Dating should be really called carbon dating, because by the time it's over, it's ancient history.
The topic of dating has crept up back into my life again. No, not because I'm dating creeps, but because I've come across some good dating reads!
I learned about this brave and sassy chick while attending Blogalicious earlier this month. (Anyone who actively dates is brave in my book.) Busy Dating describes herself as a "thirty something single woman exploring the dating scene with an open mind and a fresh pair of eyes. Learning, laughing and chronicling along the way."
Yes, a girl after my heart! Every woman should read her dating horror stories section Don't Get Punched. Also, follow her twitter. She recently had me cracking up on when she announced that some jackass on an online dating site had asked her if "she could clap her hind parts."
(I'm wondering if he misquoted William Butler Yeats, "soul clap its hands and sing.")
In any case, while she was at the conference, Busy Dating had a far more pleasant and innocent enough encounter in South Beach that led to a phone call on her way back home. Could romance spring up between two out-of-towners on the sidewalk? Stranger things have happened on the island. No, I'm sorry. The strange thing would be romance. The normal thing on a South Beach sidewalk is a walk of shame before the hookers come out for coffee.
Could a South Beach flirtation find fertile ground elsewhere? We shall see ...
THEY ALWAYS LEAVE ... OR COME BACK FOR THE CASH ON THE NIGHTSTAND
My sarcasm does a terrible injustice to Jeremy Glazer, a local writer whose prose I've recently discovered. He had me at the the first few sentences of a story published over at WLRN's blog, Under the Sun. Glazer's beautifully written fictional account of a local man who falls for a transplant explores the bane of every native Miamian's existence: the good ones always seem to be from elsewhere. From They Always Leave:
You want to say you and Tanya broke up because she smoked too much. Or because she was on facebook all night. Or because her apartment was a complete mess. But those are all excuses.Glazer's poignant story about love lost begs a question about romance in a city of accidental residents. Yes, alas, the good ones leave, but why do all the damn psychos stay?!?
Just like every other relationship you’ve had in Miami, it ended because she moved away.
LOVE IN THE TIME OF CHARLES DEERING
While love may last as long as the life cycle of a fruit fly in South Beach, a different story comes out of Old Cutler.
Last night I took the first Deering Estate ghost tour of the season, during which a staff member shared one of the best South Florida love stories I've ever heard.
You see, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Deering each had their own personal servants. But for some reason, these servants were not allowed to date each other, although they were madly in love. They kept their romance secret for many years until the Mr. and Mrs. passed away. The lovers eventually married -- she at the tender age of 61 on the day of her nuptials.
Oh, can you imagine the kisses they stole behind the Richmond Cottage? The furtive embraces in the dense foliage of the mangrove forest?
Speaking of romance, ghost tours are a great way to explore one of the most hauntingly romantic spots in Miami-Dade -- haunting as in "its beauty will haunt you." If you can't make the night tour, go during the day with a picnic basket for wooing under the royal palms or consider attending one of their moonlight concerts on the gorgeous bayside lawn. More information about it all here: Deering Estate at Cutler.
My story on last year's investigative ghost tour is over at Miami Beach 411.