artwork that I’ve been working on.”

I tried hard to suppress my exasperated groan.

“Fine, I’ll be around at 3.” I said and hung up quickly.

Gosh, girls are so needy.

Midnight in Paris de Woody Allen

Okay, I’m about a month late on this review.

I was nervous to see this movie, fearful that Allen would elicit my fragile memories of Paris…

But Allen portrays the dazzling Parisian panorama through eyes of a foreigner: from an intimate distance, accessible French, and wrapped in an excentric fairy tale that travels through time. The art historian, the literary critic, and the film lover will love Allen’s unique tale of a Hollywood screen-writer (Owen Wilson) eager to find himself as a writer of prose.

The story speaks to the romantic who searches for love, life, and happiness in a world beyond and fails to see the magic in the present moment.

By the way, if your a nerdy art history lover like me, I suggest you pop open your old history books and look up Gertrude Stein, Henri Matisse, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec and (sexiest best of all) Salvador Dalí — just to appreciate the full cinematic experience.

Spotlight: Where to flirt in Hollywood

I’ve said it before, it’s hard flirting in Hollywood…

There are just too many Hollywood scenesters, wanna-be models, and actors. I’ll let you in on a secret about LA…..People find each other through networking, working at a job, and life experience. Not necessarily at scenesters venues. 

Still, if you are interested in a little harmless flirting then I recommend…

Tropicana at the Roosevelt Hotel

7000 Hollywood Blvd
Hollywood, CA 90028

On a sunny weekend afternoon, Tropicana is popping with hipsters, scenesters, and industry folk ready for a cocktail and a quick dip in the pool. Unchanged from its 1940s glam Hollywood layout, the place is said to be haunted by the ghosts of former hotel guests Marilyn Monroe and Montgomery Clift. Don’t worry about too much about that though, enjoy lounging by the poolside while you sip your drink and listen to great music. Don’t forget your bikini and high heals. Someone is bound to approach before the day is over…

Hotel Cafe

1623½ N. Cahuenga Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90028

Not feeling the scenester crowd? On a Friday night, check out a local favorite musician playing at the Hotel Cafe. That way you can hit on hot guys who like the same kind of music. You can never go wrong with, “How did you hear about the band?”

Drais

6250 Hollywood Blvd
12th Fl
Los Angeles, CA 90028

If you’re into scoring hot chicks at nightclubs, than I recommend Drais. There’s something about the layout of the place… Drais hosts top of the line cliental but the bar is just as accessible as the VIP area. Outside there is gorgeous patio and pool with a panoramic view of the city. It’s not easy to get in and it costs a pretty penny to book a table. Hit up The Colony on Cahuenga if you’re looking for something a bit more accessible.

This is my list and I will admit, I am a Hollywood Beezy at it’s worst. Let me know where you guys like to flirt in other parts of town…

Joyeux anniversaire.

I guess when you’ve lived in France for two years, 21 just doesn’t seem all that exciting.

With college coming to a close, being a kid is now officially over and real life becomes …real… So to keep me on track….

Things to do before 30

1. Teach history in either Africa or Europe.

2. Get a masters degree in psychology.

3. Perform social (sexual) research in France (en francais).

4. Figure out men and write a book about it.

5. Spend six months in silence at a Buddhist monastery in India.

6. Finish my documentary .

7. Learn conversational Spanish (sounds like 6 months in Argentina).

8. Manage to have a successful relationship with a Frenchman where we speak only French and there is lots of laughter.

Le Figaro.

I fell in love with Figaro a few months ago.

With it’s brief yet pertinent menu filled with delectable brunch and dinner options, cramped outdoor seating, slow service, tasty boulengerie goodies, it’s about as close as you can possibly get to a vrai French cafe. Waiters are dressed up in charming old fashioned garcon costumes. You’re likely to see locals heading home with a baguette under their arms (stupid hipsters). No need to fly to Paris to shoot an outdoor cafe scene, just head to Vermont.

Believe me, I’m not dispelling a secret. This place is an LA classic.

But if you’re looking for a Parisian lunch, head to Figaro.

In fact, I think I’ll go right now!

1802 North Vermont Avenue
Los Angeles, CA 90027
(323) 662-1587