22 July 2007 - 4:38 pm

The date? That's so last week's news!

It was fine, nothing spectacular, but amiable and pleasant. No fireworks but no scary warning signs.

We met at the coffee shop, where we were the only ones talking, everyone else was either listening to iPods or on laptops, we talked about what to do that day, and as we set off to go to the Getty, I instead proposed taking a drive up to the beaches in Malibu perhaps. The thought of walking about the Getty, looking at art, having to generate conversation or insights with someone I didn't know that well just sounded exhausting. I was in a really lazy mood, and knew it. Sitting and looking at the view sounded far easier. And easier to generate something to talk about, because who doesn't like a view? I was willing to drive, but he assumed he was, so off we went in his automatic Lexus SUV.

Unfortunately, traffic was horrendous. It was, after all, a sunny Sunday afternoon, perfect for going to the beach. Which many thousands of people decided to do that day. We didn't necessarily want to get to a beach, just a pleasant drive. But it was delayed by all those beach-goers on the infamous PCH, the only road anyone knows how to use to get to Malibu. I could tell it was stressing him out, the stop and go traffic. We listened to Jazz music, it was pleasant, some of it I had even heard before, and his other CDs were the Ramones, which he didn't seem to be in the mood for, and X, another band I wasn't that familiar with. But he was bored with all of them, having listened to them all week long, and instead had me choose a CD from his case. He told me this album was Willie Nelson doing Reggae, and was quite good, after I passed by The Who at the BBC, Rolling Stones, Eric Clapton, The Beatles and The Best of the Carpenters. "Ignore that!" he commanded as he saw me flip through the Carpenters, embarrassed. We listened to Willie. After five songs, he was bored again, and put in The Who at the BBC. Strangely enough, there were a number of songs I had never heard before. But at least he was paying attention to my comment of being interested in that CD. I said my most favorite Who song was Boris the Spider, and he laughed, as it was the next song playing. We both sang to it on the way back to my car and the coffee shop we had started at.

But we had made it up to Malibu, to that string of beaches to the North with the Spanish names and went to the middle one (El Matador?). He was hoping it was the one with a lot of rocks, but I think that was the first one. We parked by using a handicapped placard he carries in his car for taking his frail mother places, thus obtaining the only available parking spot in the tiny lot. We also paid, as good citizens should in state run parks.

We climbed down the steep incline, me in my work heels since I certainly hadn't planned on an outdoor outing. I had left my shades and hat in my car, but was happy to be wearing 3/4 length sleeves and a high necked sweater, so the sun was less likely to get to my pale flesh. (Hey, it was a date, I dressed up in work clothes!) It might have been a state run park, but they certainly didn't believe in a railing or stairs or anything helpful getting down. Kinda strange, for the litigious state of California to have parks begging for accidents to happen in getting down to the beach. I think the park further North is the one with a paved path and guard rail and actual bathroom. But we weren't there, we were at the one with a port-a-potty. No matter. We made it down, with our cameras, and wandered our separate ways, taking photos. There were many temporary sculptures made up of twigs and washed in debris made by bored children, along with the usual sandcastles and sand sculptures and deeply dug pits for the ocean water to fill. Plenty of material to shoot, besides the tide washing in and splashing against the small rocks. I took pictures of the staircases from the private properties above, stairs that were broken half way down the hill. Was it storm, earthquake or mudslide that had moved them so significantly? No matter, they were still interesting.

Back to Santa Monica, traffic back not nearly as bad, and four hours later, the date was complete. We said our goodbyes, saying we both had an enjoyable time, and perhaps we would meet up again for a movie or a meal in the future? I thought the proposal sincere enough.

He sent me a couple of photos he took that day, later in the week, and I hadn't realized he kept shooting pictures with me in them. Him taking pictures of me taking a picture. Maybe he rarely had a human subject to pose for him, but I had been unaware I had been posing for him.

I haven't gotten around to looking at my photos from that day, the sun too bright when I shoot to get a good look at my tiny lcd screen in daylight, so I haven't been able to respond back whether I ended up with any good shots myself. I've been busy instead, at work, with the house purchase, etc.