Can I just say something? Los Angeles is the toxic boyfriend who, no matter how many times he ghosts me, gaslights me, or leaves me crying into a $17 dirty martini at Craig’s, I still find myself running back into his arms — or, more accurately, onto the 405.
The last month or so, I hit pause on our rollercoaster relationship. I needed a break, so I spent time visiting family in Arizona (where everything, including people’s motives, feels simpler) and then flirted with Miami for a while. Let me tell you, Miami is the hot rebound we all deserve — flashy, warm, and oh- so-generous with his charms. He’s got pastel sunsets, late-night dancing, and an ocean that feels like he’s actually trying to impress you.
And yet, even with Miami’s undeniable allure, I found myself scrolling through my mental contacts, swiping right on LA again.
Maybe it’s the way he smells like a mix of ambition and eucalyptus. Or how no other city gives you the high of locking eyes with a stranger across the bar at Sunset Tower, thinking this could be the one. But mostly, it’s because LA is a love affair that keeps me on my toes, even if it leaves me breathless in all the wrong ways.
I think my toxic relationship with LA mirrors my dating life here. Just last week, I went out with a guy I met at Erewhon — classic LA, I know. He was charming in that I-do-pilates-but-still-ride-a-Harley kind of way. Over overpriced smoothies, he told me about his start-up that’s “totally disrupting the tech space” and his upcoming trip to Bali for a meditation retreat. I was intrigued. This could work, I thought.
By date three, I learned that his “start-up” was basically a funded hobby and his Bali retreat was more about ‘shroom-fueled self-discovery than spiritual enlightenment. And yet, when he ghosted me a week later, I found myself weirdly disappointed, even though I’d seen the red flags waving like they were on clearance at a car dealership.
Why? Because dating in LA, much like the city itself, is full of these moments — of dazzling promise, a hint of magic, and then, inevitably, the letdown. But here’s the thing: you keep going back. Whether it’s because of that one guy who actually calls after the first date or because you know that for every miss, there’s another chance waiting for you at the bar at Bottega Louie.
Los Angeles, for all its flaws, is that boyfriend who makes you believe this time will be different. And honestly? Maybe it will be. After all, isn’t that what keeps us here — hope wrapped in chaos, dressed in designer sneakers, and driving a leased Tesla?
So here I am, back in my on-again, off-again love affair with LA. We both know he’s never going to fully commit to me. But for now, I’m okay with that. Because even with his flaws, no one does romance, heartbreak, or second chances quite like he does.
And who knows? Maybe the next date — or the next chapter — will be the one that changes everything. Or, at the very least, leads to a great story.
Xoxo,