Belmont Shore – Espresso & Excuses

Lauren from Belmont Shore writes: I first met Mark in line at Lord Windsor Coffee. He complimented my vintage surfing shirt and then spilled his cold brew down his own shirt and insisted it was the barista’s fault. He then proceeded to tell me he was a “writer” and asked if I could spot him a couple dollars for the bus. When I mentioned safe sex he mumbled something about not paying for morning‑after pills and moving to Costa Rica. Ladies, trust me, this man will ghost faster than a free Wi‑Fi signal.

Tyler: I once gave him a ride home and he insisted on DJ’ing from his phone. All he played was early‑2000s pop‑punk and then asked to borrow gas money because his “royalties” were late.

Jessica: After a night of tequila shots at Panama Joe’s he crashed at my place. Two weeks later I found out I was pregnant. He stopped replying and blocked me. His last text said he was sterile from “microdosing”.

Nick: He borrowed my surfboard claiming he used to lifeguard. He returned it snapped in half and said the waves were “too corporate today”.

Amber: I saw him panhandling on Second Street while strumming a guitar with no strings. He told my mom he was raising money for his “spiritual child support fund”.

Retro Row – Cassette Tapes & Conspiracies

Ricky from Retro Row: Mark wandered into Fingerprints Music on 4th Street wearing a polo like he was headed to a yacht club. He spent 30 minutes arguing with the clerk about why Nirvana isn’t “real” grunge and then started hawking his band’s demo cassette. He smelled like weed and patchouli oil and told everyone he was “between jobs” because Hollywood doesn’t recognise his genius. He asked if I wanted to go halfsies on a baggie of mushrooms; I declined. When I came back later he’d left behind a napkin with his SoundCloud handle and a ring of spilled kombucha.

Maya: He tried to trade me a “limited edition” band tee for my vintage skateboard. The shirt turned out to be from Hot Topic.

Serena: He convinced me to invest in his “rare vinyl” business; turns out it was just scratched Bee Gees records from a yard sale.

Tom: He told me he was once in a band with the drummer from Sublime. When I asked which drummer, he said “the one from Santa Cruz” and then changed the subject.

Gigi: He grabbed my vegan donut and took a bite without asking, then ranted about calories being capitalist constructs.

The Ring – Gloves but No Glory

Jen, who works security at a little boxing gym off Broadway, says: One night some guy in beige pants and blue gloves wandered into the ring during a charity spar. He said his name was Mark and that he’d been an extra in Million Dollar Baby so he “knew how to throw a punch”. He refused to pay the cover, climbed between the ropes and then immediately tripped over his own shoes. We had to escort him out when he tried to light a joint in the locker room. He kept asking if we knew any “cool parties” and then showed us his phone notes filled with bad screenplay ideas.

Coach Al: He keeps showing up to our gym wearing those blue latex gloves. He says it’s for “sanitary sparring”, but he just fumbles with the wraps and never pays a membership.

Marcus: He brags about training with UFC fighters, refuses to spar with women because he’s “a feminist”, then tries to get their numbers in the parking lot.

Erika: He once tried to sell us homemade pre‑workout that was just ground up Adderall and Emergen‑C.

Ray: He bet me fifty bucks he could last a round with our amateur champion. He lasted 12 seconds. Still hasn’t paid me.

Shoreline Village – Dark Shirts & Darker Tales

Danny from Shoreline Village sent this: I work at an ice cream stand down by the marina. A guy in a black button‑down came up and ordered a single scoop and then spent twenty minutes telling me about how he’d just been “wrongfully evicted” after neighbours falsely accused him of being a landlord. He talked about gentrification, veganism and his punk‑rock ethics while tipping me in Canadian change. When I asked if he wanted sprinkles he got philosophical about the difference between sprinkles and jimmies. He ended the conversation by asking if he could crash on my couch for “a couple of weeks”. Hard pass.

Jess: He sat at my bar for hours nursing one beer and telling everyone he knew Jack White personally. When the bill came, he asked if we accepted weed as payment.

Carmen: He fed the sea lions leftover fries, then told everyone he was an animal rights activist. When security asked him to stop, he yelled “this is my art installation” and stormed off.

Omar: He asked me to take his photo by the lighthouse so he could send it to his “Costa Rican landlord” as proof of income.

Kelly: We met him on a Duffy boat cruise; he crashed the party, drank all the hard seltzers and said he didn’t believe in tipping because “money is a social construct”.

Signal Hill – Farmers Markets & Flimsy Pickup Lines

Ava writes: I met Mark at the Sunday farmers market up on Signal Hill. He wore a salmon‑coloured henley and carried a tote bag with nothing but a single avocado. He told me he was an actor but not like the “Hollywood sellouts”. He asked me if I wanted to drive to Joshua Tree that night to watch a meteor shower and microdose. When I laughed he pulled out a guitar pick and tried to play air guitar with a vendor’s ukulele. He also borrowed $20 to buy kombucha and promised to venmo me; still waiting.

