It was Thanksgiving weekend and I was spending the holiday in the suburbs of Los Angeles. After a week long stay at my grandparents’ house, I was in need of a night out. I grabbed a rental car and headed for Santa Monica.

 

If you’ve never driven down the PCH with your windows down and music blasting then put it on your bucket list. The California coast gives one of the most breathtaking views in the country. Not to be missed.

 

My first stop in Santa Monica was at a coffee shop around noon to plan out the day and evening hours. This was the last day of my vacation in SoCal and the only day I was free of family obligations. After being the PG, family-friendly version of myself for a week, this was the one time I could go out, drink, and make inappropriate comments to girls. I couldn’t afford to let the day go to waste.

 

I had a few potential dates simmering and told them all to meet up with me around 6. With only one day to play, I had to make it count. I couldn’t afford to get flaked on and go home empty handed. If none of the girls flaked, my plan was to pick the one I wanted most and then flake on the others. The naive and inexperienced man feels guilty for flaking on girls. I know because I used to be that man. In my early days, I never would have disrespected someone’s time by making plans and then bailing. But after it happens to you again and again and again, you start to just see it as the cost of doing business. And with the rise of online dating, flaking is at an all time high. It seems there is no obligation to follow through on plans you’ve made with a person you’ve never actually met. And I had gotten these girls’ phone numbers off of Tinder, Bumble, and Instagram. All I can say is double book your dates and learn the preemptive signs of flaking so you can maximize your dating life.

 

I decided to book a room at The Hotel California on Ocean Avenue. Even though I had to drive back to my grandparent’s house that night and catch an early morning flight, I needed a place to bring a girl back to for the time being. And grandma’s house probably wasn’t going to work. Shelling out a few bills to have a private room near some bars is always a worthwhile investment.

 

I walked into the hotel front office and was greeted by a friendly bro. I proceeded to tell him my situation of hanging with the grandparents all week and needing a night out. “God bless ‘em but sometimes you just gotta get away” the front desk bro tells me. He gives me a key to room 13 which is right on the street.

 

I spent the afternoon walking around, enjoying the view of the Pacific, and scoping out where I would take my date later in the evening. I walked down to the pier, walked down 3rd Street Promenade, and then walked down Ocean Avenue. Got a beer at Del Frisco’s, a beer at Ma’kai, and another beer at some shitty British pub. I could definitely enjoy living in Santa Monica. A walkable community is a bachelor’s paradise. And Santa Monica delivers the live/work/play experience all within a few square miles. Of course, the only downside is that not many people can afford to live here. And then the downside to the LA area in general is that traffic conditions can sometimes limit your dating options. Although LA is a top tier city in terms of both quality and quantity, most girls simply will not fight the horrific traffic to come meet you for a first date.

 

So as luck would have it, all of my dates flaked that evening except for one. Some girls didn’t want to fight the traffic. Others said they were feeling “sick”, which is code for they just don’t feel like it or they have another option that they would rather do instead.

 

But since I spread the risk of flaking across 4 girls, I ended up getting one to come out. She parked at The Hotel California to meet me and our plan was to walk to Del Frisco’s one block away for drinks. I had texted her earlier in the day and asked her to bring an iPhone charger along. I told her I’d be her best friend if she let me jump on it for a few minutes before our date. This request was originally out of genuine need for my dying phone. However, it quickly dawned on me how subtle and effectively it could be used as a convenient excuse to get my date inside my hotel room. When she arrived we had a quick drink in my room while we let my phone charge, watched TV, and chatted. A few minutes later we left for the bar.
Since I had stopped in for a beer at Del Frisco’s earlier in the afternoon, I had the chance to get to know the bartender a little and then left him a nice tip. He later rewarded me in front of my date by making it seem like I was regular who knew everyone. After a few drinks and some witty banter at the bar, we walked back to my hotel where she was parked. It then wasn’t too difficult to talk her into having “one more drink”  in my room and also to let my phone get a little more juice from her charger. It was a good night. After we went our separate ways, I checked out of the hotel and left Santa Monica that evening fully charged.

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