The bar was almost full when I entered the restaurant. The hostess greeted me with a smile, a perfect slicked back ponytail, and a red lip to complete her look. When she asked if I needed a table, I saw a man at the bar wearing a light red Patagonia puffer jacket with two open seats on either side. I also noticed a napkin on his plate indicating that he was finished. I told the hostess that she thought she had found a place.
I was with my friend and neighbor, Ashley, for drinks. Her brother had just arrived from Miami for the holidays, and R + D Kitchen (nicknamed Rich + Divorced) was one of our favorite places to grab a bite to eat and enjoy a group of adults.
“Is this seat taken?” I asked.
“No, I'm just finishing up,” the man said.
“Oh thank you very much. I'm meeting some friends here and you know how difficult it is to get three seats together,” I said a little nervously.
He laughed and looked at my bag, which I had hung under the bar with a wrapped gift sticking out. “Yes. Is this a gift for one of your friends?” he asked.
“It is,” I said with a smile.
“What is it?”
“It's so cheesy. You know that movie 'National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation'?'”
He nodded.
“Well, it's a sweatshirt that says 'It's a Beaut Clark.' There were a lot of great ones, like 'Sh-er was full'. That movie has great lines.”
Then I immediately regretted saying bad words because I suddenly realized how attractive he was. He seemed fit and tall even though he was sitting down. He had a warm smile and a shaved head. He seemed to be wearing cream-colored sweatpants, which perfectly completed his casual look.
There was also a wit about him that piqued my interest, and sitting there, I felt so comfortable and magnetic, as if we had laughed together before.
He then gave me a surprised look because I had just cursed, but he also seemed like he was intrigued enough to chat further.
“How did you find this gift?” she asked with a smile.
I laughed and said, “Oh, they served it to me on Instagram.”
We both laugh.
Then he signed his check, gathered his things, told me to have a happy vacation, and left the bar.
“But wait,” he wanted to say.
A few minutes later my friends arrived and we ended up finding a spot at the other end of the bar by the fireplace. My friends ordered wine and I ordered an Aperol spritz. We browsed the menu and caught up a bit.
I started a conversation with the bartender.
“Hey, you know this place is called Rich + Divorced, right?” I said. “You guys should do some kind of introduction to dating here. It would be very fun. …I have no idea how you would do it, but did you see that guy I was talking to on the other end of the line? As if it had been a perfect combination! Somehow you could send him a message through an app or the waiter could play matchmaker. Is he a regular?
I was in full investigation mode with the waiter, wanting to know more about the handsome man.
“He's definitely a regular,” he said. “I see him maybe once a month or two, but I don't work that often. So that more can come.”
“Interesting. I know this is completely inappropriate and please tell me if you can't do it or if you feel uncomfortable,” I said. “But could you go through the credit card receipts and see if maybe you can find a name? I would be very thankful”.
We look at each other. “And if not, don't worry,” I said. “I know it's probably against protocol and you could get in trouble. And I wouldn't want that. But I just have to ask.”
He laughed, grabbed the receipts and started flipping through them.
“Oh thank you very much!” I said.
“Hey, here it is,” the waiter said. “I'm so sorry. He paid with Apple Pay, so there is no trace of his name on the invoice.”
Ten minutes later, I felt a tap on my shoulder and it was the pretty boy again. He smiled and said “Merry Christmas.” He then handed me a card still sealed in the Paper Source plastic envelope.
The front said “Sh-er's Full” and the card had a simple illustration of that scene from the movie.
I had no idea what to say. He smiled again and left. I don't remember exactly what happened because I was paralyzed by surprise.
My friend Ashley said Mr. Handsome must have written his name or number inside. “Open it!” she said.
She took the card from my hand. It was sealed. I took it off and opened it. It was blank. There was nothing inside. “Should I run after him?” I said.
“Yeah!” Ashley said.
I got up from the bar and ran.
But everything was silent. I looked both ways, up and down the street. I didn't see it anywhere.
I went back inside the restaurant and chalked it up to a strange Christmas fluke. But just in case it didn't happen that way, I left my number with the bartender and the rest up to fate.
The author is a dog mom and executive producer living in Los Angeles. She is on Instagram: @cutting cuts
Los Angeles Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the Los Angeles area, and we want to hear your true story. We paid $400 for a published essay. Email [email protected]. You can find shipping guidelines. here. You can find previous columns. here.
