Dating in L.A. With No Nipples
“Hi, I’m Lisa. I’m a single mom, my ex is a felon and I just had a double mastectomy.”
I’d blurt that out, or some similar introduction with the same bullet points, often within the first five minutes of a date. Usually when my date would ask me to tell them a little bit about myself.
And before my date could respond, I’d quickly add, “But other than that, I’m doing great. My daughter and I are doing great!”
I’d say it with my glass-half-full smile, trying to convince myself, more than anyone else, that I was ok, while attempting to make my date feel like he’d won the lottery.
This was my small talk, my dating banter. My scars were no longer purely emotional and internal. They were now physically visible. My life had reached a new level of tragic absurdity that was impossible to hide.
If you would have told me a year earlier that this would be my life, I’d say you were completely out of your mind. I’d tell you that I was married for over a decade to a man I knew better than anyone else in the world. I’d tell you we had a beautiful nine-month-old baby girl and my husband was a doting, hands-on father. I’d tell you about all the crazy guys I dated before I met him, and that he was the good guy. Sure, he had his flaws. Sure, we had our ups and downs. But they seemed normal.
Man, was I wrong!
I had never been so wrong.
It’s like you wake up one morning and everything you know to be true, no longer is. The anchors you thought held your life together, were just a mirage. Surprise after surprise after surprise.
I’d heard it before, when I first got sober at the ripe age of 21, at an A.A. meeting in Hollywood. My first sponsor said it to me and I hated her for it. “Control is an illusion.” For the first time in my life, I wholeheartedly understood. I felt it so deeply from every part of my being. I had no idea how my life would unfold. Not just day to day, but hour to hour. Minute to minute.
The only thing I refused to believe was that I wouldn’t be ok. That my daughter and I wouldn’t be okay. That wasn’t an option. It couldn’t be an option. Our lives would not be a fucking tragedy. And I would do whatever was needed, to make sure of that.
“I was stunned this was a true tale…funny and very raw… real, honest and painful…incredible… To witness Lisa’s rewarding transformation and bravery is a gift…a beacon for others who will crumble and melt away with their own personal hardships.” — NoHo Arts District
“Lisa David is so likable and her autobiographical show is so ingenious and inspiring” — Stage Raw