Category Archives: Dating
If a woman tells you she doesn’t want anything
for Valentine’s Day…do not believe her.
Psst! Remember this secret:
When in doubt…over do Valentine’s gifts, baubles, trinkets, sweets, Bubbly…
To err is human
to overcompensate is
There is only one happiness in this life, to love and be loved.
There were four other single girls living in the Nob Hill apartment building. We agreed to throw “Singles Parties” and get to know more people ( read: men) and explore San Francisco hot spots. We wasted time thinking up a clever name for our coterie. Fueled by trendy Blonde Beer, we came up with a half-dozen funny names and decided – “BTBW” (Born to be Wild) was cute and catchy.
Twice a month, we casually invaded the living room in the building. We sent out invites with BYOB as the lead. We provided light snacks, music and introductions.
We had four theme parties a year and discovered everyone loved dressing up for Halloween. We also decided to take it to the streets and started Trick or Treating on Clement Street. Our goal was to meet at least one fun person to invite to join us.
No problem! Fast learners, we discovered, people want to be invited…many are reticent and shy. We became the Party Planners du jour. Our Annual Soiree by Invite Only is a much sought after invite – ferry to Sausalito, Kickoff at Spinnakers, Wine Tasting in two bars on the water and dinner at a secret restaurant.
To move in or not to move in: that was the question
Sherry (admits to “over 50”) and Claude (62) met online. They exchanged four e-mails, enjoyed two lengthy phone calls, and on the first date, both were very carefully falling in love.
They both like opera, Mountain Winery concerts, old San Francisco, traveling to Santa Fe for the opera, Carmel-by-the-Sea, Wine Tasting events, and visiting National Parks. She likes fiction. He likes nonfiction. He loves butter, cream, and eggs. She’s more of an advocate for quinoa, vegetables, and exploring the aisles of Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods. He cooks – she prefers dining out.
They were around same age, had been through painful divorces, had launched their kids, were finishing up careers and both were seriously thinking about retirement. He has a condo in San Francisco on Nob Hill, a doorman, spectacular views of both bridges; rarely drives – walks everywhere, and knows San Francisco like the back of his hand. His office is one of the top floors of the towering Bank of America on California Street.
She lives in a tiny cottage in Redwood City- with a charming garden, a hot tub – there is no lawn to mow, no big home to maintain, just sunny weather, parking galore, and she has privacy, solitude, and a huge deck for entertaining –which she does with great frequency. She belongs to a book club, a Pilate’s class, and volunteers at film festivals and the Museum – he says she has ‘a Rolodex full of girlfriends.’
She works from home for three very delightful and demanding clients in Atherton.
A Moving Experience: On their one-year anniversary, they drove north on Highway 101 to the Victorian village of Ferndale and explored the area and the beautiful redwood parks. Over crab cocktails at VI Restaurant he suggested she move into his spacious condo in San Francisco. He had a second bedroom that could easily be made into her office or study. He listed the many positive aspects of living in San Francisco – such an exciting location and – more importantly- of living together. She was thinking of the whipping winds and fog rolling in, parking challenges, the din of the neighborhood, the claustrophobic feeling of being so close to your neighbors, no garden…her mental list of “cons” grew incrementally. She was very happy with their arrangement. They were together all weekend and one or two nights a week. Two of her 50-ish friends had ‘living situations’ with beaus – they kept separate residences and saw one another frequently. The couples said they embraced their privacy and alone time and claimed they were very happy with the arrangements. She pondered.
Moving in together and moving away? Then his boss offered him a position in Miami, Florida as VP of his department. The assignment would be for 18 months with the caveat that he would return to San Francisco six times a year for meetings. The offer was a promotion with great benefits – and would most likely be his last position with the company. Thrilled at the prospect, he called and invited her to join him on this new adventure. She had been to Florida several times and liked the beaches, Art Deco architecture and Cuban Food, As she started thinking about the humidity, the traffic, the density, the severe summer weather, and the distance from her family and her friends her mood changed. Her best friend said, “Go for it! It’s only for a year or so and you’ll come back here every few months. Just do it. Candace, her neighbor – an Eileen Fisher model, 65, tango dancer with a shock of silver hair said, “Men? I go dancing once a week. I just want to be in the arms of a man for one hour –and then go home to my cats and I’m happy.” Another cat woman?
She was dizzy with input from her myriad friends and her love for this man – who was kind, thoughtful and more spiritual than anyone she had ever met.
Things fall into place Her best friend from Albuquerque took an artist in residence gig at the Oakland Museum and needed a place to stay – voila: the perfect house sitter.
She told her clients of her plans. She heard a lot of “Oh! no! What will we do?” comments punctuated with hugs and “Please don’t go.” requests. She had a best friends meeting and they balked at the news… They asked if she wasn’t little too quick to make a decision of this importance. Her “Besties” were friends for decades who knew Mr Right and had googled him diligently. They urged her to slow down…not to throw the baby out with the bathwater and go to FLorida to visit – not live. A Bi-coastal relationship would be the perfect test.
