How to Date in Hollywood

Today I ate lunch al fresco in the Hollywood Hills with a few, eligible, handsome (two of them male models), early- forties bachelors. Somewhere between the rosé and the espresso, the conversation turned to women and the annoying things that we do. Being happily married–knock on parquet–I don’t have a need for dating advice these days but I’m always curious to hear what comes up. I will share with you the dollops of wisdom that did:

Women are terrible at giving each other compliments and are always threatened when their man admits to finding anyone else (especially celebrities, and extra especially if said celeb looks nothing whatsoever like you) hot. So stop being insecure.

Women shouldn’t sleep with a guy on the first date.

Don’t be a coke head.

Women shouldn’t wait a ridiculous amount of time (actual time unspecified) to sleep with a guy just because they’ve been whores up until now and are suddenly changing their ways.

Women should have arguments in private. Arguments on the street are embarrassing. Don’t do that.

Quality women don’t hang out at the Playboy Mansion. So don’t go there (as if that’s an option for most).

Oh, and lastly, ladies—don’t be dumb.

Now, clearly I have gone and radically reduced a conversation here so I will add a few disclaimers. I thoroughly enjoyed the company of these men, who are seemingly intelligent and thoughtful. And I’ve no doubt that I could summarize a conversation between a table of ladies into something equally cliché.I decided to hold my tongue at lunch because A: Any sweeping defense of my sex would have been a conversation stopper and I was too curious to see what was up next; B: I have definitely felt threatened by another hot girl (and/or celeb, and/or porn star) before and most certainly argued on the street; and C: I’m sure these dudes have met insecure, flighty, promiscuous and/or gals feigning prude at the Playboy Mansion. I’ve never been there. I was busy shagging my now-husband on the first date.

I’m home from my day now and ready for some bad TV and a soak in the tub. Still, with the rosé buzz worn off, my luncheon has me feeling a touch depressed and sorry for both sexes. What’s the lesson here, I wonder? I’m thinking it’s something between be yourself and look for genuine connections and get the &*($ out of Hollywood.

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