The Devil, you say? Our nations’s capital is swarming with nefarious people.
“Hell is other people.”
Those who play with the devil’s toys will be brought by degrees to wield his sword.
R. Buckminster Fuller
Those who play with the devil’s toys will be brought by degrees to wield his sword.
R. Buckminster Fuller
The Dance of the Sexes: The Evite said come to a dance- filled experiment in “Sexual Energy Escape.”
Sixty people showed up to a makeshift Berkeley ballroom in a funky warehouse space to participate in the dance event. Thirty men and thirty women, all 40 to 50-something, by invitation only – facilitated by dancer, Rainbea Kanyon.
May I have this Dance?
Start dancing? In a bizarre turn of events, the men gravitated to one side – women on another. The music was a mélange– Keith Jarrett segued into the Rolling Stones, Satie, and Sinatra, blended into Techno followed by a slice of Lawrence Welk then hip-hop. Chubby Checker’s “Let’s Twist Again” lit up the room everyone went wild and laughed. Michael Jackson hits then Joan Jett & The Black Hearts sang “I Love Rock & Roll” followed by “Spirit In The Sky” – Norman Greenbaum. There was never a moment of silence. Nor could you anticipate the eclectic music.
The music changed and became more drum oriented, the men naturally started in what looked like war dances, rain dances, conga lines, stomping, doing a kind of Samoan chest thumping, with big, bold gestures.
As music became more animated – loud drums pulsing and hypnotic- first two- then 10 men began crawling- on- their -bellies- like reptillies – two men shoulder to shoulder, forming a snake were slithering around the dance floor. Laughing….We women were amused and confused. How did this cadre of men – total strangers – end up bonding and slithering?
Women wafted, soft-shoed, floated, were jazzy, sexy and did salsa, hula and rhumba; we did a whole lot of swaying, shimmy and shimmer. Men jumped, stomped, pranced, and war danced, several tried break dancing.
The men were stealing the show.
The music changed, again, and the men were high energy, brio, bravado, and gusto. As a rule, the women were tripping the light fantastic, doing a bit of ballet, belly dancing, jete, some threw in a little yoga, a dash of Pilates, even some Jazzercise reared its ugly head. Rainbeau encouraged, inspired, motivated, and vitalized the group.
Everyone appeared to be having fun – the men, on the other side, appeared to be having way more fun. Rainbea told us to form a a circle and we danced, lugging,smiling, flirting and everyone dissolved into couples…
Men and women on the dance floor of life – so much more fun heart -to -heart and holding hands.
Eventually, Roger- the 62 year old, suddenly-single dating neophyte – was dating.
Sally was a “perfect match’ and he was enjoying her company and concerts, exploring San Francisco and the comfortable companionship.
His buddy, Big Daddy ( aka Mike B from law school days) invited him to join a Marin men’s group. It was an intense knot of over-achievers, trust fund boys, and a few strikingly handsome metro-sexuals (who would later espouse the need for facials, eyebrow-shaping, and a wardrobe of eyeglasses) who talked about their feelings and treating women-all women (wives, lovers, trysts,) with respect.
Big Daddy- a self-appointed coach- took Roger by the hand and ‘guided’ him. He readily shared his well-honed philosophy on life, love, ladies, community, and the “basic human need for a variety of sexual partners.”
He reminded his conservative pal, that after 30 years with the same woman, it was time to make up for lost time. Life was a buffet – he encouraged his Roger to dive in. Big Daddy would show him the way.
Although very enamored with Sally, whom he had been happily dating for weeks – he was taken with the idea of a lazy Susan of sexual partners.
Meanwhile, back at The Commune
Big Daddy’s unusual living arrangement had Roger imagining a Bob, Ted, Carol, and Alice scenario: Bed hopping, one-night stands and casual trysts. Roger thought it sounded delicious. They did a walk-through of the property. Roger was impressed by the organic vegetable garden, the meditation rooms, the vast hot tub, fire pits near the deck, a sauna for 10, and a remarkable, sunken living room with wall-to-wall mattresses. Big Daddy called it the “Party Room.” There were solar panels on every building and lots of hugs and kisses as Roger met “The Crew.” Everyone hugged and kissed. Nice.
Like a Black Lab, panting with excitement, Roger wanted to know where to sign up.
And so it began…
Being an ethical man – in all fairness, Roger felt like he had to share his new lifestyle opportunity with Sally.
In a perfect world, she would be part of his harem.
He would break the news that night after dinner.
The Last Supper and Bon Voyage, Loser!
Yes, a picture is worth a thousand words and in the wild, wonderful, world of online dating – you must put your best photo forward.
