The Englishman
I met the Englishman at a house party in Malibu. He walked in on me, crouched in a large bathtub, counting the painted swan tiles on the wall in an ensuite bathroom.
“Whoa! Sorry!”
”No problem.”
”You okay?”
I nod. “Guess I like bathtub views. The sconces are Murano.”
The Englishman’s passion for Los Angeles real estate matched mine. He was also touring the house in appreciation. I have watched Los Angeles Zillow every single day since 2007. That’s almost twenty years. Part of my diagnosis was obsession-based: film, music, real estate, spiritualism, fashion, Western Canada. The Englishmen had 4/6 of the same special interests.
The Englishman and I spent three hours getting to know each other at the house party in Malibu. We toured the house and talked about real estate, work (he’s a musician), his kids (younger than mine), and how I see my life in fifteen years (much like his goal). How he lives his day-to-day (much like mine) Cults (same, again.)
We had a brief moment when, at a table, a woman asked what my tarot card was. As I was realizing I didn’t really want to answer, the Englishman held my hand under the table.
”The Star,” I lie.
This was one of my favorite meet-cutes, so how did it end with a nude and gaslighting? I would tell you for free, but I currently have a large medical bill I have to pay for my family, and I would appreciate any new subscribers this month. (I’m sorry for breaking the 4th, but I have kids, and I will break the 4th for them because I’m all they have.) Please subscribe to continue this meet-cute and its subsequent illegal activities.