The connection: My roommate's trainer, Benito (who I've met once when we were looking at apartments together) has another client who has a roommate, Anton. I was to go for drink with Anton.
It was a stretch, yes.
Of course, the first thing I did when I found out his name was Google that shit (like you don't). He seemed interesting enough.
So we went to this cute neighborhood Polish restaurant for drinks. I thought it went well. He was a fox and quite nice. But as I was getting out of his car, I knew I wasn't going to get a call back though.
WHY?
I had insulted probably the three most important dimensions of his identity. (It's kind of laughable actually.)
a) He is from L.A.: Before I knew this, I was talking about how so many people from LA whom I've met have been assholes.
b) He's a lawyer: nuff said. I live with, work with, and previously dated a lawyer. I didn't have too many kind words.
c) He's half Mexican: I referred to my old truck as a Mexican Lesbian (or is it Lesbian Mexican) car.
I attacked his home turf, his profession, and his blood.
Win some and loose some, I guess.
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