Here are the worst of the day:
Virginia says,” Ex-husbands are like a pair of Levis.
When they are new, you love them. You take care of them and they fit you. They look good on you and they go with everything.
They are a let down. A zipper may break. You might experience the heartbreak of broken zipper or a broken vow.
Then, let’s say after 8+ years of wear and tear and in some situations, those Levis don’t fit your life…
You have problems with style, shape, communication.
You wake up one day and realize you might have to go to a tailor for a repair… or even get professional help.
Conclusion: It’s not a perfect fit.
You conclude one day: those old Levis are not only uncomfortable, worn out and out of style… You deserve better.
You deserve designer jeans.
Emily – 40+, (former ski bunny, model, sail boat captainess, chef extraordinare) is a very attractive woman.
She has been around the block with online dating sites and was on a “social sabbatical.” Then, she heard about Raya. The exclusive, haughty for hotties-only site. Sadly, thousands of people have been RAYA-jected from the $8.00 a month dating site.
The You Must Have List for memebership is long: You must be hip and hot and have 1000 Instagram followers; a Raya-enrolled friend must “refer” you and no dullards or dotards need apply- you must have an interesting occupation (doctor, tailor, candlestick maker?)
Our Friend Emily went to work and “liked” several hundred more Instagram folks in a matter of hours, and her numbers of followers crept up and well over 2000. Bam! She reached out and touched a lot of people…she was looking for a Raya Royal (aka Raya member.) Within two hours she had tracked down friends of friends: two sisters – both members – both happy to promote her. Double Bam! They gave her ‘scoops and warnings.” The New York Times said Raya rejects 92% of the applicants…fortunately, our Emily is very connected and stunning and driven.
It took time. She threw her head back and laughed when the sisters told her a committeee of 500 would vote her on or off the island. Just like high school: when the Junior and Senior girls (aka Mean Girls) would deem who would be popular.
Haute to Trot…she downloaded the app and away she went to …the farthest thing from a ray a sunshine. Her new friends said – tongue in cheek – Raya is for famous people like Amy Schumer. Didn’t she meet that infamous, moody guy, who went from waiter to chef around Martha’s Vineyard? Who knows?
Emily spent hours cruising…looking…seeking- she kept seeing the word ‘classy.’ Her mother told her, a long time ago, people who use the word – aren’t.
She says she started playing the violin at five, was in the famed Girl’s Choir, studied both opera and ballet one summer -nevermind where….or for how long – it all looked good on paper.
Within days, Emily was seeing a lot of Paris Hilton types…she guessed she was accepted as a novelty…her daddy was also very successful…she said she attended Stanford ( indeed: a summer school class on film) and Punaho Prep in Honolulu – like Obama – (a summer school romp.)
Meat Market or Meet Market? The jury is out and ‘Emily with the razzle dazzle lifestyle’ (certainly not her real name) is treading lightly.
Not one to put all her eggs in one basket…Emily is still on the prowl….
Diana changed her name to Lady Di when she signed up for online dating sites. At first, she played cute and flirty. She listed a ton of fun activities (copied from the Bay Guardian) and posted an obscure photo of herself. She was delighted with the flood of attention. She responded to each and every wink, note, and query. She found 50% were dead-ends: no response. Quelle bummer.
On a whim, she listed her Top 10 Favorite Places in San Francisco. There was no mention of Golden Gate Park, museums, cafes or bars, special events, the Presidio, Chinatown, DogPatch or the SF Giants. This is whot she wrote:
My Top 10 Places
1. Neighbor Bakehouse = Cinammon Almond Bostock
2. B Patisserie = Choco-yum-croissant
3. Zanze’s Cheesecake = The Classic Cheesecake
4. Ariscault = All Yummy Croissants
5. Yasukochis Japantown = 1960’s Classic Coffee Crunch Cake
6. Chili Pies Baking Co.= Berry, Chococlate, Every Pie
7. Dynamo Donuts = Famed Decadent Donuts
8. Golden Gate Bakery = Egg Tart to die for
9. Mr Holmes Bakehouse = The Famous Cruffin,
10. La Luna Cupcakes = Six Pack Cupcakes
Lady Di said very few men responded to her lovingly created and curated list. And she was perplexed. She thought, for sure, her long list would attract somebody of a like mind. Zip. Nada. Zero.
When we met for the first appointment, she admitted to the dead end she hit with her sharing of her food passion. She was very perplexed and had no idea what she had done “wrong.” When I asked Lady Di what her favorite activities were, without hesitation, she admitted “Eating.”
Her weekends were dedicated to exploring new restaurants, ice cream stores, and bakeries. She really had no use for exercise, sporting events, touring, biking, or long walks.
