Ah, Los Angeles. The land of endless sunshine, perpetual traffic, and—if my past four months are any indication—a truly impressive parade of bad dates. It’s a special kind of Groundhog Day, where every promising conversation seems to lead to the same inevitable dead end. You start with hope, a perfectly fine cocktail, and then, before you know it, you’re nodding along to a guy explaining his high net worth or, worse, his archaic views on gender roles. It’s enough to make you wonder: is it me? Is it the city? Or am I just not cut out for this particular version of modern romance?
Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something. I just got out of a relationship, and maybe I’m not as ready as I think I am. Or maybe my desires are too niche for the South Bay of LA. I’m 53, and I’m looking for a relationship that defies convention—a close, passionate connection with someone who understands my need for freedom, for movement between two cities. I’m polyamorous and bisexual, and while the apps promise a world of possibility, they often deliver a lot of men who claim to be polyamorous but are really just looking for a hookup, or a newly divorced dad who’s clearly just trying to figure out what to do with his newfound “freedom.”
“Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something.”
I tried the apps, of course. I swiped through the profiles and messaged with the best of them. I met a handful of people who seemed to get it, but the reality often fell short. One guy seemed great, and said he was solo poly like me, until I discovered he was literally moving in with his girlfriend that weekend. He called his relationship “nonhierarchical,” but moving in together is a pretty clear sign of a hierarchy to me. This experience, though disappointing, did help clarify what I’m truly seeking: a solo polyamorous partner. For the uninitiated, being solo poly means you’re not looking to merge your life with a partner. You don’t have a primary or a nest-mate. You’re your own primary partner. It’s about maintaining independence while still forming deep, committed connections.
For the uninitiated, being solo poly means you’re not looking to merge your life with a partner. You don’t have a person who always comes first. You’re your own primary partner.
Then there were the other dates. There was the guy who got a little too drunk and started spewing racist stereotypes about Asian women being submissive. I’m still cringing. Another date seemed promising, but he talked about himself the entire time, asked me nothing, and then essentially ghosted after the second date. To my surprise, I felt nothing. No disappointment, no sadness. Just a quiet sense of relief.
It’s becoming clear that my dating priorities might need a re-evaluation. I’m focusing on strengthening my friendships and family connections here in LA. I might have better luck dating in my hometown, where the vibe is a little more liberal and a lot less focused on the hustle. If I meet someone “in the wild” here, that would be great, but I’m not holding my breath. I’m learning to be happy and comfortable with my own company, even as I still crave companionship and intimacy. The search continues, just maybe in a different location.
How have your dating experiences differed, based on your location? Or is it always hit or miss wherever you are?