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Archive for the category “Single Men in San Francisco”

Happy Birthday: The Wild Bunch turns 50: Celebrate or celibate?

A coterie of friends from college – they are eight women who met when they were girls

and gracefully blossomed into women partied hearty this weekend.

They were turning 50 and wanted to kick up their heels. The self-appointed scribe of the group,   Mitzi, sent in a recap of the ladies weekend. Through the decades, the friends have been through the highest highs and the lowest lows. Mitzi indicated, at times, life was like heaven (weddings, babies, careers, white picket fences, celebrations) and hell, (teenagers, parents dying, and making ex-husbands).

The Wild Bunch gather annually to celebrate life and take a pulse on each other’s recent developments.

Updated Statistics: Some Suddenly Single?

As fate would have it, six of the women are single and blithely swimming in the dating pool. After their celebration with Champagne and exquisite pink cupcakes, punctuated with storytelling and paroxysms of laughter, the women compiled their own top ten list entitled:

“Our Top Ten ‘Life is Short and I Won’t:

1. I won’t eat at a place with the words “Squat” and “Gobble” in the name.

2. I won’t respond to a man who sends me a photo of him enshrouded in a hat and sunglasses.

3. I won’t be impressed with anyone who sends a canned greeting (Hello Angel, does God know you left heaven?) <wink> <wink>

4. I won’t meet anyone for a date in a parking lot, a bowling alley, or the Indy 500.

5. I won’t kiss and tell, but I might kiss again. And, again.

6. I won’t hesitate to delete grumps, grouches, boors, less than honest people from my life.

7. I won’t waste time with people who see the glass as chipped, broken or empty.

8. I won’t miss the opportunity for a hug or a kiss. Holding hands is a priority. To mis-quote Ogden Nash,  “Candy is dandy – liquor is quicker and supine is divine.”

9. I won’t wear Crocs, Uggs, Sweats, backpacks, Lanz nighties, shoulder pads, granny glasses or acid wash jeans,

10. I won’t let anyone rain on my parade. Life is a cabaret. I will sing and dance like my hair is on fire.

The remarkable “The Wild Bunch” default to laughing, sharing, and supporting one another – 30 years ago they were new at the dating game- and here they go again – back in the dating saddle again.

Wishing them luck, hugs and kisses.


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Dear Page Larkin: Help with online dating

Dear Page,

Help! I’ve had three “first dates” with three different women who all came on like gangbusters. I met each for a drink at a quiet bar on Geary Boulevard. I am a prince when it comes to easing into conversations. Each of these women “Cut to the chase” within three minutes of nice to meet you-How was your day-where do you work-small talk.

Wanda One want to know how I felt about Collin Kaepernick and the Bob Woodward’s book, “Fear.”

Tessie Two, ordered the glass of water (really?) That was a first.  She asked me, within minutes, why my most recent relationship failed and where I saw myself in five years. I sipped my Chardonnay, swirled around the glass a bit and looked at her. I smiled at her and asked her how her day was.

I can tap dance around questions à la Fred Astaire-but these  women were so off-putting. It took a while for them to settle down and put their ironclad agendas aside.

The grand finale, (I was noticing a trend) 

 Tessie Three seemed lovely and polite; however, within the first five minutes she asked me just how deeply I had fallen in love and what were my true intentions with online dating?  Finally, she asked if I’ve ever cheated. And, why.

All this before “What’s your major; do you come here often; and, what do you do for living?”

I’m thinking each  these women (in their 30’s) exhibited a quiet desperation (Procreation time clock ticking?) and want to spend as little time as possible in the romance dance.  What’s up with this new tactic? 

Shocked on San Bruno

Dear Shocked San Bruno

As it turns out, some deem small talk and initial a public conversation a waste of time. I’ve met women who insist life is short and they have no reason to tiptoe around- they want to test the guy first.

Dealing is not a test; it’s more like a dance where one meets, converses, ascertains. If there’s a connection,  bombarding anybody with personal questions at first light is more than just impolite.

I’m convinced she’s out there keep looking, San Bruno

Love,  Page

Dear Page Larkin,

I have been single-divorced for five years. At first, dating again was fun. I met the good, the bad, and the ugh. I dated a dozen different guys before I met a very special man. We went steady for year. Gradually, the façade cracked bigtime and I clearly realized he wasn’t “the one.”

