Saturday morning I called Ben to confirm our dinner for that night.

The phone was ringing for some time before he picked up.

- Did I wake you up? This is Mary; remember, we met in Urth Cafe.

- Of course I remember you Mary. I even remember that I invited you to audition for my new Retirement Community reality show, laughed Ben.

- Yes, I am very interested in auditioning for your lead role.

- Sure, My main character is Miss America from 1935 with a slight touch of Alzheimer’s. Would you like to be her?

- No I don’t think so. That would be too predictable. How about a beautiful, 16-year-old, very rich widow blown in from Kansas with her entire estate by mistake into a Forever 21 Beverly Hills retirement community?

- Sounds original, but that would be another reality show. You could be a 20-year-old, gorgeous blonde Biological Weapons researcher for PETA with a bra size of 32 DDD?

- I could be inspired to play that role as well; it’s can happened only in Hollywood.

- I can the audition for you today around 8pm at the 24/7 Restaurant in Standard Hotel downtown. Will that work for you?

- Need to work on my bra size a little, but I will be ready by 8.

- Look forward to seeing you.

- Bye.

I was fantasizing about my future date with Ben in a million different ways, but each of my fantasies started with the question of what I was going to wear. I had just received flyers from Loehmann’s for a 40%-off sale, and and I decided to act. My friends were always asking me what is it with you and Loehmann’s. It’s just my love for designer clothing I cannot afford. I consider myself a working body of contradictions, and I need to find middle ground. Shopping in a discount store gives balance to my desires.

Paul was interested in doing some damage with me as well, looking forward to his new date with Ivan. It was like a new moon of love for both of us.

Recently, the Loehmann’s on La Cienega had moved its Men’s department across the street, so we needed to go our separate ways. It was a bummer, because we were on a mission together to capture the bargains before Russian, Hungarian, Polish, and Persian spy rings could get to them. It was a major discount store conspiracy; Paul and I were in the middle of it and we both knew too much for our own good.

My first stop was in the Women’s Lingerie department. That is where any love affair starts for me, with inner beauty. I was looking for something sexy but classy. I picked up a pricy black La Perla bra with matching panties. I usually don’t have sex on the first date, but Ben was a good candidate for an exception. So, if this was going to happen, I needed to feel fully equipped and in charge.

In fact I had had no sex since splitting with John, exactly 11 months ago. And yes, I did try to find some dates on the Internet and even bought a membership on Match.com, but I never met anybody I even remotely liked, and the last thing I wanted to do with a guy I met is to have sex on the first date when I knew there no chance it would go any further. I heard some success stories from my girlfriends about Internet dating, but I had never been so lucky. Maybe I just wasn’t ready for a new relationship.

My next stop was in the backroom of the designer section. Most clothes I liked were still too expensive, but I picked out an asymmetrical, open shoulder black and white checker dress by Yoshjii Yammoto. I liked the fact that the dress was not flashy but very stylish and sexy, and I already had matching high heel Prada shoes.

I prefer not to wear black dresses when I go out at night in LA. I think the concept of the little black dress has been blown out of proportion. It feels like a black dress sorority with some kind of overwhelmingly large membership.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the color black; I just prefer to wear it during the day, when people can actually see you and appreciate the design.

I took all my booty into a big common dressing room, where everybody dresses and undresses in public. I don’t want to come across as judgmental or snobbish, but you really can learn a lot about women’s anatomy and the differences in taste.

My mother always told me that dressing yourself is an art. The trick is to choose clothing that highlights your beauty and covers your imperfections.

It was fun to observe women in that room with what they had selected.

Next to me was a young Russian lady, I think maybe size 10, trying to fit into a size 4 short dress. She he got into it all right, but she could not move freely, and the dress was so tight that you could have used her as nude model. She asked me if it looked OK on her; I tried to be polite and said it might be a little small. Surprisingly, she responded that she REALLY liked her clothing tight.

Across from me was a middle aged woman with dark hair, too skinny and too much Botox, was trying on a very revealing shiny gold evening dress. Looking at her, I could not stop thinking about an exhibition of Egyptian mummies I had just seen at the L.A. Museum of Science.

The Yoshijii Yammoto dress looked great on me. Some of the ladies in the room gave compliments. I decided to get it.

When I paid the cashier, even after I gave her my 40% discount flyer, the bill was still $180.00. It was a little high, but I thought it was worth it.

Paul bought some good stuff as well: a tight black pair of Rick Owens pants and a Comme des Garcons long sleeved purple T-shirt to die for.

We return home in a good mood and ready for action.