Not So OK, Cupid

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To its millions of users, OkCupid might seem like the hip younger sibling to online dating sites like eHarmony or Match.com. The free site will welcome you with an illustration of a woman whose feathered bangs and chic boots connote certain keywords—urbane, maybe. Worldly. She’s less Michael Bay and more Michael Cera, less Axe body spray and more post-yoga patchouli musk. She looks mellow—like she might just make an exception for you.

And then there are the fun surveys, which one local woman likens to Cosmo quizzes. What’s your sign, and how important is astrology to you? Would you rather be normal or weird? Would you date someone who does drugs, and, if so, would you prefer only “soft stuff like marijuana?”

But what if the place you live isn’t exactly urbane? Or worldly? What if it’s Sonoma County, and the guy you’re meeting online is, say, the same guy two of your friends have already dated?

“The pool is just so small,” says Louise. (Note: for the sake of the interviewees, all names in this piece have all been changed.)

The Santa Rosa resident describes selecting an age range from 28 to 40 and looking for men within 25 miles. The search turned up eight pages of eligible guys.

“And then I selected just one age, 37, and typed in San Francisco,” she says. “There were 50 pages just of 37-year-olds.”

“I don’t want to date my friends’ ex-husbands,” says Margot, another Santa Rosa single girl, who says she’s gone out with people mainly down in the city and in the East Bay to avoid such awkward situations.

Which can get creepy fast.

“You can ‘wink’ at people on there,” says a third Santa Rosa dweller, Kate. “It’s like poking people on Facebook. To have some guy who’s dating a friend of mine and supposedly in a committed relationship winking at me on OkCupid just makes me feel like I need to go take a shower.”

Local users describe the site in language similar to any encounter filtered through a two-dimensional screen, where user profiles can be edited to reflect a reality that in actuality might not be so real.

“The men that I’ve connected with, they’re all rebounding or heartbroken and just want a quick fix with the woman with the hottest pictures up,” says Kate. “It’s like a fantasy; they want to fill that loneliness with some kind of attention.”

In Louise’s experience, this casual atmosphere was a positive at first. She’d recently gotten out of a 19-year relationship herself, and had little experience with dating.

“I basically didn’t wait for anyone to approach me,” she says. “I’d find five to eight people who looked interesting and write them a quick note. I was just open about it.”

But eventually, the then-39-year-old started to notice a bizarre pattern.

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It happened when she was messaging a 40-year-old man who lived locally. “I saw something that I see all the time, but it was the first time I noticed it,” she recalls. “At the very bottom of his page it said [the age range] he was looking for: 18–25.”

“When you’re older and you’re online, it tends to not go your way, because men your own age tend to look for younger women,” Margot, 42, agrees.

“If I’m out in the real world, I’ll get hit on by guys my own age and guys younger than me, somewhat frequently. I seem to get attention. But online there’s a different set of qualifications.”

And according to the three women, this disconnect between reality and internet fantasyland can get much, much stranger.

There’s the goth guy who likes to walk women around town on leashes. The guy who’s constantly changing the city where he supposedly lives. And then there was Kate’s boyfriend, who created a fake OkCupid account while they were still in a relationship and secretly tried to get her to cheat on him with . . . his online self.

“Every single section in there was catered specifically to my profile,” she says. “Like [he wrote about] this obscure East Bay band, Our Lady of the Highway, which hasn’t played together for, like, 10 years. He sent me four messages within a 12-hour period, two really late at night and two really early in the morning, begging me to contact him.”

Two months later, she says, he admitted what she already knew—that it was him.

“That kind of spooked me,” she says. “It made me wary, like anybody can have an OkCupid account. It really freaks me out that someone could just be out there to fuck with you.”

Louise used the site for six to eight months—dated someone for a month, someone else for two months—and then met a guy in real life. That lasted a year, and then she went back to the site. Her second time on OkCupid—post–difficult breakup—was wildly different than her first, and she only used it for 10 days.

“I just kind of wanted some distraction, but I understood what my friends had been saying about it,” she says. “Before, I had just been having fun. But the second time, I was like, ‘I don’t want to put myself out there. I just got stomped on.’ It’s scary to get disappointed so many times.”