Now that I’m back in the dating pool, I’ve met several men who have asked me the most personal /intense questions regarding my failed marriage-my goals and aspirations-last relationship challenges. I’m shocked. What happened to getting to know you?  Is this a new trend – or just plain rude?

Leilani in Hilo

Dear Leilani in Hilo,

You’re not the first to  comment about this attack dog technique on first dates. I’ve met a number of people who feel they don’t want to waste time on a dead-end date. Why would you even show up for a coffee date, if you think there’s a possibility of the person being a dead-end? Why would you ask deep personal questions unless you want to alienate the person?

More people are won over by courteous and thoughtful manners- than aggressive behavior.  Have fun out there!

Love, Page

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Worst Online Dating Pix?

Don’t try this at home

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:

 

 

 

Take you time, ask a friend to assit with taking and selecting the most flattering photos.

There is only you and your camera.

The limitations in your photography are in yourself,

for what we see is what we are.

Ernst Haas

Dating Hoax 101:Hooked by a Catfish

hope

She said she was 42, divorced, amorous, available and waiting for Mr. Right.

Her pictures were stunning – she was a tall, lanky, brunette – often posing in clothing befitting a lingerie model. That was sexy – yet, strange –as she said she was trained as an attorney. She readily admitted she only had a few clients- very wealthy clients – who flew her to their resort-like homes for consultations. She practiced Business Law.

And she didn’t like to talk about her profession.

On the free dating website, her name is Venus. She loves the beach, puppies, NCIS, negligees, chocolates and roses. As a rule, after the exchange of two emails she generally gives out her phone number. She is very friendly and flirty.

Mike met Venus online five years ago and they have been chatting on the phone ever since. He is married – his wife doesn’t understand him. Mike would really like to meet her in person – however, Venus is always in court. He understands – she is very famous. He lives in Wyoming. He is in love with Venus and is willing to wait.

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Tim met Venus online six months ago. He is ready to move from Texas to San Francisco to be near her. He is a mechanic- and wants to work at Tesla.  They talk on phone every day. Her Skype is broken. Darn. He wants to fly out and take her to dinner at “A fancy place in Frisco – her choice.” She tells him – she would love it – when the big case is over. Her last case took two years to settle. He can’t wait to see her penthouse in the Marina District of San Francisco – it has views of “all the bridges” and she can hear “the trolleys” and smell the French Bread being baked. Tim hangs on her every word.

Tim is trusting and in love. Not a computer -guy – he would never think of Googling Venus – her law firm, her home address with all those classic San Francisco treats. Hence, the successful masquerade by Venus.

As Fate would have it: Venus (aka Janice B.) lives in Fremont. She is single/never married, 55, and for a month, was a nanny for an attorney and his wife. She is a clerk at Kohl’s. She is clever, lonely and really good at “spinning yarns”  according to her sister whose hesitates to call Janice a liar. In five years, Janice has met and engaged – over the phone and texting- with two dozen men online. She has never met any of the men in person.

Buyer Beware: There are schools of scammers called Catfish – who pretend to be something they aren’t…lying is second nature and there are no ethics involved. Think: Web of lies

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Catfish: verb: To be baited by a person ‘trolling/trawling the internet – pretending to be someone thery aren’t.

Dr Phil has done a public service show – exposing these Catfish scam artists.  See Here: 

See: Catfish definition

See the MTV Show Catfish

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The most common lie is that which one lies to himself; lying to others is relatively an exception.
Friedrich Nietzsche

Listen to what she says on the first date, Binkie

The truth is loud and clear – Just Listen

Ted confided he hadn’t been on a date in a very long time.

His Match.com account was filled with the cobwebs of inactivity. He tried Tinder and didn’t get swiped or swept away. Out of the blue, Kiki K.of SF   reached out to him and started a dialogue. They exchanged a few emails – she was new in town, lost – didnt know where the cool bars and good restaurants were. She wondered if he could help. Could he? Oh, yeah.

She invited him over to her apartment – and aplogized in advance, she was moving and things and were topsy-turvey. She lived in the Haight. Well, he thought, perhaps in the better part of the seedy Haight.

