Coupled or married girlfriends always assume you cannot be happy unless you too are coupled or married. When I moved out to L.A. my old D.C. girlfriends went on frantic searches to find boy in L.A. for me. The search was odd at best. My sister-in-law set me up with a friend of a friend's cousin's friend. These are not exactly winning recommendations, but I still went out with him. I figure at the very least the dates would supplement the J-Date meal plan.

My girlfriend Hilary in D.C. called me with the exciting news that her old brilliant Harvard classmate is out in L.A. and is a writer. Hilary knows my weakness for academics and artists so I listened to her boy pitch. Hilary cautioned, “Either you'll love Tom or you'll hate Tom.” Tom or Tommy has an acerbic wit that is sexy or a repellent. I am also a sucker for witty banter, so I continued to listen to the pitch. Tom was Jewish, but he was also a bit sick. He had ulcertiv colitis and wore a colostomy bag. Hilary wanted to be upfront about his condition, which really didn't bother me. Once I heard he was sick, I immediately romanticized my nonexistent relationship with Tom. I am such a wonderful person, I could nurse him back to health. I realized that once Tom and I fell in love that we would have the perfect story for a Today Show Wedding. I gave Hilary the green light and Tom called.

Much as Hilary described, we engaged in witty banter for about an hour. I am not sure if the conversation was flirting or simply argumentative.

I met Tom at a very cool hipster Thai restaurant and immediately spotted him at the bar. I went to give Tom a hug and he remarked, "Hilary said even though you were 30 you looked in your early-20’s... Oh well." Tom and I were off to a rousing start.

We grabbed a booth and from there he proceeded to agure politics with me. Mind you, I worked for Uncle Sugar for seven years, so I actually know a thing or two about politics. Tom insulted my dining choices, my college and just about every other piece of conversation I offered. Not to mention, he spoke to our American/Thai waiter like he was a complete and total moron: "I WILL HAVE THE PAD THAIIIIII."

The bill took so long to arrive I actually felt my eggs going bad. I didn't even reach for my wallet; I figured I earned this dinner.

We left the restaurant and Tom said earnestly, "So you want to do this again?"

I remarked, "Nooo, I never want to do this again... ever. Let me look at my calendar. I am available never... Does never work for you?"

Tom said, "Is it because I have a colostomy bag?"

As much as I wanted to say, "Look Tom, I want to be the only one in relationship that accessorizes," I didn't. I said, "No Tom, it's actually because you're an asshole."

He replied, "Huh, yeah I was hoping you were going to say it was cause of the bag.”

I drove home with the relief that I would never have to go out with ColosTommy again.