“I didn’t have a negative experience with it,” says Margot, who was only on the site for roughly a week. She had one date, she says. “I just kind of realized that I didn’t really feel like dating online. It felt like a lot of work. After you go on the date, then you have to think about, well, are they going to call me, or is this going to turn into a relationship?”

“When you just want to have fun, and you’re not looking for Mr. Right and the clock isn’t ticking and you’re really open-minded, that’s the best way to use online dating,” says Louise.

But after several years in the real dating world, she says, “It just wasn’t fun anymore.”

Just a Quickie

A film can most easily sustain its quality via brevity. As the Nabokov line has it, “What arrow flies forever? The arrow that has hit its mark.”

This week, inveterate Oscar-poolers get a chance to see what’s in the short film categories in three programs (Best Animated, Best Documentary and Best Live Action). Of the Live Action short nominees, a favorite is the well-received Asad, a story of Somali refugees, filmed by an American on the coast of South Africa using refugees from Somalia as non-pro actors. Another contender is Buzkashi Boys, about the national sport of Afghanistan, a dangerous form of polo using a dead goat as a ball.

A possible victor in the Best Documentary short category is the MTV-produced Inocente, a story of a homeless girl who hasn’t allowed the lack of an address to crush her spirits. As usual, this category is a roundup of upbeat fare about death and serious illness. Mondays with Racine is a short documentary about a beauty salon that gives free makeovers to chemotherapy patients.

The animation category is, as usual, very strong, but the shoo-in for the Oscar is Paperman, a wordless, Disney-made romance set in a 1955 New York cityscape, in which the only spot of color is a lipstick kiss. I call it a shoe-in not just because it’s breathtaking, which it is, but because it was heavily seen last year. Paperman was shown before screenings of the mega-popular Wreck It Ralph; its best-known rival, The Longest Daycare, starring TV suckling Maggie Simpson, was billed with Ice Age: Continental Drift.

The lesser-known animated shorts are stunning. Fresh Guacamole is a stop-motion animated parody of a cooking video, by the ever-ingenious PES. PES’ work plays with the most rare visual puns, but it’s more than just cold ingenuity at play. Watching his shorts, we relearn, with some shock, one of the first lessons of childhood: two things that are shaped alike aren’t the same.

The British Head Over Heels is the saddest and wisest of the show, a short of great imagination regarding a bitter middle-aged couple separated by an immemorial quarrel. They’ve coped by giving each other halves of the house they share. But it’s not physically possible, except in Escherland, to split up a house they way they have done.

Last and least of the five, Adam and Dog by Minkyu Lee is a must for dog lovers. This animator took on a tough topic, the fall of man. But it’s odd how Paperman successfully goes West-East (Billy Wilder meets Ozu) when the opposing Miyazaki/CalArts influences seen here don’t mesh with the same flawlessness.

The 2013 Oscar Nomintated Short Films, presented in three programs, is in theaters now.

Endless Pause

“Nothing happens. Nobody comes. Nobody goes. It’s awful!”

When Samuel Beckett gave those words to a character in his 1952 play Waiting for Godot, he surely realized that they would mirror the thoughts of much of the audience. That’s one of the delights of watching Godot, recognizing that its author was thinking of the audience with each and every unconventional line: teasing them, taunting them, challenging them—but also frequently delighting them. Waiting for Godot, after all, is a comedy. The irony of those lines, early in the script, is as funny as the play itself.

In an immaculate, beautifully stylized new staging now running at the Marin Theatre Company, director Jasson Minadakis works wonders, striking the perfect balance between laughter and heartache.

On an empty road with little more than a rock and a tree to gaze at, two disheveled, Bowler-hatted friends, Estragon and Vladimir, await the imminent arrival of someone named Godot. It is not clear how long they’ve been waiting for Godot, or what will happen once Godot arrives. But until he does, their lives, such as they are, are on hold.

The rich, detailed dialogue, like the world’s longest “Who’s on First?” routine, is perfectly paced by Minadakis, whose committed cast work wonders with the twisty text.

An excellent Mark Bedard, acclaimed for his work with the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, plays Vladimir as a man whose brain is always at work—even though his bladder is not. Adopting a constant feet-to-the-floor shuffle, Bedard never lets us forget the physical discomfort of his character. As Estragon, Mark Anderson Phillips is wonderful, bringing a childlike innocence to his role, alternating between bright flashes of optimism (“Let’s go!” he brightly suggests, often) and deep despair at realizing that he must continue to wait and wait and wait.

