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Jackie Collins wrote many books set in glamorous and decadent Los Angeles, but one of her books sticks in my head on the regular: The World is Full of Married Men.

Why does it stick in my head? Because not only does it seem like the world is, in fact, full of married men, but Los Angeles seems like the place where they feel especially entitled to hit on me.

Does anyone else experience this? Is this an LA-based phenomenon? Because, let me tell you, it’s enough to make a romantic like me turn to celibacy or women.

I’m not sure if it’s a general sense of entitlement or if it’s simply that other women find that golden ring to be a turn-on, but I’ve lost count of the number of married men who have hit on me in the last year.

Let me tell you about Dave (not his real name).

I met Dave at a party several months ago. I didn’t know many people there, and neither did he, so I spent most of the party talking with him and his friend Jeff (also not his real name). They both seemed like nice guys, and they both wore wedding rings, so I figured that we were just making casual party smalltalk. There was definite synergy there, and I was pleased at making new friends. I even exchanged contact info with Dave. 

New friend, I thought. Rad, I thought.

(I am so, so naïve.) 

Dave and I texted over the next couple days. Innocent stuff. Chit chat stuff. Getting to know a new friend stuff.

And then we met for drinks that Friday.

New friend, I thought. Totally innocent, I thought.

(I am so, so naïve.)

Drinks were fine. When I tried to make my exit, he insisted on dinner. I enjoyed his company, so I agreed to dinner. (Was this my mistake? Was I leading him on?)

After dinner, I drove him to his car. (Maybe this was my mistake?)

When I bid him goodbye, he tried to kiss me.

“WTF, Dave?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Dave, you’re married.”


I was speechless for a second.

(I am so, so naïve.)

“Dave, I’m not going to kiss a married man.”

He grinned. “We won’t tell her.” 

I shook my head. This was not okay. What made him think this was okay?

“No, Dave. I’m not going to kiss you.”

I’ll spare you the rest, but let me tell you, this went on for a few minutes. It was not easy to get Dave out of my car. I didn’t even try to convince Dave why his behavior was wrong. It was difficult enough just getting rid of him.

Dave was one guy I wasn’t sad to see disappear, but the crazy part is how many times this has happened to me. How many married men have tried to convince me that hooking up with them would be a good idea. That they didn’t love their wives. That they weren’t going to tell their wives. That their wives didn’t care.

I’ve got no problems with polyamory. But you can check your sleaze at the door.

Your golden ring is not a turn-on.