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Cue my industry-mandated pilgrimage to Los Angeles, where everyone is extroverted, tanned, toned and knows how to flambé kale in half a second flat.

I don't stand out in person (or in a photo), but I like to consider myself a people person.

Being an extrovert who can string sentences together without dropping names like Hegel, Foucault and Didion meant that I was a comparative Casanova (bear in mind, I'm pale, schlubby, short and laugh a little too loudly).

I had a string of flings, a string of relationships, but rare was the night that I felt particularly lonely.

I, meanwhile, am cursing God for a larger-than-average shoulder width as two people I barely know fight for seat-back space along with me.

Affairs is our weekly column about the current dating scene in and around Los Angeles -- and finding romance in a wired world. He's shouting into a phone, at the other end of which is a bouncer who could probably juggle all five of us at once and whose patience is understandably wearing thin.

There's a lexicon I was not attuned to, processes that I had no innate knowledge of, and social graces and appearances that my dedication to living in beautiful squalor (technically my home is a renovated walk-in closet) won't allow.

(First impressions are everything.)You'd think Tinder or JSwipe would force me to streamline my thought process and go on gut instinct, but landing on an office crush stagnated my entire swiping experience.



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