The Incredibly True and Heartbreaking Tale of my First Hollywood Breakup, Chapter 1

This tale is true. All of the names have been changed because Amaris can afford to sue me and I can't afford to be sued.

Part A: I paint the background a glorious and sunny shade

About twelve years ago, while I was still an undergrad, I was working as a waiter in a super-small, neighborhoodly, all-gay-owned restaurant (it's still there, but I'm not) with four owners, all very different from one another, but all friends at the time. I was hired practically on the spot and I loved my job so much. The owners were almost all a little bit older than I, except for one, Devin, who was a little bit younger (he and I are still good friends to this day), and I got along with all of them.

This was the early/mid-nineties, when computer access at home was not yet a given and America Online was still considered a hot new cool thing. Of course, I signed up, and was able to have a username that was a nine-letter word with no numbers or symbols in it - unheard of by today's standards. It didn't take long before I discovered the chat rooms and how much fun I could have in them. It had not yet occurred to me that the the seemingly hot punk-rock dyke I was chatting with could easily have been someone's grandfather. C'est la vie - I was having a good time and learning all sorts of useless information.

The owner/chef, Jackie, was a butch dyke who liked to flirt with me. I flirted right back at her because I found that, in doing so, I could obtain mini favors from her such as getting my tables' food faster than the other server (who Jackie didn't like anyway). Jackie and I also shared a common interest in that we both enjoyed stopping by the local strip club for a post-work beer, so we'd hit our friendly neighborhood titty bar together after work once in awhile.

Part B: I take the bait

One day, Jackie tells me about her friend, Amaris, who just got online and maybe I should email Amaris and show her the ropes and chat with her.

"No problemo," I tell Jackie and ask her if Amaris is cute. Jackie assures me that not only is she cute, but she's coming to town soon.

"Wait a minute...coming to town? From where?" I ask her. Jackie then tells me that Amaris lives in Los Angeles.

"Hmmm. I don't like LA. No LA girls for me, thanks," I tell Jackie she should find someone else to flirt with her friend online.

"No, you'll like her - she's really super smart," Jackie tells me. "In fact, we should all go out when she comes to town."

"I'll think about it."

Jackie gives me Amaris' email address and suggests I write her. I pretty much blow off that idea because I don't want to involve myself with someone from LA (for the record: some of my stereotypes about LA turned out to be true and some, not so much). I figured that Amaris would be snobbish and I wasn't in the mood for that.

A few weeks later, Jackie says to me, "Hey, Amaris is coming to town next week. She's coming in here to have dinner - you can wait on her- and then we'll all go out for drinks after work and maybe play pool or something."

A blind (albeit, group) date with a cute out-of-town girl? Sure, why the hell not? I tell Jackie that I'm in and start thinking about what I'll be wearing to work that night. I opt for the naughty schoolgirl look, complete with black thigh-high stockings with my Doc Marten oxfords. I learn from Jackie that Amaris works in the entertainment industry and is very cultured and very hip.

Part C: Meeting Amaris

When the fateful Friday night arrives, I'm feeling great and excited about my post-shift afterparty. I'm rockin' my naughty schoolgirl getup and I think it's working. Amaris comes into the restaurant at around 8pm and she's adorable: tall, athletic build, sort of a k.d. lang look, but with Clark Kent glasses. She has a great smile and her face is full of expression. Yeah, I can hang with her. We have a great time flirting up a storm while I'm waiting on her. She tells me to select a wine for her and then to select her dinner, as well. I'm loving this. She seems to, also.

Part D: In which I am slapped silly

As I'm serving her a trio of chocolate pave with a cardomom cream sauce for dessert, alongside a double espresso (I figure she'll need that), I bring up the subject of going out later for beer and pool. Nevermind that I don't play pool. I don't need to.

Amaris informs me that she's planning on going back to her friends' house, where she's staying, and going to sleep after dinner.

Huh???

"Soooooo, you're not going out for drinks and pool with the rest of us when we get off work?"

Amaris smiles and politely says no thanks, that she's tired and she's gonna take a raincheck this time.

Crap. Was it something I said? Things seemed to be going so well. What happened?