Your music will live forever…

http://abclocal.go.com/kabc/livenow?id=688456

I’m sarcastic. I know this and my friends know this. And I know that sometimes sarcasm can get lost in cyberspace, but most of the time my sarcasm is obvious especially to my friends. Most of my friends are also sarcastic so this rarely becomes an issue.

Today, one of my good friends posted a status update on Facebook. It read something like “I’ve been stuck on the 101 for 2 1/2 hours. Live sucks.” To which I respond “Live? Do you mean life? Can’t you pay attention to spelling while driving?” Funny right? To which my friend responds “Eliza, don’t be a bitch.” Well, I have an issue with someone calling me a bitch. Sometimes this word can be used in a funny way. Sometimes it’s used to imply someone is assertive. And let’s face it, a lot of women are called bitch for having traits that are viewed as positive attributes in men — assertive, competitive, outspoken.

So being called a bitch, over a humorous comment did not sit well with me. My friend went on to post yet another status update about how her life sucks. Well, if it does, it is not because she’s stuck in traffic. This is LA. Traffic is horrible any given day. Most people get stuck in traffic. Sometimes the traffic is even worst than other days. Today seemed to have been one of those days. Two of my friends were on their way to San Francisco to LA and two hours after they left home they were still in LA… stuck in traffic.

So, because I have two other friends stuck in traffic (and one of them had made a comment about how traffic sucks), I decide to post a status update that said something like “My heart goes out to all my friends stuck in traffic. Being stuck in traffic blows. But please don’t say “life sucks” just because you’re stuck in traffic.” And my friend responds “You are out of line.” And so goes on the war of the words with no winners at the end.

Here’s the thing, her life does NOT suck. She is beautiful, smart, accomplished and happily married. She is not in a bad financial situation. She has a good life. Most people would be very happy to have her life. And most people would not say that their life sucks just because they’re stuck in traffic.

Life sucks for so many other reasons. Life is hard for a lot of people. Like the person who was telling her story on NPR about trying to find a job, and trying to keep her optimism. She was hoping that she finds a job soon so that her kids don’t have to postpone their plans for college. But even she didn’t say that her life sucks. Despite the tough setbacks.  A week ago I was at the cemetery. It was the 1-year anniversary of the death of one my brother’s friends. I watched the friend’s family grieve and try to make sense of the untimely death. I bet every day they deal with the memory of their loss and for them, part of life will suck forever. But I can’t imagine them ever thinking that life sucks because they are stuck in traffic.

I’m extremely unpopular on ArmenianMatch.com. Something about my profile really offends Armenian men in cyberspace. So much so that they take their aggression out by ranking my photo/profile 1 on a 1-5 scale. So, here’s what my profile says:

About Me:

I’m smart, sarcastic and liberal in political views. Have lived on my own for a very long time, by choice. Value my independence. Have a great circle of friends. Busy social life. My therapist and my best friend are trying to prove that there are Armenian men who can break my stereotype of Armenian men… So I figured I’d give this a chance.

[This part was added after I got an email with the subject line: MISS LIBERAL, KEEP YOUR ASS IN HOLLYWOOD] I’ve gotten some angry emails from Armenian men because apparently the “liberal” me didn’t sit well with them. The truth is, I’d rather be with an “odar”* that respects me and treats me as an equal than with an Armenian man who feels he’s superior to me based on his gender. That doesn’t mean I don’t love my culture or history. I’m actually very proud of my ethnic heritage. And yes it would be easier to meet an Armenian guy, but I’m not willing to settle.

I’ve held a job my entire adult life, I’m not interested in driving the latest car I can’t afford or buying a bag that’s worth more than the money I have in my wallet. So, if your idea is to spend your money on material possessions you can’t afford just to show off your friends/relatives, I’m not the girl for you.

And please, if my liberal status offends you, move on to the next profile. But seriously, if you’d rather send me an angry email about anything in my profile, it says more about you than about me.

What I’m looking for:

Someone who’s smart, good looking, ambitious and liberal. Has a great sense of humor. And doesn’t think that life is about “dinner-dance-party” every weekend. Someone who likes to travel and has curiosity about the world. If you’re sarcastic and love to dance, even better.

*Odar is anyone who is not Armenian.

