I’m on my way home when a man, who is starting to gray and is very handsome, stops me. “Excuse me,” he says. “You’re beautiful.” I’m not hallucinating. The fairy tale has come true; my prince has arrived.
It's the 12-year-old in me that says thank you. It's also the current me, with all the weight of my 49 years, that gives him my number and tells him to text me by Wednesday so we can have dinner on Friday.
Then I tell everyone: my coworkers, the baker at La Monarca Bakery, the barista at the Starbucks at Occidental, the fruit vendor on the corner of Virgil and West 3rd, and even the ahjussi in Koreatown who makes my Brussels sprouts for lunch.
On Wednesday, while waiting in line at Apollonia Pizzeria, I realize that I'm unlikely to have dinner on Friday.
But around 8pm that night, I get a text. Is it okay for you to have dinner at Sushi Gen? Yes. Yes? Yes!
We sit on top of the planters outside the restaurant while we wait for a table. The conversation is stilted, so I ask him to tell me about his life and I tell him about my job. I love my job, but I’m worried. My boss just left the company, and what’s an executive assistant without an executive to help him? Prince Charming snorts and says I’m lucky. He’s looking for a full-time job. His snort surprises me too much to respond.
He says he's sure I'm very good at my job. His best friend's wife does something similar. She's a bitch. He realizes I'm not.
I think about what it is to be a shrew and what makes a woman a shrew. We are called to the table before I have a chance to discuss the implications.
Prince Charming starts telling his life story right after we sit down. I don’t tell him anything about myself because he never asks and because he never stops talking. I’ve read enough Jane Austen to know that his speech is the context for “A Very Important Statement I Need to Hear.” His big announcement is this: He’s been working part-time as a driver and at a car dealership since the early 2000s while he waits for his big break. Earlier this year, he realized that show business wasn’t for him. Now it’s time to settle down.
Prince Charming speaks his truth with the same gravity Kevin Costner used to display when he waxed lyrical about the cowboy life on “Yellowstone,” a show Costner claimed he loved, but not enough to stay on. Prince Charming is sincere. It’s too bad I have a hard time keeping a straight face.
I understand that we all have aspirations. I once wanted to be a teacher. When that fell through and after my first marriage ended, I wanted to be happy and have a job with benefits that covered my ADHD medications and antidepressants. After my second marriage, I also wanted to feel safe, not be hurt, and never again be the victim of anyone's rage attacks.
I don't tell him this, and it doesn't matter, because if I had the chance, I'd rather talk about my current life. I spend summer at the Hollywood Bowl. Winter and fall are for the L.A. Philharmonic, the L.A. Opera, and Christmas dinners with friends. Many evenings are spent happily lounging at home. If I could, I'd like to tell him (and anyone else who cares) that my life is as good as ever. Care to join me?
But my date continues to dominate the conversation throughout the dinner and I never talk about my past or my current life. I don't care because the eel is delicious and the cucumber salad is perfect.
I’m silently pondering my options if I get fired when I notice him staring at me. I lost track of the conversation a while ago, so I ask, “Do you travel a lot?”
My question gives him the opportunity to talk about his last trip to Vietnam. He admits that he found it difficult to remain silent while his uncle ordered people around because he had more money than them. He found it difficult to keep his mouth shut and show proper respect to his elders, especially because he found their behaviour abhorrent.
I'm curious. I, too, have had to negotiate cultural and family expectations. I was once married to a man who sometimes hit me when he was in a bad mood. In the month after I separated, my sister, someone I considered my best friend, invited him to dinner every day, even though she knew what he'd done. Our relationship was forever frayed the day he kicked me out of his house when I went to pick up his son from Disneyland.
I understand how difficult it is to negotiate family relationships and expectations, but I don't tell him that either. When he pays for dinner, he leaves a generous tip for the waiters. I'm impressed. I know, my standards are low.
There's a tea shop across the parking lot. As we sip some matcha, he says that right now all he wants is a paying job and to feel good about what he does. I get it. The year after my marriage ended, I made a list of things I needed to do to get myself back, to get my life back. The main goal, to feel good about myself again, took me about 10 years. Right now, I really want that for him.
Almost a month later, I got another text from him asking me out. I told him the truth: I couldn’t because I was volunteering at StokerCon, the horror literary convention.
But I wish I had written something different to him. At 49, I have already made my fairytale life a reality. With all my heart, I hope he can create the life he wants for himself, too. He deserves to have his dream come true. Everyone does. I should have said this.
The author is looking for a job and getting allergy shots so she can one day become a spinster with two cats. She lives in Pasadena. She's on Instagram: @aledmattoni
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