The Little Door: Where Old Guys Get Lucky

Ever been to Little Door, the famously romantic restaurant on 3rd st in LA?



Or maybe I should just ask you if you've ever had an affair with an Old Guy.



Because at Little Door, lauded as the cuisine may be, the food ain't all that's being cooked up, if you know what I mean.



And I know this from personal experience (that's right.) I'll spare you all the nitty gritty details, but I once had dinner at Little Door with a man 21 years my senior who was in a committed relationship with someone else (not one of my finer moments.) Not shockingly, we weren't the only May-December romance blossoming in the soft, candlelit restaurant (this is LA, after all.) And I know we weren't the last, either, as a friend of mine who shall remain nameless was ALSO seduced by a man 20 years her senior at Little Door! I'm not kidding--this is a phenomenon worthy of a full-scale investigation. Little Door: where wealthy Old Guys of LA go to get laid. Little Door: where "Stella-N" Gets His Groove Back. Little Door: where they leave a discreet tablet of Viagra alongside your bottle of Chianti (not really, but they should.) Little Door: where I memorably found myself drunkenly trying to hoist up my pantyhose in the ladies' room, narrowly avoiding toppling over (especially challenging when you've been plied with said Chianti.)

Little Door: where Old Guys pay for dinner in cash.

Need I say more?

That being said, it's actually a lovely restaurant. I suggest you go, enjoy your (Viagra-free) Chianti, and oogle the other people there. Try to figure out which of the Old Guys there left the missus at home in favor of some foxy young LA chick. I have it on good authority that at least one of them did just that.

Now, I've only been to Little Door once (learned my lesson-closing in on AARP eligibility does not a trustworthy gentleman make) but I've been to Little NEXT Door (located next to Little Door, obviously) a couple notable times, the most recent being my first date-a proper lunch date-with the Triathlete (yes, we're still on him. Sorry.) Little NEXT Door was his suggestion--a lovely suggestion, as it is casual yet sophisticated, funky yet cool. I remember crossing 3rd st and striding towards the restaurant, catching sight of him first from behind. His hair was brown and long-ish and curly, and he was wearing good jeans and boots and a deep blue shirt. My very first thought when I saw him standing there was "Oh, I hope that's my guy." And it was. At least for a short while.

I keep reminding myself that one cannot, with any modicum of self-respect, stay in relationship that makes you feel unwanted and shitty. But I have never been great at moving on, so I will freely admit that I've questioned myself over and over again this week. But I know in my heart that I cannot simultaneously respect myself and also be involved with the Triathlete. He doesn't have anything to give right now and I...well, let's just say no one's ever described me as low-maintenance (or at least anyone who's ever actually met me in the flesh.) So, as I remind myself over and over again, I have no choice but to walk away, and be open-minded about what the future holds. Is this the end of the road for me and the Triathlete? I don't know. I kind of hope not. But I can't spend my days waiting around for him, so onwards-ho! (Insert your own joke here.) While I don't intend on dining at Little Door anytime soon (or engaging in an affair that would inevitably lead me back to Little Door's hallowed gate) I wouldn't be surprised if I end up back at Little NEXT Door sometime soon. After all, they have a mean macaroon in flavors like lavendar and pistachio. And I like a sweet dessert almost as much as I like a sweet man. And sometimes, the dessert lasts longer and has more staying power...or at least on my thighs. Oh, well. Sigh.