I packed up my life in New York for Los Angeles , certain love was waiting for me on the other side of Los Angeles International Airport's highly inconvenient Uber lot. Within 72 hours of being in L.A., I found a boyfriend who was handsome, successful and serious about us — and me. I had moved to Hancock Park on a Thursday and I met Nick at Mozza on Sunday. He was endearing, with a great smile, warm eyes and good style — I’m a sucker for driving loafers.
All the other boxes were checked. Could I wear rubber? I tried to negotiate. If what I picked wasn’t what he wanted, then let him shop, and I would be open-minded. All bets were off when I took cheap red pleather underwear and a bra with horse bits out of a silk bag. If in gift-giving it’s the thought that counts, my being comfortable, literally or figuratively, was nowhere in his thought process. This was not me. “Why do you care what you’re wearing if it makes me happy?” he lamented.
Love New York Los Angeles Relationship Dating Moving
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