And so far, out of 20 people who have viewed my profile, 15 have actually voted. One person has rated it 4, and another 14 have rated it 1 (1 being the lowest on the scale), making my profile the most unpopular profile on Armenian Match. Sigh.

But at least I can say I gave it a try. For the past year my therapist has been wanting me to change my opinion of Armenian men and expand my social circle to meet open-minded, intelligent Armenian men. My best friend has also been on a mission to find me a nice, attractive Armenian guy. Not because she’s Armenian, but because she figures that it’ll be easier to date someone who understands my culture. And because she signed me up on Armenian Match (not realizing that putting my email address in the profile, meant I was going to get an email confirmation and figure out she was behind the profile) I decided to give it a chance.

The first guy who emailed me, lived in Boston area. He wanted to know if I’m willing to relocate. That was actually the question in his subject line. Then there were other emails from men who have zero chance. Men who were way past the age range I’m looking for, geographically undesirable and physically unattractive. Why would a guy with man-boobs and hairy chest, standing in a pool, holding a baby email me twice and ask if I want to chat. Did he even read my profile? Did he see my picture? And I know he voted “1″ at least twice. I blocked him once, but psycho-dude decided to change his profile name and come back and look at my profile again.

Had he paid any attention to my profile, he would have realized that I am not looking for a 45-yr old, overweight, divorced guy, with a baby, living in Van Nuys. Nor am I looking for a 39-yr old divorced guy with 2 kids, no profile picture (meaning he’s fugly) living in Pasadena who was so offended by my profile that he sent me an email telling me to keep my ass in Hollywood. Umm… thanks. My ass is actually doing quite well in Hollywood and it has no plans to venture out anywhere where its not appreciated.

So that’s been my experience on Armenian Match. I promised myself I’d give it a month. Only because there’s a hot French-Armo. But two weeks into this experiment, the results are not looking promising.

On a somewhat related side note… Tonight, after driving back from San Diego I decided to stop by a market in Little Armenia section of Hollywood to pick up a few things on my way home. I’m stopped at a red light, and I feel the car behind me bump into my car. No big impact, but I try to signal him to pull over, and he keeps driving. I end up pulling to the side of the street and hoping he pulls over. It was very minor impact, but I just wanted to make sure there was no damage to my car. I pull over, the person drives up next to me, rolls down the window and screams at me “motherfucker”. No joke. And here’s the kicker… He’s an Armenian man, at least in his 40s. He bumped into my car while I’m stopped at a red light, and he’s yelling AT ME! At this point, I’m in a total shock. Did this person really just pull up next to me and cuss at me? Now, I’m NOT exactly scared of a confrontation. So I chase after him, roll down my window, and I cuss him out in English and Armenian. I wish you could have seen his face when he realized I was Armenian. And for the record, my profanities were directed at him and his father.

So after an exhaustive roommate search, which lasted almost 2 months, I finally found the one. It was love it first sight. We met, we clicked, we instantly knew it was meant to be. She moved in couple of weeks ago.

The new roommate is great. She’s pretty and she loves lamb. What more can I ask for?

Now that one area of my domestic life is taken care of, I’ve been doing some house cleaning in the other areas. I figured it’s time to de-clutter my life to make room for something better.

Turns out, Facebook is the real test for relationships. And it seems like nothing sends a message faster then deleting someone from your friend list on Facebook. And after way too many emotional ups and downs with a certain someone, I decided to delete him from my Facebook friends. At this point, there’s really no point. I don’t want to know what’s going on with him through Facebook. I don’t want to get messages that he was tagged in a photo. I don’t want to see any mutual friends commenting on his wall through Facebook. Too much information. I just don’t want to know.

And I don’t want him to know. I’m done. I don’t want to be friends. I want more. He doesn’t. He wants to be just friends. Unfortunately we’re not just friends. I figured what better way to tell him we’re not just friends than Facebook.  And for the second time in two months I defriended him, by deleting him from Facebook. The first time it took less than 12 hrs for him to notice. And after the first de-friending I got a text message, with an apology (about the event that had led to the de-friending), saying how he would be really sad if we weren’t friends anymore. I fell for it. Let him back in to my life. Added him back on Facebook. 

