When you date someone from Santa Barbara (and I mean, really from Santa Barbara), you’ve got to prepare yourself to face your partner’s former relationships at any given moment. Especially, if said person has a reputation of women throwing themselves at his feet.
The concept of “six degrees of separation” shrinks down to about one or two in our town, and it can be a test to your annoyance threshold and giant eye-rolls may ensue. The question will arise: “Can I handle it?” The past is the past for a reason, you have to remind yourself, but it doesn’t make a mental picture of your current beau being intimate with another lady go away so easily.
For example, I took a Jason (the hot guy I asked to lunch) to the Death Cab for Cutie show. Understanding this town is basically the large version of Melrose Place (where everybody knows one another and possibly what they look like naked), I was ready for whatever and whoever came our way. Imagine my surprise when not one person came around as we made our way through the venue. Awkward moments avoided. I gave myself the what-am-I-so-worried-about head shake and made way to the seats.
From time to time, I get the privilege of taking pictures along with the professional photographers in front of the stage and, for this show, I had the magic ticket. As the concert was about to start, I bid farewell to my date, grabbed my photo pass, and headed to the photo pit.
The “pit” is pretty awesome. You trade a few hey-how’s-it-goings with you photographer friends then you gear up. As I was toying with the camera, I notice a new face. A cute blonde girl about my age, which is a nice surprise considering the pit is usually me and a bunch of dudes. More girl power is always welcome. I introduce myself and we chat for a moment.
“Hi, I’m Elizabeth. Who do you shoot for?”
“Hey, I’m Ida. I shoot for a company in L.A. I’m from Venice Beach.”
“Sweet! Welcome to the pit!”
“Thanks! Who do you shoot for?”
“A local paper here. You’d love it.”
“That’s awesome! I’d love to keep in touch. I’m trying to build a network around here. Mind if I Facebook you?”
“Sure, no problem.”
The lights dim and Death Cab takes the stage.
“Cool! I’ll get your info when we get out of here.”
I give her the thumbs up.
Three songs later, we’re escorted back from the front of the stage to collect our gear. My new friend Ida gets my name to send a friend request. “I found you!,” she says, all excited. I grab my phone to accept. “1 mutual friend,” it says. Yep. Jason. Out of all the freakin’ people in the freakin’ world. She looks up from her phone, “You know Jason?! That’s crazy! We’ve known each other for a long time.” (Emphasis on “long”.) She goes on for a minute before I interrupt. “Well, ironically, he’s my date tonight.” She pauses and her mouth drops open. “Wait? Jason’s here? That’s so great! He’s going to die when he sees me!,” she said. “Yeah,” I nodded with a squinty-eyed smile. “What a small world.”
Writer’s note: I realize I am acting like an insecure girl. Giant eye-roll ensues.