After one exhausting visit to Miami and the environs – the traffic, the heat, the miles and miles of strip malls, the infamous Seniors – worst drivers in the state and alarming stories about alligators and high rate of crime was enough to have her go for the BiCoastal Route…
She would remain in California and he would fly home every couple of weeks.
First: Have a Garage Sale!
Possibly the Most stressful, exhausting, taxing, demanding, unfulfilling event in a lifetime….
Organizing, planning, purging, pricing, promoting, staging, signage, paperwork, selling, smiling, haggling…for hours and hours.
…One man’s treasure is another man’s Junk…Dopey, really?
If you can ‘get along’ and work together for the common good and still speak to one another after eight hours of looky-loo’s, weirdos, and harassing hagglers….
And, if you can sell a ton of duplicates (you have two blenders, two irons, ice buckets, dozens of wine glasses, bowls, plates, baseball hats…) and the myriad “Won’t Need Its ” for the new house’ items – Bravo!
More power to you…crack open a bottle of really good wine – you deserve it…Have pizza – really good pizza – delivered.
Put your feet up. You Survived.
Put Dopey near the recycling bin…
Bea S.moved to San Francisco with a red hot passion.
She would do anything to get famous in the big City. She assumed with her good looks, her almost perfect body (with recent “enhancements”) and a wall of Miss Teen and Miss Kern County beauty pagent ribbbons gracing her bedroom walls were strong evidence of her beauty and fame.
It didn’t take long to realize that dropping, “I know Devin Nunez- we are both from the Central Valley,” didn’t impress anyone in San Francisco.
She looked into modeling, acting, TV gigs, and was coming up dry. Very dry. Rent was astronomical and she was sharing the $5000 monthly rent-fee with three other girls. Her “room” was a corner they created where the hall met a walk-in closet.
Like thousands of other wanna be stars, Bea took a job at cafe – just like high school, then, she heard about a better job- jumped ship and started at a posh downtown restaurant as the invisible water girl. She just knew she would be ‘discovered.’ Each afternoon, she applied “her face” fashioned her long tresses, pulled on her tight pleather pants and form fitting white blouse. She was told time and again that she was to be as subtle as a butterfly and not to interrupt, speak to, stare/ smile at guests. For one week Bea played the mute. The invisible. Week #2 she decided to give fliritng a whirl. She was used to being noticed and admired. She was Miss Kern County and a “Ms California Runner Up” to the third runner up. Within an hour of her frisky, flirty, fun personae – she was pulled off the floor. Her boss called her on her behavior – granted her that one “mis-judgement” and would not stand for another fall from grace.
Four days later, Bea joined in on a table of men having lunch. She said she couldnt resist, they “were all having fun and carrying on.” She felt like she could make the meal more enjoyable by being herself. Minutes later, she was let go. Even more minutes later, she was perched a stool at the HaRa Club.She was telling the afternoon crowd nearby about her termination. She was shocked. She claimed she was flowing with ideas and “had so much to say.” She tired to quote the Bible about lights and bushels and bestowing her talents.
Bea popped all over San Francisco doing temp work before she decided Hollywood was where she really needed to be and to shine.
Whether it is bluff or bravado, Bachelor (again) and bon vivant, Harold H. quickly dismisses his three divorces, and announces he’s looking for a woman who understands him.
He is the kind a man who measures success by the size of a wallet and bank account. Both of his are substantial. What he is lacking are social graces, compassion, and sensitivity. Some have compared him to the proverbial bull in a China shop. He is simply clueless as to the number people he alienates with his brash bragging.
Mind you, there are plenty of women who are attracted to him and his wealth like a fly to honey. Harold H. will tell you, quite frankly, he’s looking for a “type.” He only dates tall, blondes, generally 20 years his junior. His first three wives were petite, Mediterranean, homemaker types.
He thought he had a gold mine when he met Trixie- she was from Texas, was bold and brassy and seem to find old Harold H attractive. She loved to go to expensive restaurants, she knew how to feign interest to a man who was wining and dining her- especially when there was a potential for gifts in little blue boxes.
Trixie could drink most men under the table (years of practice) and she had a “frisky” side the Harold H found very attractive. Each week, he surprised Trixie with a piece of jewelry. He knew for a fact that most women faint over gifts from the jewelry store. His relationship with Trixie buoyed his confidence. People stopped and stared when they walked down the street or walked into restaurants. He liked that.
What Harold H never expected was that Trixie’s old boyfriend would reappear and she would drop him like a hot potato.
Trixie called him to say was going to return her jewelry drawer full of trinkets from Harold H- he said, “Hey, babe, fuhgeddaboudit!” He closed the Trixie chapter and was back on the Union Street prowl that night.