L.A. Affairs: He said I was smarter and funnier than his ex. So why was he conflicted?
Kaitlin Brito / For The Times
Jay and I matched on Hinge the night I was going to delete my account. His profile painted a picture of intellect and being well-traveled, active and fun. His messages were witty, and he knew how to keep the conversation going. I was more invested in getting to sleep, so I eventually replied with a question and logged off.
When I didn’t hear from him the next day, I deleted my account as planned, disappearing from our conversation. Days later, I received a connection request and message from Jay on LinkedIn. He was traveling for work, and when he went back on Hinge, he thought he had accidentally deleted our match and panicked. He was relieved to see that a search for my name and occupation led to my profile on LinkedIn.
I could have been creeped out, but instead it felt like old-school dating, when you’re in a room full of people and you see that one person you want to talk to. He looked for me, and I felt chosen.
“The term ‘Funcle’ is starting to sound nice to me.”
On LinkedIn, we had mutual work connections, we were both in leadership and our careers intersected. I worked in animated films, and he worked in toys, producing children’s toys for characters in films I have worked on. “Given the intersection of our careers, shouldn’t we at least meet?” Jay asked.
We met at Brand Library & Art Center in Glendale. Within the first few minutes, I made a quirky remark about the library’s collection of music CDs that made him snort-laugh. As I was thinking, Did he just snort?, he said, “Great, I snorted. So much for first impressions.” The ice was broken.
We went from the library to a nearby bar. I was drawn to his smile and laugh, which were on display often. His sense of humor was in sync with mine, which is a much sought-after connection for me. I liked his quiet confidence. Conversation was natural and easy, not one-sided. We ended the evening with a hug and a “Let’s do it again.”
Our next date was playing pickleball immediately followed by dinner at the French bistro Entre Vous in Pasadena. I loved that we went from the court to the restaurant with zero expectation of having to change from our athletic wear. This man was winning points for not expecting me to get fancy for dinner.
I had a strong urge to talk to guy in the next hospital bed, but that would be weird, right? I reminded myself we were in a hospital, not at a social event.
A turning point for us was a date that started at Echo Park Lake. We rented a swan paddleboat on a picturesque day when we could see the downtown L.A. skyline with great clarity in the distance, with the water and fellow swan boats in the foreground. I felt completely myself without the self-consciousness that sometimes comes with those first few dates. After paddling, we took a leisurely stroll around the lake, twice. Our conversation got deep: previous trauma, relationships, vulnerabilities, outlook in life.
We talked about our last relationships. He was in a long-distance relationship for two years with a woman who lived in another state. She helped bring him out of a deep depression following his divorce. They talked of building a future together, she met his kids, she planned to relocate and move in with him. After a great first year, things fizzled. She became inconsistent in how she showed up to the relationship, and he ended it.
I asked if he still had feelings for her. “She is dead to me,” he said bluntly. This seemed harsher than his usual persona, so I clearly hit a nerve. But it was reassuring.
I talked about my regrettable three-year relationship with a man who was a prolific liar when it came to other women and was completely devoid of emotional support when it mattered most. Jay listened intently as I shared my journey of understanding why I stayed with a man who came into the relationship waving red flags.
After my partner’s death, I decided to start online dating. It’s been a nightmare. Just ask my friends who have heard all of my bad date stories with weird men.
During that walk with Jay, I felt more seen, heard and supported than I had in the entire relationship with my ex-boyfriend. After shaking off the seriousness of our conversation, we drove to Barnsdall Art Park for a picnic. “Rise” by Herb Alpert came on in the car. Jay turned up the volume and rolled down the windows, and we cruised up to the park like teenage sweethearts pulling into high school. The song became the first in our soundtrack. “Suddenly” by Billy Ocean would later join it as the song we slow-danced to in Jay’s kitchen while both chuckling at how ridiculously corny the scene was and wondering if anyone in the hills of Highland Park could see us.
It was an exciting two months. We could talk shop. He valued my work experience and expertise, turning to me when he had what he called WWBD (What Would Bernie Do) moments. I exposed him to new hikes. He taught me how to cook Mediterranean dishes. We saw live music and we laughed a lot. I even thought he was cute when he arrived for one of our hikes looking like a beekeeper with his wide-brimmed safari hat. He jokingly wondered how I’d allow myself to be seen with him looking like that, which made me like him even more.
Everything was great until his ex-girlfriend was resurrected from the ashes of “She is dead to me” with one phone call to Jay. She professed her love for him and owned up to the ills of her ways. He ended that call by telling her that he needed time to process their conversation.
A strong jawline, that scruff, those biceps. Yes, I’m into the guy from my office building. So what did I do? I messaged him on LinkedIn.
To his credit, Jay told me about the call, and his resulting conflicted feelings. He said that by all accounts, he and I were more compatible and that I am smarter, funnier and in a better place in my career than his ex. But he valued the memories he had of their relationship, especially at its high point. I respected Jay for his honesty and transparency, but I was blindsided.
While teetering on the line between being supportive and standing my ground, I shared my thoughts simply: “I’m not going to pitch myself to you. This isn’t ‘The Bachelor.’ I don’t compete. I’m either the first choice or I’m not.” He asked for a night to think things through. While I already considered that to be a choice against what we had, I agreed.
Ultimately he chose his known history with his ex over the potential we had. I was heartbroken. It felt like I was unexpectedly hurled out of a roller coaster going full speed. It was tough to hear, but I understood.
I don’t know how the conversation with his ex went or if he eventually got on a plane for an in-person conversation or if they gave their relationship another go. It doesn’t matter.
Should I be on a date with a man who’s two years younger than my father? I’m not attracted to him and I don’t find him interesting.
Being with Jay showed me a partnership rooted in intellectual and emotional connection, belly laughs and honesty. Even if we had continued dating, it was too early to tell where things could have gone. All I know with utmost certainty is that I want the same deep connection we had, but with a man who will always choose me.
The author has been a Valley girl her entire adult life. In addition to having a day job, she is a freelance writer and creative director. She shares local outdoor inspiration on the Instagram account @h5tolife.
L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.
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