He arrived and drove around for awhile before a small sliver of a parking space appeared. After “helloes”  she explained she was nervous- had some anxiety issues. He thought “Who doesn’t?” After she “tidied up” they sat her cafe table, each chair was covered with clothing, a stack papers, a bag of kitty litter…

He noticed Kiki ( 50-ish, slim, dressed in black, no make up, no jewelry) didn’t ask him any questions. She gushed tell-tale information, clues galore – and Ted was so enchanted to be in  a conversation with a pretty woman he wasn’t really listening  She readily offered her life in San Francisco has been a bomb. She wasn’t happy. She did “some binge drinking” and – so slim – wasn’t eating.

Huge, neon, red flags were waving all around the room with each disclosure. Ted didn’t want to see them. Her long list of things she hated was not too off-putting; who didn’t like loud neighbors, traffic, landlords?

However, when Kiki disclosed what she did to “all of the above,” he took note. She left cat poop at her neighbors front door. She wrote hate letters to the apartment owner, she spray painted the garage.

Ted was growing uncomfortable. This was more of a therapy appointment than a date.

Kiki asked him for a ride to the DMV in Daly City. He knew the SF DMV was mere blocks away and mentioned it. She grew agitated and said the people there were all morons.

A lightening bolt of reality finally hit Ted and he knew it was time to escape. Fast. A lousy liar, he looked at his watch and said he had to move his car. She said, “I will come with!” and Ted nervously said, “No. I had better go. There is something I have to do.” He got up quickly, walked towards to door, mumbled “Nice-to-meet-you-good luck-with-everything-have-a-nice-day.”

He did the run-walk-run and didn’t listen to whatever she was screaming at him.

The aim of the wise is not to secure pleasure, but to avoid pain.

Aristotle

Dating in 2018: Match.com – dream or nightmare?



So I walked into the Friday Night cocktail party at the DeYoung Museum.

A man comes up to me and says, “ I’m 6’ tall, 185 pounds, spiritual not religious, income: I’ll tell you later. I like NASCAR, a Cuban cigar, hot dogs and pizza and boxing. I’ve seen American Sniper three times and I think Lady Gaga is a freak and I like the guy in the White Housee. May buy you a drink? And, tell me:  what are you tipping the scales at, Tiny?

Next!

I climb the stairs to the African Mask Collection and a man approaches and says, “I’m average height, average build, love to snuggle and to shop at Victoria’s Secret.” (What? A cross-dresser?) He continues, “I live in Santa Rosa and I won’t drive more than 20 miles to meet the woman of my dreams -who, by the way, is ‘Barbie.’ How old are you?”

Bye!

Some fancy dance work and a quick escape right, to the Portrait Gallery and another man advances and says, “Hello beautiful! Let’s skip the small talk: I’m Scorpio, very lonely, never married, no kids, live alone; I have a very, very, big, bike. Can I take you for a ride? I just finished “The da Vinci Code” ”and “50 Shades of Gray” is on my bedside table. Want to read it together? What’s your income?”

Hasta la vista, baby!

I exit down the hall, a quick left turn to the Hudson Valley Painters Gallery. I happened upon ‘Mr. Burlingame.’ He is my height, my age, big smile and twinkling eyes – introduces himself and says his interested in talking and eliminating the mindless chatter about astrology and  pets – if that was okay. And then he said, “Your picture doesn’t do you justice.” (A.k.a. The six sexiest words on Match.com)

He proceeded to ask me questions about me and my life and he listened.

 We talked and walked right into the Chihuly Room and later found ourselves next to Wayne Thiebaud’s “The Gumballs” and ended up standing in front of the spectacular new Liz Fracchia painting.

The museum was about to close…and the party was not over.

 We have been together every day since.

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What’s your story? Tell me your dating story: page.larkin@gmail.com

Dear Page Larkin: Foolish Women and Great Guys?

Party_girl

Dear Page

Satuday night, my new guy showed up with a bottle of chilled Procesco, Mel Brooks’  “History of  the World” and two bags of popcorn – one with sea salt and a brown sugar melange, a bag of M&M’s and, admittedly, an impressive fruit tray. And more chocolate. TCHO. He calls me and sends sweet greeting cards every week….I just am not sure about him. What shall I do?
Bossy Pants Petaluma

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 Dear Bossy Pants Petaluma
Don’t spend another minute thinking about this: send ME his number, thanks! A million girls would love to be wooed by a guy that clever and cute and sweet. Get Woke, girlfriend.