The imperious Pozzo (a mesmerizing James Carpenter) and his world-weary servant Lucky (Ben Johnson, astonishing), help to break the monotony of Estragon and Vladimir’s long day. But even they appear to be trapped in a cycle of endless repetition.

Is it all a metaphor for life? A theatrical Rorschach test? A paradoxical parody of the absurdities of existence?

Of course.

But it’s also the simple story of two longtime friends questioning whether they’d be better off apart than together, ultimately recognizing that tiny everyday surprises—those little occurrences that make today different from yesterday—are what make it possible to face our tomorrows, and that facing them together might be better than facing them alone.

Jumping Back In

Having just watched an old episode of Sex & the City, I am feeling very Carrie Bradshaw as I sit at my computer. But there ends the comparison. I do not have a body and a wardrobe like hers, indeed, nor her talent at writing. Like her, however, I am searching for a mate that will love me and complement me.

Why, at the age of 67, am I searching? Almost four years ago, my husband died of cancer. He was 69 years old; we’d been married 41 years. I am not looking to replace him; I am wise enough to know that will never happen. And I have not made the mistake of putting him on a pedestal with the belief that he was perfect.

But I yearn for the companionship, the quick glance or smile, all those little nuances that happen between a couple. “Meal for one” is a low point in my day. And in my aloneness, I turned to standup comedy and found that it alleviated my sadness and gave me much in return. I revel in the compliments from audience members as they thank me for bringing them a few minutes of laughter.

Equally important is the ability to laugh at oneself. I find myself doing just that, as I recently started dating. Yes, it took me a few years to get around to it. I didn’t want to go the route of online dating as the experiences of several single girlfriends mortified me. It took a good friend to nudge me, encourage me and assure me that I was ready for that next step.

I joined a gym to tone my body (as an aside, I’ve lost 60 pounds since I became a widow). But really, how attractive can one be if we are wearing old T-shirts for workout clothes and one’s hair is plastered with perspiration to one’s head? As I look at men at the gym—and I am very good at appearing nonchalant—I find that most of them are wearing a wedding ring. Do single men, I wonder, ever look at my left hand to see if I am wearing a wedding ring?

Wouldn’t it be simpler if, as in a foreign culture I heard of long ago, women could wear a flower behind the right ear to signify they are “taken,” and behind the left ear to mean “available”? (If she wears a flower behind each ear, I recall, it means, “I’m taken, but make me an offer!”)

What I have found is that it isn’t easy to find available men in their 60s. It’s like finding a parking spot—all the good ones are taken, and the rest are handicapped. And don’t get me started about men in their 70s! Like the old saying goes, they are looking for a “nurse and a purse.” In fact, some of them are downright desperate. I had one man in his mid-70s ask me if I could cook! He said he was looking for a domestic partner. I told him he should just look for a domestic, period!

Well, I continue to search—and stay busy. I recently started tango lessons. And to my surprise—maybe it’s the Latin in me—I love the music and the movements. As one partner recently led me in a dance step wherein he intertwined his legs with mine, I thought, “This is as close to sex as I’ve been in years!”

Maybe in the not too distant future, I’ll be singing along with Etta James: “At last, my love has come along. My lonely days are over . . .”

Juicy Cuts

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The live-music scene at steakhouses doesn’t immediately bring to mind hot new bands. Maybe a cheesy lounge-lizard-type crooner or some jazz trio playing in the background while diners pass the gravy.

But now there’s a steakhouse in Healdsburg that’s got some really sizzling, juicy cuts of music. It’s called Frank and Ernie’s, and S.F. psych-rockers Zodiac Death Valley are there this week. These guys are more like something heard at the Bottom of the Hill after midnight rather than after dinner in Healdsburg’s fine-dining scene. A little bit of funk, a little ’70s bravado and a good groove make up most of this band’s sound, brought to life with catchy piano and guitar hooks; imagine a larger, more expansive version of the retro sound that the Black Keys and Jack White hath wrought.

How did Healdsburg get a nightlife? Chalk it up to longtime local K. C. Mosso, who for years has tirelessly vaulted vibrancy and volume into the sleepy after-hours of his hometown, from theaters to restaurants to dive bars. Here’s to Frank and Ernie’s for giving him another platform.

