I had a date tonight.

I met John, we'll call him, at the after-party at the premiere. I approached him because all night I had kept mistaking him for Dave Matthews, and after a few trips to the bar, it seemed like a good idea to tell him that.

So I did. He apparently had not heard this and was charmed, I'm sure, by my observation. Also, my wit and humor.

After learning that I just moved here, John offered me his business card from one of the studio lots and said that now I had a friend in LA. He was nice and had a baby face. I took it. Friendless and with nothing to lose, I emailed him the next day. He called me. We agreed to meet up.

John is 27. He works in a studio. He seems like he's moving up the ladder. We walked around this outdoor shopping area and got some sushi. He talked about himself the whole time and about stars he knows. I kept laughing because he so stereotypical and self-centered. He didn't notice.

He paid. He name dropped. He told me his wallet cost $100. He said he loved his car about 12 times. He mentioned New Years spent in Dublin and stays in San Francisco at the W and acted like not doing valet was somehow slumming it.

He dropped me off with an invitation to call him. Right. He also offered to send my resume around. It was tempting, but I declined.

Next.