Prompted by a post about a dalliance between two artists that went nowhere -- aside: when a date involves Vicodin and copious amounts of whiskey, they often go nowhere -- readers are wondering why, in a notoriously magical city, the dating scene pales.
But then, like a blinding bolt of clarity, meave of Vegansaurus chimes in with sharp advice, words that lonely, single San Francisco folks should consider embroidering onto their pillows.
If you’re going to date, you have to take it seriously. All this super-casual drifting in and out of the actual date, it’s super-irritating and nonsense. Set something up and go through with it. If you can’t make it, reschedule. If your date calls and postpones, and then postpones again, s/he isn’t taking you seriously. Either go through with it, reschedule, or cancel. We can retain our childlike wonder with the world etc. while behaving like emotionally mature adults toward each other, generally.
So, what's wrong, exactly? Some argue that the city is small. (True. Then again, it's hard to get die-hards out of their neighborhoods to see more.) Other say that S.F. men, by and large, are wispy, washy creatures that won't call a lady back. (Sure, we've seen this.) Others claim that women aren't into the social structure of courtship. (Ah, we do miss courting.) We argue San Francisco's overwhelming case of romantic arrested development is partially to blame.
Below: Mimi Vilmenay's dramatic reenactment of dating in San Francisco.