Diego Gorbea

So okay, there's yet another guy at work named Diego Gorbea. I have to admit, I don't know what to do with this one. The Puerto Rican charmer has a car, is able to hold his own in conversation, and used to work on Wall Street. He shrieks at scary movies, hides his eyes during torture scenes, and kisses me on the cheek at the end of the night.

But let me start from the beginning: I first saw Diego when he started working at ArcLight with his cell phone constantly attached to his ear. He only spoke in Spanish, and I remember thinking, "Cute, little Mexican dude. I hope he picks up some English here." Then I saw him going out with Steve Bolia, one of the preeminent gay men at ArcLight Hollywood. So, I'm thinking, "He's gay." But no! Wrong again! First of all, he's from Puerto Rico and speaks fluent English and he's straight (even though he does scream in scary movies).

So I first started talking to him in the break room. He would come up when I was in mid-conversation with others and we would eventually just start talking about movies, actors, and the like. He came down one time I was working an event and started asking me when so-and-so-famous-name-talent was going to be there. We started talking, and talking, and talking.

Eventually, he would seek me out, when I was working Retail or Guest Services, he would talk with me for hours. On Thanksgiving, he talked with me for 2 hours before leaving to go to Steve's party, which I did not attend.

So then he kept making references to "Hey, it's my favorite person!" to which I would tease him, "Oh, I thought it was Cate Blanchett," and he would retort, "OK, well, top 5." Then he would constantly say, "Heather, I can't believe you're quitting, etc." I text messaged him on Dec. 8, asking him if he was going to Shutera's party that weekend. He replied, "Yeah, if I'm not working." We talked quite a bit that day. Then he bailed on me for the party, said he was in bed, and had to open the next morning. So I called him with Steve to give him some shit about that, and we talked for 1 1/2 hours (until 3 a.m.). Then he called me on Sunday and asked me about the party, to tell him the gossip, etc. We talked again for a half-hour. He then called me that night and we talked for 1 1/2 hours. So we decided to go to a movie on Monday. We went, he asked me to massage his neck because he had a kink in it, placed his arm on the arm rest in the movie close to mine, and then, when the movie was over, walked me to my car. He told me that he was a screenplay writer, interested in feature films, but that he wasn't like Woody Allen, who wrote about the small moments in life, "Like kissing before the date starts so you don't have that tension between people." But the only move he made was to give me a tender kiss on my cheek and a hug at the end of the date. I told him I'd call him from Cincinnati. There was only one thing that bothered me the whole time we were talking by my car: he kept shooting wayward glances back toward the theatre, as if looking for someone. I think it was toward Jessica Godber, who was working Guest Services that night. I think he hoped to get to talk to her before she left for the night, which makes me think that he's just a flirt and not interested in a relationship.

I really like this guy and am scared to death that I'm going to do something to fuck it up. However, after having my heart broken so much in this town where dreams are made but promises fade, I feel this impending sense of doom in every potential relationship. I keep thinking the wool is going to get taken off my eyes, that the rug will be pulled out from under me, and I will be laughed at, humiliated and made to feel like a loser. I really have never seen a phenomenon like this before: it is so hard to get into a relationship in L.A. Why? Is love for sale here? Are there too many choices, flavors to choose from? Is the flavor of the week really the flavor of the moment? I can't handle this, and in a town like L.A., I want to have a boyfriend, someone who cares about what happens to me, someone I can talk to on a regular basis, someone who will laugh with me at this crazy town. I haven't been alone since I was 26, and now I feel like all I am is alone...alone in this city of 3.8 million people. I feel like I walk down the street and have to present an image wholly unlike me. What's so wrong with the real Heather Roth? Does the real Heather Roth have to become the "reel" Heather Roth in order to make it? Is all we see of actors really just an illusion? A delusion? A cruel joke? Isn't the way they act the way they really are? But in the end, I would really like to have Diego as a friend even if nothing more.

I always hesitate to say that a person is a bad actor, I just think that perhaps the way you would play the scene is different than the way that they are playing the scene. Using this mode, the only people I would categorize as bad actors are people like Hayden Christensen and Hilary Swank for I always feel that they are not really present in the scene. They look like they are mentally making out their store list or thinking of the chores they have to do once they get off the set. Not good for emoting a sentiment in a scene.