A few weeks ago I was surprised to read that a weekly comedy show was taking place at a bar here; I trekked down to check it out one night but there was no evidence of it happening, and since the venue consisted of small tables of people on dates or with friends, I didn’t stick around. I haven’t seen it advertised since. Then the little boho spot around the corner closed down. This weekend I checked out a group that (I hear) was once large, vibrant, fun, and eclectic; only myself, one other woman, and an elderly couple showed up. One half of the couple joked, “I bet you were hoping to meet some single men.” My solo state is both remarkable and irremediable, it seems.
In a couple of weeks I’m going to try another group and in July I’m looking forward to a big weekend event. And of course, beach weather is coming and I’ll be spending lots of time in the ocean.
By fall, though, I think I’ll have a pretty good sense of whether there’s anything for me here socially. I do treasure my alone time but am not sure I’m ready to become a complete hermit just yet. When the days grow short, I may have to start driving into L.A. every weekend in order not to wilt.