I have realized that after four years in this town, I’m finally turning Hollywood. Yes, I am becoming like so many people out here. I’m impressed by aesthetics. On top of liking nice cars and nice clothes, I’m also becoming a liar. Nikki, the shallow Hollywood liar. Guilty as charged. Please feel free to convict me of my crimes against humanity and lock me up with a gold-plated Cartier key. Just make sure my cell has central air.

I met a really cute boy at Barney’s Beanery one night and we had a blast. All of his friends were very down-to-earth, cool, attractive and buying drinks for me and my friend, Kat. I start talking to this young Ben Stiller type named Bobby and we hit it off right away. After a few drinks, maybe a few shots for good measure, I was fully engrossed in my new potential boy-toy. As we get to talking, he tells me he’s Jewish. Before I can blink an eye I say, “So am I. I’m Jewish.” I could feel the words falling from my lips as I say this. It was like at the doctor’s office and he checks your reflexes. I’m not Jewish, I’m not even close to being Jewish. The closest thing I ever got to being Jewish was eating at Genghis Cohen. Well, Bobby looked at me like he won the genetic lottery. “Wow.” He coos, “You’re beautiful and Jewish? My parents will love you.” Normally, the word “parents” coming from a crush’s mouth would make me run for the hills, but it was very endearing at the time. He called me two days later and says, “I would have called the next day, but I didn’t want to seem too eager.” I thought that was adorable. We scheduled a date for the later in the week.

As it turns out, he lives in my neck of the woods. Well, where I live ain’t cheap so I’m impressed. As he tells me where he lives I tell him there are no apartments in that street. He tells me he lives in a house. All I could think was SCORE! He comes to pick me up and compliments me on what I’m wearing. Boy, this guy has manners. How rare in this town. As we are walking to his car, I wonder which one could it be? The shiny new BMW? No. The Jeep? Nope. He is driving the most beat up beater I have ever seen. A huge mustard yellow banana that would make a Dodge Omni look classy, and I’m scared. I try to tell myself, Nikki he spent all his money on his house, it’s cool. Just have a good time. As I get in the car my dress clings to me. It’s hotter then hell and then I remember that he thinks I’m Jewish. All I could say (in my best New York accent) “Can I turn on the air, I’m schvitzing in here.” No kidding. When I turn on the air the car shakes like it’s having a grand mal seizure, so I turn it off and say, “I think the car’s going to explode, Oi vey!” He looks at me and says, “God, you really are Jewish.”

We go to dinner and I find out he’s in school to be a chef. He also tells me he’s twenty-two. Yikes. I am by no means a cougar, but I can’t date guys any less then two years younger then me. It feels unnatural. After another sake bomb, I’m wondering how the hell he lives in that house but I don’t want to be rude. Jewish girls aren’t rude, right?

After dinner I decide that this will go nowhere. He’s too young, naïve and has a crappy ride. See, see what I did there? Shallow Nikki was rearing her ugly head. Besides, he thinks that he’s getting this nice Jewish girl. Too bad I’m a shiksa to the core. So what does a girl do when she wants to get rid of a guy on the first date? Sleep with him. And I did and he was actually fantastic. A moment of glory and passion and I didn’t invite him to spend the night. My room was a mess. We did it in my roommate’s bathroom. Nice Jewish gals don’t do that either, right?

So the next day I‘m surprised when I get a call from him. The message goes as follows, “Hi Nikki its Bobby. I had a great time and I-- Bobby, I didn’t know you were on this line.” And then he yells, and I shit you not, “Mom, get off the phone!” Another reason to lose that number. I can’t date a guy that doesn’t have his own crib.

So tell me what you think Los Angeles? Am I shallow and rude? Or am I just honest? What would you do?