Am I five years old?
As it turns out, "keeping to yourself" is difficult when you move to a place where you know no one. In fact, it seems to be the easiest way to ensure 1) a closed mind, 2) no friends and 3) a fun bout with depression.
Plus, it can be patronizing to tell me or any other woman to please be careful and don't talk to people you don't know, especially men. I'm a grown-ass woman. Can't I take care of myself? Don't I have common sense? If I do meet strangers, am I asking for trouble? Would you say the same if I had boy parts? Stop.
A summary of 6 months' worth of my LA stranger situations
-- Subletting an apartment without meeting the roommate or seeing the place. Granted, this one ended up being a bit sketchy at the end, but I escaped with all major organs intact.
-- Contacting a handful of strangers on Craigslist to purchase their castoff furniture
-- Entering said strangers' homes to pick up the items, alone
-- Multiple meetups with message board friends
-- Inviting said internet friends over to my apartment
-- Spending four nights on the floor of a friend-of-a-friend's apartment
-- Entering a woman's home to vet a potential Air B+B rental for my mama -- after messaging with her for 15 minutes and without knowing her last name or exact address beforehand
-- Wiring $10,000 to a West African prince who promised to pay me back with interest once he received his inheritance in a month (...this one's BS. Who does that? Does that really work?)
...and I'm still alive and kickin'. There are ways to safely experience the above (granted, stupid-sounding) things. I'm more likely to be killed in my sleep by my roommate than by someone selling their couch on Craigslist. I hope Lester's not reading this.
In fact, the creepiest thing that has happened to me since moving to LA ended up being.....AN ENCOUNTER WITH A FELLOW WISCONSIN GRADUATE.
I was shocked too. And I think I'm finally ready to tell the story.