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Page, Help!

I am 55, divorced, no kids, employed and  know I am the perfect date – dozens of women have told me that. My problem is so many gals just want  one date, one meal, one bottle of wine and they disappear. They don’t respond to emails, text or calls. What am I doing wrong?

Clarke Able

Dear Clarke,  You do sound like a great date – what you neglect to mention is the conversation, the general feeling, and the level of mutual attraction. Are you both enjoying the meal, is conversation flowing, are you in agreement in most topics, are you both smiling or squirming during the date? These are all clues to the success of the date. Take Note. Good luck.

Love, Page

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Real magic in relationships means an absence of judgment of others.

Wayne Dyer

 

Yes! New improved Shortest Fairy Tale

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It went viral – The World’s Shortest Fairy Tale was all over the Internet.

Bitter or Better?

Hey, Let’s try that again…


Once upon a time”… a man asked a woman, to marry him.  

 The woman said, “No. No thank you.”

… and for a while she lived pretty -happily-ever-after…

She went shopping, hiking, went to movies and volunteered at Casa de los Madres and Onebrick…she danced, frequented museums, book readings, drank really great wine, always had a clean house, did yoga three times a week;  cooked quinoa, tofu, brownies and  triple chocolate chip cookies when she felt like it; she did whatever she wanted, never argued, didn’t get fat, traveled more, had many friends, compatriots, pals,  and buddies  …

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She entertained, went to lectures, bowled, she played and prayed – as needed.  She never watched sports ( except the SF Giants, the World Series, the Super Bowl, The Warriors,  and Wimbledon)  She never wore itchy, cheap lingerie; she had high self-esteem, never cried or yelled…she looked fabulous in sweat pants, designer jeans and Little Black Dresses  and  was pleasant all the time.

photo_1ben918_20060901Yawn. All that got old.

She learned that she was missing an important component…she craved and pined for someone  to partner with, establish  a connection – a union – a much more than mere friendship person.

She wanted to hold hands with, to wake -up -with-in-the morning, to kiss good night and wish ‘sweet dreams’ to every night for the rest of her life. ilove u_-9

She Wanted a Prince of a Man:   

A  perfect partner-in-crime, and play, in plans, to grow old with … And she opened her heart and her eyes and developed a more worldly view.  She was always one to share and play well with others…

When, lo and behold: she met a friend. A BoyFriend – and they clicked- they were a Match, they had Chemistry and Harmony… they got along.

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He was fun and funny, and sweet and thoughtful. They really enjoyed each other’s company. She had her Date for Life!

They were in love and Friends for Life. They planned, played, and lived happily ever after.

The Beginning.


Deckchairs with view of lake

My love affair with Billy Collins

photo_1074_20060214dotttBilly Collins boarded my plane.

I was seated in 17C. He sat alone in 14C.

If my posture was both correct and very erect, I could see him. I could see his head and fractions of his body.

Two of his all-time very best Poetry books, “Flying Around the Room” and “Nine Horses” were in my carry-on bag. I was just reading the poems in “The Art of Drowning” last week. Did I conjure him up? Was he traveling alone? What was he reading? Could we do lunch?

I saw him dive into his carry-on and pull out massive Bose headphones. No subtle message there. If ever there was an object that screamed, “Do not talk to me,” its the “Big Boys Bose” headphones.

Craning my neck, I saw a small fraction of his head, shoulder and arm. I casually stretched to gain a better vantage and decided my bag could actually live in an overhead bin, for a while, thus providing me an excuse to stand up and move closer to Billy Collins.

Nonchalantly, I rose  – happily discovering that my bin was filled to the max – which would allow me to move, oh, so close, to Billy. A great mental debate ensued, “To hi or not to hi.”

