Every Man in Los Angeles is a Fucking Douchebag.

It's true. They are.

I will elaborate.

I went bar hopping with my friend Vanessa on Saturday. I have at this point completely given up of meeting guys when I go out because they are not really interested in meeting women. They are not even interested in having one night stands, that would even be plausible. Single men in LA only like attention, and that's pretty much it.

The first bar we went to, me and my girlfriend were talking and some guy taps me on my shoulder and asks me what I'm drinking. He's clearly gay. I say margarita. He's drunk, and keeps talking as if maybe he might kind of be hitting on me. But never really makes it perfectly clear. Once again, gay. He rubs up against me, I confirm with my friend that homeboy is gay. I'm confused. No, not really. He's gay. And wasted. My girlfriend gets up and goes to the bathroom, he sits on the stool next to me and starts chatting. My friend comes back he asks us to join the party that's he's with so we can get free drinks. We get up...he runs off...we sit back down.

Another man with ambiguous sexuality comes up. We're about to leave, and we ask does he want our seats. He says no. Now the way LA clubs work in my opinion, it's either a bar where nothing but black people frequent, or not many black people at all. So it's not really a surprise to me anymore that if I go to a club and I'm the only black woman there. Ambiguous, wearing a shirt that says Santa Monica, looks dead at me and says, "Is this Little Ethopia?, You don't look Ethiopean."

Let's go.

We head to bar called the dime. It's packed. While making our way to the bar, I see a really cute dude who I intend to flirt with. After almost getting into a fight with a girl at the bar we sit down, and I asked his friend who looks and sounds a lot like Mike Tyson where he went. Friend took this as his in to proceed to tell me the hard road he's traveled in life. But he says it in a very Mike Tyson-ish way.
Cutie Pie sits back down.

Me: "So what part of LA do you live."
Cutie: "Nicholls Canyon."
Me: "Where?"
Cutie: "Nicholls Canyon, like LMFAO are my neighbors. Wanna see my pictures with Paris? We're friends."

Okay, let's go.

The last bar we hit included a drunken conspiracy theorist who wouldn't leave us alone, a model (who left early), and the worst corned beef hash I've ever eaten in my life.

I hope none of you are planning on moving here.