Kenny: He tried to recruit me to his “collective” where we were supposed to drink mushroom tea and jam, but there was a $50 “membership fee”.

Linda: He sold me a “locally grown” microgreen kit that was actually just lawn clippings in a jar.

Travis: He borrowed my bike to “run a quick errand” and came back two hours later reeking of weed and with my handlebars wrapped in hemp rope. He said it improved the vibrations.

Dana: At a yoga class, he kept loudly whispering that he could feel everyone’s aura. He asked for my number during child’s pose; I pretended to be asleep.

Broadway Corridor – Disguises & Delusions

Carlos’s story: There’s a little corner store on Broadway where I work nights. Mark came in wearing the most obvious fake moustache and wire‑rimmed glasses. He kept glancing over his shoulder like he was in a spy movie. He asked if we carried “morning‑after pills” (we don’t) and then whispered about needing them for his “roommate”. When I told him to try the pharmacy he launched into a rant about Big Pharma and told me he was starting a healing crystal business. He bought a pack of rolling papers and a box of cereal and left, but not before telling me he was “thinking about moving to Costa Rica” because Long Beach didn’t appreciate his art.

Dana: He came into the laundromat wearing those fake glasses again and asked if anyone wanted to invest in his screen‑printed T‑shirt startup. No one did.

Marcus (another): He came into my tattoo shop, asked for a palm tree over his heart, then bailed when he realised he had to pay up front.

Selena: He asked me to be in his “web series” about Long Beach musicians. He filmed me for ten minutes and then asked if I could pay his phone bill “for exposure”.

Noah: We kicked him out of our band practice after he kept trying to tune his guitar to 432Hz and talking about chemtrails.

East Village – Overnight Regrets

Patricia from the East Village Arts District confesses: Yes, I took Mark home from a show at Alex’s Bar. Yes, I regret it. He spent the night talking about his “script” and how he used to tour with a band in the 2000s. When we woke up he was sprawled across my pillow like he owned the place, snoring like a freight train and talking in his sleep about cold brew. He ate all the Captain Crunch in my pantry and left me a Post‑it note that read: “Had to run, off to Costa Rica to clear my head – Mark”. He didn’t even leave his number, which honestly is probably for the best.

Mona: After our one‑night stand he borrowed my favourite band tee and said he’d return it. Spoiler: he didn’t, and I later saw him wearing it at Portfolio Coffeehouse.

Robyn: He crashed on my couch for a night; three months later he was still there, calling himself our “creative director”.

Sasha: I realised he had been using my roommate’s toothbrush for a week and then put it back. He said he thought toothbrushes were communal.

Ian: He took my sister on a date to the art walk and “forgot” his wallet. She ended up paying for his craft beer flight and he left with the glass.

Belmont Heights – Directions to Nowhere

Lydia says: I was walking my dog down Grand Avenue when a curly‑haired guy in a blue thermal shirt stopped me to ask for directions. Except he didn’t actually need directions. What he needed was someone to listen to him complain about his ex, his landlord, his director and his bass player. He asked if I liked “alt‑country”, told me he was in a band that hasn’t played a show yet, and then tried to invite himself to my housewarming party. When I declined he rolled his eyes and said something about how everyone in Long Beach is so uptight. Bro, we just don’t want you sleeping on our futons!

Zane: He crashed our house party uninvited, ate all the chips and then set up a makeshift merch table to sell his poetry zines. We asked him to leave twice before he finally did.

Summer: He told me he was a “doula” at a house show. Turns out he thought doula meant “dog walker”.

Jared: He borrowed my bass amp for a gig. The gig never happened, the amp never came back and he posted about “ungrateful people” on Instagram.

Maya (another): He asked if he could park his van in my driveway “for a night”. It stayed there for three months while he ran an Etsy shop out of it.

The Pizza Parlor – Slices & Scandals

Melanie: He told everyone in the dining room that he invented pineapple pizza and started a sing‑along by banging on the salt shakers like bongos. He demanded a free slice “for the artist”.

George: He ordered a family‑sized pie, ate half of it and claimed he forgot his wallet. He said he’d Venmo me later. He didn’t.

Priya: He accidentally dosed the salad bar with LSD and then declared that the veggies were “vibrating with energy”.

Hector: He told our server he owned the place and comped his own meal. When the manager confronted him he said he was “manifesting” ownership. He was escorted out when he tried to take a pizza cutter as a souvenir.

Josie: He convinced me to split an extra‑large with him and then ate all the toppings off my slices while lecturing me about gluten. When I confronted him, he said carbs were a scam and walked out with the delivery driver to “jam”.

Alex: He claimed he used to deliver pizzas here, ate my leftover crust and asked if I wanted to microdose with him in the bathroom. When I declined, he spilled beer on my lap and called me a square.

Breanna: I told him I was nine months pregnant and he said he was a doula, then started coaching my breathing. When the check arrived he was nowhere to be found.