A passionate fan for well over a decade – I owned a copy of every one of his books and gave a copy of Litany to every recent boyfriend. I’d seen Billy, in-person, in San Francisco and Los Angeles.  Plus, I had his books in my carry-on. Kismet. I was an A-1, authentic devotee. We both wrote poetry. We both used the word “perfervid” fervently. I had once memorized his poem on memory loss and our writing group did a whole session on his poem “Consolation.

While I gathered courage and feigned nonchalance, a voluptuous redhead in black leather pants and high heel boots, swaggered her way down the aisle

and slipped in next to my Billy Collins.

I watched – pretending not to be staring– as he removed his Big Bose and started conversing with the hussy. I could feel myself bristling and slowly turning into Kathy Bates in Misery. I imagine the people sitting next to me thought I  was acting like a pop-up prairie dog.

Hey! If I’d gotten this close to Billy – what would it take to invoke Michael Chabon? I’d both read the book and shopped on Telegraph Avenue; had seen the movie Wonder Boys, I was cavalier and liked clay. Okay, so that was a stretch.

Dejected and rejected, for the next hour I listened to Lyle Lovett and I buried my head in Sun magazine.

Once (okay, twice) I sat very  tall and looked – they were quaffing and chatting.

There was no consolation.

Well, actually,  I did have that lovely book of poems by my new very favorite poet,  David Whyte… Everything is Waiting for You.

Billy

Are you New to “The Not Married Now” Club?

redwoods528_nHold on!

 Every day there are tons of new members in the Not Married Now Club.

We walk out of the courtroom glazed, delighted, defeated, feeling numb or ecstatic and newly appointed: divorced.

Some of us throw a party – replete with champagne and pizza – or darts and beer.

Others take to their beds, and watch a full season Westworld, Billions, Superstore or Nurse Jackie…Unforgotten or  on HBO or Netflix, barely paying attention.

Some are already enmeshed in a new relationship and seek sex, refuge and understanding.

Whatever your state (grace, confusion, ire, relief) take the proper amount of processing time.

When you are ready, gently remove and discard the shroud around your heart.

It may take awhile. Or not.

Next, shred the mountains of documents and go outside.

 IMG_0346Go Outside:

 Watch the sunrise, take a walk,  join humanity in your new identity as Single: Suddenly Single not married now. Free at last.

Feeling odd and out of sorts or splendid?

 

Take your time to return to a social whirlwind or even  to a small gust of activity.

Even though 50% of us have walked through the valley of divorce, like snowflakes, no two are alike.

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My friend once confided that her neighbor was going to the exact same divorce scenario as I had endured. Really?

She pleaded for me to consult with her neighbor. I reluctantly agreed – we spoke on the phone-indeed, there were a striking number of similarities.

Girls, we aim to please  – it is what we do. (Oprah calls it as the disease to please) I agreed to meet Jaquie for coffee.

She had six months of divorce filings, co-parenting and attorney meetings under her belt. Evidently, I was considered “An Expert Witness” with years worth of E-Ticket divorce-land experience.

Snowflakes

She came to the coffee shop with her boyfriend, Clive, whose picture I had just seen on Match.com.

He stayed just a minute, said he was, “Going to pop out and go shopping.” Yes, he did shop around.

Jaquie and I fell into an easy conversation as similar as we were – we were worlds apart.

She’s been married for 9.75 years and her father-in-law was a multi-millionaire. He had invented Post-it notes or glue 0r something very significant.

She reported she had huge financial resources and that she might go back to school and become a pastry chef. She and Clive had been together for three months and she was quite smitten.                

(I checked later that day, Clive was alive and looking on Match.com) Red flag, sweetheart!

The more we spoke, the quicker the similarities evaporated …our differences expanded like those skinny sponges -simply add water and, bingo. You don’t even recognize the original flat concept.

Keep your divorce to yourself

Good friends may inquire about your divorce.  There is no reason to bore them with the details. So, hire a therapist. Level with your therapist.  Take a spinning class –  do all kinds of catharsis, but don’t bore your friends and family. 

Welcome to The Club

  And know: when you walk into the store, the library, or post office, 50% of the people in line are also divorced… and that group at Starbucks, and that class you are taking? Yep, truth be told:  50%.

Carpe  diem, darlin.

image001And learn the ropes of Internet Dating at the next

“Page Larkin- Get Your Dating Mojo Moving” Workship

page.larkin@gmail.com

 

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