May 17, 6: The loss was traumatic, but it only took a month to realize that not owning a vehicle is awesome. Even in Los Angeles, one of America's most car-dependent cities, it's possible to lead a rich pedestrian lifestyle. Doing my commuting by foot, bus and subway allows me to save thousands of dollars each year. My calves are always ready for beach season. On-demand ride services such as Lyft and Uber are my insurance policy for whenever I need more immediate or stylish transportation.
Advertisement Until recently, I was happy, proud even, to live in L. Then I met K. Affairs By Lauri Mattenson May 10, 6: Who actually meets at the gym or farmers markets anymore? K, aside from catching my eyes, liked many of the same things I enjoy: We lived within three miles of each other. Everything about her profile screamed at me, "Make the first move!!! But pedestrian vanity got the better of me. I was beating the system!
Surely K would appreciate the perks of my lifestyle. If we went to dinner and established chemistry, I'd foot the whole bill with money saved from not paying for gas or auto insurance. If a second date happened, I'd pick her up in the most swag-tastic car that Lyft offered and we'd be spirited away to our destination — possibly a trail to some scenic outlook where we'd share childhoods memories and kiss as the sun sank into the Pacific.
Affairs By Laura Jacobs Apr 21, We traded several urbane bon mots before agreeing to rendezvous at Iron Triangle Brewery in the Arts District on a Thursday evening. But as the date crept closer, my excitement became entangled with ethical doubt. Should I have disclosed my terrible secret prior to asking K out?
Would chemistry and suave gestures make any difference when I finally came clean? Was I a dishonorable person for going through with this? These questions haunted me as I showered, dressed up and coiffed my hair on date night.
After locking up the house, I hopped on the bus and headed east on Wilshire Boulevard toward Iron Triangle. My seatmate, a bespectacled teenager, spent the ride digging into a giant bag of cheddar popcorn, spilling kernels and powdered cheese everywhere.
To my relief, K hadn't arrived at Iron Triangle early enough to see me disembark from the bus. I entered the brewery, procured a small table and waited. Affairs columns She walked in at 7: For a moment, my guilt dissipated. But as we hugged, I could hear her car keys jangling in her purse.
K, bless her soul, didn't appear daunted by this slip. We promptly ordered two beer flights and by the time they arrived, the two of us were swapping embarrassing stories about junior high school dances. She touched my hand while laughing. I returned the gesture. Things were going well — exceedingly well. As we ordered the second round of beer, a second date — hiking — was already being discussed.
But I still hadn't told K the whole truth. Nobody was present to witness whatever happened next. You don't have a car? I had demoted myself from rebel without a car to plebeian impostor. I felt my cheeks turning magenta as K stared in horror and indignation. I suppose I deserved it. I offered to walk her back to her car, but by the time I uttered the words, she was already halfway there. I watched her Honda Civic disappear into the night and headed for the bus stop, considering my existential predicament.
Sure, there are other fish in the sea. But how many of them walk? The author is a writer, producer and pedestrian at large who splits his time between Los Angeles and Boston. His website is mileshoward.