Then I realized things just weren’t going in the right direction. He wanted to be just friends.  I have plenty of friends. I like to keep my friendships simple. I don’t need complicated “friendships.” Not the kind where there’s a lot of attraction and chemistry and spending time together, under the guise of “friendship.” I don’t have shortage of friends, male or female. And at 32, I’m not looking for a “special friend” or a “friend with benefits.” Been there, done that. A lot. Finally ready for something more.  And being a faux girlfriend without benefits isn’t working for me.

So, he’s been de-friended. Again. And he noticed. Within 12 hrs. And sent me an email, through Facebook. “Again?” He asked. “Did you defriend me?” Seems like the only time he gets angry is when I de-friend him.  This time, I just don’t have the energy to respond. I’m exhausted. I just can’t be just a friend. Because I’m not.

Thank you Facebook… for delivering the message.

I finally decided to let things go. I decided to let go of the stress of finding a roommate and made the decision that I was going to stay in my apartment regardless. I figured it might be a bit of financial stress but the thought of moving was causing me too much mental stress.

I decided I was going to stay. And voila! I have found a new roommate. It was love at first sight. We met, and we instantly knew it felt right. She moves in next month. But that’s not all. It seems like when it rains, it pours and right now it’s pouring roommates. Everyone wants to be my roommate. Including the guy who backed out at the very last minute.

Friday morning, after the new roommate and I decided we were going to be living together, I get an email from the “almost roommate.” It reads:

Hi Eliza,

So my brilliant last minute alternative ended up falling through (karma); any chance you are still looking for a roommate?

M***

Nice. Thank you universe. I love how karma works. Although to M***’s credit, he did send me the check he promised. I have to say, I actually felt bad for him. It couldn’t have been easy for him to write that email and acknowledge the karmic punishment. And I also know how it feels to be left at the altar at the very last minute. Not a good feeling.

So just as I let go of the stress of the roommate search I found a new roommate. But that’s not all I decided to let go of. I decided to let go of a toxic relationship that had occupied my life for the past few months. I can’t believe that for the past four months I became THAT girl. The girl that puts up with the crap. Gives the Guy too many chances. Every time I decided to cut things off with the Guy, he came running back into my life. He would throw me a bone, showing that he gives a crap, but now I’m realizing that it was just a bone, and I like some meat on the bone and the meat wasn’t there. Friday afternoon, after another great therapy session, I decided to cut off the tumor. Which is how my therapist referred to this relationship. In her words “cut it off before it spreads through the rest of your body.”

I’ve decided to take back control of my life and let him go… I feel better already.

After the emotional roller-coaster on Monday, when the almost-roommate backed out, I went into panic mode. Started exploring other possibilities. Posted on craigslist yet again, reached out to friends on facebook, and even considered moving! I decided to look for a one bedroom in the Hollywood Hills area. And I was met with a nice, big dose of reality check.

I’m pretty particular about where I live. I want an equally great apartment, but at a reasonable price ($1,000-$1,100). But for some strange reason “great+reasonable” don’t seem to add up in the locations where I would consider living.

Tuesday night I went to see a one bedroom apartment in Beachwood Canyon area. It was advertised as 1 bedroom, corner unit, with views and a pool in the building. The living area was smaller than my living room, the bedroom was smaller than my bedroom and even the kitchen was smaller than my kitchen. I already have a pretty tiny kitchen. The carpet was navy blue (leftover from the 80s). There was no landscaping around the pool area and the view that was advertising was a view of the buildings across the street.  I know I sound ridiculous but after having a skyline view of LA from every room (including my bathroom), and a view of Capitol Records building from my living room, it’s pretty tough to look at another place with no views.  I’m willing to live at an apartment with mountain views, or ocean views, but not views of the building across the street. So Tuesday night I came home and cried. The idea of starting the roommate search again, or moving to a sub-par one bedroom just wasn’t that appealing to me. 

