In Los Angeles, life is like a used car advertisement: $3500, or best offer (O.B.O.); Plastic surgeon with a house in the hills, O.B.O.; entertainment executive with private jet, O.B.O. Whether a party invitation, a date, or marriage, nobody is willing to commit because they are always waiting for that better offer. I find this so irritating. It is a reason to loathe this city. Try planning a dinner party when you don't know for sure who is going to attend.
When I throw a dinner, it's an occasion you want to attend, nothing but the finest wines and a meal that takes me all week to plan.I recall one time when I was hosting a dinner for eight of my close friends. A girl who I thought to be a good friend didn't show. At first I thought she was delayed by traffic, but after an hour, several messages and no reply, I assumed the worst - she had a freak car accident and was in the emergency room or there had been a death in the family. She was Canadian, notoriously reliable by nationality, so there was no way she could have just flaked. Weeks later when I finally heard from her, I discovered that I was wrong. This was one Canadian that had been in Los Angeles too long. Time to rescind her passport.