![]() ![]() Pete Davidson is rumored to have a profile, though I never saw him. I liked being a part of something exclusive, swiping past a DJ, another DJ, a photographer, an art gallery owner, Trevor Noah, another DJ. Hollywood is who you know, and I knew two DJs. He wasn’t a celebrity, and neither was I two DJs put in a referral for me. This guy and I had matched on Raya, the celebrity invite-only dating app. Blink and you’ll miss me on “Blue Bloods” because my role was cut in the edit. I’m an actor because that’s what you’re supposed to say, even if you’re almost 30 with an empty IMDb page. Los Angeles is a big city, and maybe there would be enough space for my dreams too. Half a year later, I wanted to get away from New York and the feeling of being left behind. Our friendship wasn’t making us happy anymore. I wasn’t surprised it was over, just that it was in my inbox. ![]() ![]() She dumped me via email she was moving and wanted some distance. ![]() I started to appear less on the whiteboard. I didn’t know how to tell her, so I would drink. When we were in a room with shinier people, I felt invisible. She didn’t want to grab drinks she was headed to a diner with friends who were podcasters then but household names now. She was late to the monthly comedy show we did together, coming from an influential birthday party I wasn’t invited to. And soon she was canceling plans with me. Every comedic actress I knew in New York auditioned. On one of our last good days, we both auditioned to play a girl with such debilitating acne that she was canceling plans with her friends. We wanted the same things and were constantly pitted against each other. I loved being a part of the dreams she wrote on her giant whiteboard wall, and she made me feel like they were all possible.īut our similarity got between us. We spent so many nights dreaming up comedy sketches, scheming about crushes, crying over silly boys who didn’t like us back, and planning our bright futures. For almost three years, she and I had been a duo. I had just gone through a big breakup - a falling out with my best friend, which felt like a worse kind of heartache. I was staying in a friend’s mother’s guest room in Beverly Hills. He suggested L’antica Pizzeria Da Michele, famous for being the restaurant from “Eat, Pray, Love.” Not the original in Naples, Italy, where Julia Roberts fell in love with her margherita pizza, but the new franchise that had popped up in Hollywood. In the morning, we made plans to get dinner the next week. And that was before the strike made the entire industry a “no.” And all I wanted was to be in a movie.īeing an actor is a constant state of putting yourself out there, hoping to be loved and hearing “no” a thousand times - “No, you’re not right.” “No, someone else is a better fit.” It’s like dating but paid (hopefully) and without sex (though sometimes there is sex). The spontaneous way we had hopped from one bar to the next. But this monthlong stay in Los Angeles felt like a fresh start.Īt his apartment, as we took off our clothes, I felt like we were in a movie. In New York, I had been at an all-time low - single, burned out on auditions and having just gone through a falling out with my best friend. But the combination of wine, music and Los Angeles made me bolder. Normally I would decline, making up some nice girl excuse. At our next bar, grinding to early 2000s throwbacks, he asked if I wanted to go home with him. Our first date started at a trendy wine bar drinking rosé. ![]()
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