But now I’m feeling better.  I’ve realized how much I really love my apartment, my building and 99% of the neighbors. (The next door neighbor can be a bit problematic, but for the most part we get along).  I’ve decided to stay put. The idea of moving away from my fabulous place is just too depressing. I’d rather donate my eggs (but I think I might be too old). Or maybe I can sell a pint of blood every month. But in any case, I’ve decided to stay in my fabulous apartment. I’m sure that things will work out just fine…

Swimming Pool - Hollywood Hills

Skyline Views of Los Angeles from Hollywood Hills Apt

This has been the most difficult roommate search ever! In the past 6+ years of living apartment, with 4 different roommates (5, including Legally Fawn while she was doing a summer internship at a law firm), it has never taken me more than 3 days to find a roommate. A really awesome roommate. Usually, I’ve never even interviewed more than 3 people. When I met Melissa, it was love at first sight. We stared into each other’s eyes and we knew. We knew we had found the perfect roommate. And same with Shannon. We instantly knew.

And then there were 20… mostly bad roommate interviews. Three or four good ones, but still rejected for something else. Something different. Not necessarily better. The similarities between my roommate search and my dating life are uncanny. A lot of bad first dates. Some false starts. Some good connections that lead to nowhere. Sometimes it’s timing. Sometimes it’s location. Sometimes it’s just me. Sometimes it’s the other person. Sometimes we’re just not that into each other. Or I’m not into him. Or the other way around. But you get the point.

About two weeks ago, March 11 to be exact, a guy I had met with two days earlier emails me. “Hey Eliza, any chance you want to be roommates?” When we met, we had a nice easy conversation. He seemed like a nice guy. I figured, sure why not. Over the next week and a half we go back and forth over the details. He tells me he wants to move in earlier than April 1. Sure, I tell him… He comes and fills out the roommate application and signs the roommate contract. We decide he can move in Sunday (March 22). So I get the place ready. Get a maid to come clean the place. Get a carpet cleaner. Paint the room… out of consideration that he might not want to live in a room with yellow walls. He texts me on Sunday… asking if it’s ok if he moves in Monday instead. “Can we put this off until tomorrow? Everything can be effective as of today.” Sure I tell him. Not a problem. 

Then Monday comes. It’s 7 pm. I get a text. He says… “I’ve decided not to move in. I found a different living situation. I will mail you one month’s rent to fulfill my obligation to you. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

Yup. I’ve been stood up. Royally. Even better than the time when I got stood up 2 minutes before the date… In fact, I think this qualifies for being left at the altar…

P.S. What are the chances he’s going to send a check. I’m taking bets…

Is a lot like dating… There are the friend of friend setups and the online dating sites (craigslist and roommates.com**). But overall, it’s like going on a whole bunch of awkward blind dates, with zero chemistry. But once in a while you strike gold. You know you’ve met the one… the perfect roommate. In my case, I’m looking for #5. After 4 amicable breakups in the last 6+ years.

About a month ago, my fabulous roommate of over two years told me she was moving out. Moving in with her boyfriend. This was a very sad news for me. After two plus years it had become an easy routine. We knew each other’s quirks. Knew when the other one needed space. And she knew that until my first cup of coffee in the morning I was not the nicest person to talk to. I knew that once in a while she would admit that things bothered her but most of the time she let things go.

And about a month ago, as I turned on the coffee maker and started walking towards my bedroom to take a shower, my fab roomie gave me the news. Don’t like getting this type of news before my morning coffee. Especially when I haven’t had coffee AND I’m not wearing my contact lenses. Then it’s really disorienting. But I took the news rather well. I do love Shannon and I knew it was the best decision for her (and I’m giving myself extra credit points for considering her best interest, not just mine). And right after we had this chat, I went straight to my computer and posted an ad on Craigslist. Well, Craigslist just isn’t what it used to be two years ago.

Sometime between October 2006 and February 2009, Craigslist was invaded by “pediatric nurses,” and other professionals “moving” to LA from far out places like Australia, Spain, Nigeria, etc. And they ALL wanted to move into the spare bedroom without even meeting me or seeing the place. But first, they wanted to send a deposit to “hold” the place. Umm, sure… let me also give you my social security number and my mother’s maiden name. Good one.

For the more legit interested parties, I did some online background check. Between Google, Linkedin, Facebook and Myspace, I could pretty much get the scoop on most potential roommates. And since I’m an expert on search, one of my brilliant search phrases led me to a LinkedIn profile. I found out that the person I was about to meet to show the apartment worked at the same company as one of my very close friends. About five minutes before her arrival I text my friend and ask her if she knows this person. I get a response within 30 seconds. “Yes. Don’t do anything until we talk.” She’s kind of a mental case my friend tells me. At this point, I was already annoyed with Little Miss Mental Case because she was late for our appointment and I had missed my Sunday morning spinning class to accommodate her schedule. Despite her pretty smile and bright blue eyes, this just wasn’t going to work out.