We spent an hour digging deep looking for other interests. She used to knit, used to ride bikes, went to Napa wine tastings, had dance lessons and attended multiple sporting events and, one day: she didn’t. Getting Diana to admit to what the pivotal event was to turn her from (30 lbs lighter) an active, outgoing woman to a “Foodie,” ws the result of two more meetings.
to be continued…
Testing the Waters?
In th beginning…She was a real-live dating diva on Craigslist; meeting new men every week, buoyed her confidence and prompted Dorothy to join Plenty of Fish.
She instantly learned the ‘catch and release’ practice at Plenty of Fish, and she trawled every day. She was exhilarated with coffee dates, walking dates and her favorite, ‘choose a museum and entertain me’ gauntlet.
Eventually, tired of the one site, she decided to become an active member on both Eharmony and Spiritual Singles.
She claimed to know, within the first five minutes, if the guy was “A Keeper” or a “Next!”
Her friends counted, she had 84 dates in four months. Dorothy was definitely on a quest to meet Mr. Right. Friends wondered if she was looking for Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now?
Eventually, Dating Dorothy realized she was dating the same three men, over and over again. Her friends loudly agreed and told her the guys resembled characters on the Wizard of Oz. No flying monkeys or munchkins allowed.
The first type of man she kept re-meeting, re-visiting, and re-encountering and was a typical cowardly lion: all bravado, no bite.
Take Mike, please.
Mike is a retired jock; at one time in his life he was a 10, swaggered around campus in his letterman’s jacket, had that IBM internship, married his high school sweetheart and, bam! He woke up 20 years later; he was divorced, disenchanted, not even close to being a 10- what with those extra pounds, gleaming chrome dome, and had new bachelor pad by IKEA in Sausalito.
However, Mike still thought he was pretty cool- save for one thing: he was afraid of women. Dorothy classified him as “all talk no action.” Mike could talk a mean story, flirt up a storm, and then he ran out of steam and went home. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He had a great roar and no follow-up. Oddly, Dorothy was, initially attracted to this.
Her next magnetic attraction was a typical Straw-Man. He looks great from the outside: dashing, debonair, well coiffed, drives the right, leased, black BMW sedan and can talk for hours about himself and his myriad accomplishments. However, there’s no-there-there. A classic Straw Man has very little substance. Dorothy liked some aspects. Not all. Next!
Dorothy’s friends laugh when she tells them she’s met a new man at the gym. Again. Déjà vu all over again. “The Type” is usually a “half iron” man…
Often he is somewhat tall, dark, and mildly handsome and totally in love with himself. Yeah, he has a big heart and his heart belongs to- himself.
Any Psych 101 student would say he must’ve been battered and bruised in a relationship and has created an impenetrable shield around his heart. So much for a two-way relationship.
Our friend Dorothy threw in the towel after this waterfall of fun she was having dried up. She got bored – said it wa a deja vu and she was going to quit the dating scene. The Withdrawals were hard. In a week – or two – she filled her calendar withe trips, exploring, movies, museums, Giants Games, dance lessons. She loved joining a Singles walking club.
And so it begins…back at the dating trough.
She won’t date a man who has been divorced more than once or who is living in a studio apartment. She doesn’t like cats, dogs, bicyclists swathed in lycra, men who smoke or vegetarians.
She can’t stand men who don’t use the turn signal while driving and will not tolerate any who use their middle finger to display anger. She hates to see a man driving a car with a dog in his lap. Eating donuts is a very big NO. She has been called a “Picky Eater” by friends and foe. She will be in a panic if it isn’t organic. Sugar is her enemy and she loathes all white foods. Her friends marvel at her love for Kale and Quinoa. The two are her staples, she dabbles in organic spinach and cabbage and Pressed Juices. Yes, she is very very thin
What she does like: is a single, employed or retired, guy who owns his own house. A pool ( sauna, spa, ) is extra “points.” Her long list of “Must Haves” reeks of gold-digger.
She admits to her best friends, her tiny studio apartment, in the beautiful old building, is a “buzzkill” and she never allows a date to enter her private chambers.
Sindie dated Thomas for three months before he gave up trying to make her happy. He wined and dined her. On their 10th date he gave her a Tiffany heart and she offered a polite “Thank you” and later tucked it her her jewelry drawer. She had sold three other Tiffany Heart gifts on eBay. His would be next. She dubbed Thomas “irrelevant” and moved on. Alone. Single. Searching and very unhappy.
“I love being irreverent. But I hate being irrelevant. I love being irreverent because at the end of the day your actions belie your intentions.