Then it was off to the comic/actor/waiter. Then the fabulous gay academic (which is how he described himself in his email), who rejected me for a studio apartment. And for the record, I was the one who rejected the comic/actor/waiter. He just wasn’t my type. For a roommate I mean. Not just because he wasn’t that cute. Something about his energy just bothered me. But I’ll be honest… I also want an attractive roommate. Male or female doesn’t matter. Gay or straight? I could care less. Race? Not an issue. But I do want someone pleasant looking to wake up to. That’s what I got used to during the past 6 years of roommates. Liz, Danny,*Melissa and Shannon are ALL very attractive. And they’re also good human beings.

Then there was the hot actor dude who emailed me asking about the apartment. He mentioned that he also lives in my neighborhood (right where I go to run the stairs). After googling him and checking out his images — and checking his IMDB profile — I was ready to hand him the keys to the apartment. He looked so handsome in those pictures. A perfect 10. Then I met him in person. He was more like an 8. But he smelled dirty. So I subtracted 2 points. But he was Australian with a hot Aussie accent so I gave him 1. But it still made him only a 7. And we both decided it wasn’t the right fit and moved on.

Then came the German dude. Age 34. Capricorn. Cinematographer. We both went to college together but didn’t know each other. We talked. We laughed. No awkward silences. He said he loved my place. That he could see us being happy together. But… he wanted to take a look at one more place the next morning before making up his mind. But it felt right he said. And then I got the breakup email. He wanted Venice. He knew he probably couldn’t find someone as great as Hollywood, but his heart was leading him to Venice. I wanted to slap him for making me wait the whole weekend for his response. But I couldn’t.

So I moved on. Quickly. Updated the ads on Craigslist and scheduled 4 more dates. I mean interviews. Male or female doesn’t matter. But chemistry is a must!

* Side note to Mom: Dear Mommy, I meant to tell you this in 2004. I had a boy roommate for a year and half, between Liz and Melissa. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to freak out or think I was living in sin with a guy. And I didn’t want my brother (your son), turning all Armo on him and asking Danny when he was going to marry  me. Danny was just a roommate. No other benefits other than financial. Actually, I lied. He also was very handy around the apartment. He fixed things, assembled IKEA furniture and had really good looking group of friends. More eye candy for me . So I guess there were some fringe benefits, just not those kind of benefits.

** Another side note for anyone looking for roommates: Roommates.com is horrible. I’ve had far more scam artists contact me from Roommates.com than from Craigslist. And I had to PAY $20 for Roommates.com. So don’t waste your money.

Saturday afternoon, combination of PMS and and a dose of reality check, lead me to the realization that the guy I like is NOT that into me. This was a very painful realization. But, I’m a big girl. I can tell when something’s off. I have a feeling that it’s a done deal. He hasn’t told me that, but I can feel it. I could be wrong, but my intuition tells me that I’m not. Of course, facing the truth was a little painful.

I decided the best way to treat the pain was a night out drinking with two fabulous girlfriends. We end up at a bar in Downtown where men outnumber women 10-1. I’m looking through the crowd and I see some familiar faces. It’s practically the entire wedding party, all the groomsmen, from the wedding I was in last summer (I was a bridesmaid). And in this group, there’s one particular groomsman who I used to like, who no longer lives in LA. In fact, he no longer lives in this state. And of all the bars in LA, he happens to be in the bar I’m at, the night I’m having all these sad realizations, about the guy I like. The one who’s just not that into me. I think the universe, in its infinite wisdom, had decided to play a not-so-funny joke on me. It was the night of “he’s just not that into you.” From the guy currently in my life, from one from the past.*

I think in a strange way, the universe was trying to tell me to let things go. Which is also what my wise brother Tito is telling me to do…t0 let it go. Easier said than done.

*So hot groomsman asks asks me if I still have his jacket, which he had left at my place some time this summer. I told him I do. And I tell him that I was really annoyed about having an item of clothing in my apartment that was made in Turkey. He asked if I had burned the jacket. I told him I had seriously considered it.