Zodiac Death Valley and the great HugeLarge play Saturday, Feb. 9, at Frank and Ernie’s. 9 Mitchell Lane, Healdsburg. 10:30pm. $5. 707.433.2147.

Beer Week

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San Francisco Beer Week returns this Friday, Feb. 8. That “San Francisco” part is a bit of a misnomer, as nearly one-third of those events will be occurring outside of the City. And the “week” part is a bit iffy as well, as this week lasts 10 glorious days. Rest assured, the “beer’ part remains spot on.

For fellow imbibers looking to celebrate locally, there are a number of SF Beer Week events planned for the North Bay this year. Highlights begin with the Firestone Walker beer dinner (featuring acclaimed brewmaster Matt Brynildson) at Novato’s Hopmonk Tavern on Sunday, Feb. 10 ($65). Barley & Hops Tavern in Occidental offers a specially paired menu with Moonlight Brewing on Feb. 14 ($25), while newly opened Beltane Brewing in Novato releases its Mon Coeur Sauvage chocolate ale with raspberries that same day. (The latter is also a useful reminder not to forget Valentine’s Day.) And the Black and White Beer Ball ($37–$58), a semi-formal benefit headed by Ales for Autism, is held on Friday, Feb. 15, at the Santa Rosa Veterans Memorial Building.<

The Tap Room at Whole Foods Market in Coddingtown hosts a number of events throughout the “week” as well, releasing barrel-aged and sour beers from their cellar, hosting sensory training courses, and featuring a New Belgium Pint Night on Feb. 13. For full details, visit www.sfbeerweek.org

No Laffing Matter

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In 1959, the city of Petaluma bought a 270-acre ranch on Sonoma Mountain to use as a water supply, and by 1962 had planned to eventually use the vast expanse known as Lafferty Ranch as a public park. But in the early 1990s, an intense campaign by stubborn adjacent landowners was launched, successfully stalling the plan. In short, the access road to the park would have crossed a small part of land owned by someone else, and that someone else didn’t want people around.

That someone else was Peter Pfendler. Pfendler famously argued that a 30-foot-square patch of dirt separating the road from the ranch was his, but a suit filed last Thursday by Friends of Lafferty—which includes former Sonoma County Supervisor Bill Kortum—argues otherwise. It names Pfendler’s widow, Kimberly, and the Bettman-Tavernetti family as defendants, and if successful could open the ranch to public access without costing taxpayers a dime, contends Petaluma city councilmember Mike Healy, who assisted in drawing up the title action.

The suit is based on an 1877 property map, but its real key may lie in the absence of Peter Pfendler, who was the most vocal (and wealthy) opponent. (He died in 2007.) After spending over $900,000 in studies and legal costs, the city of Petaluma abandoned the fight against Pfendler in 2002. Now that the city buys most of its water from the county water agency, the land sits unused.

The suit seeks no money, merely the right to establish a county road right-of-way, thereby allowing access to the patch of weeds and grass that could be fixed up into a beautiful park. Someday.

Pure Imagination

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Most people don’t recognize cocoa in its unprocessed form. The pulp-covered beans resemble chitlins more than chocolate, and the taste is just as off-putting.

But what if you let them ferment in that pulp for a week or so, wash and roast the beans, crack the husks and grind the tiny nibs until they release the cocoa butter? Add superfine sugar and temper the chocolate carefully with a molcajete and then a marble slab, and let it set for a few more hours?

Bam! The resulting gloppy mess will be the most unnecessarily labor-intensive love gift your sweetheart will never really appreciate.

“Very few people go from bean to chocolate,” says Lynn Wong, owner of Viva Cocolat in Petaluma, of making one’s own chocolate. “Those who do tend to stay with the bar.”

This is good advice for those with the DIY mindset. Craft beer and homemade pickles are one thing, but homemade chocolate is not the best idea. Making chocolate isn’t easy. Even with the right equipment, patience and skill, there are too many things that can go wrong. Starting with someone else’s chocolate seems to be the best approach.

Wong makes a few of the confections in her shop, but mostly sticks to artisans like Barlovento from Oakland or Moonstruck from Washington. It’s not just about sinful decadence these days, she says. There’s a trend toward savory sweets with additions like cardamom, fennel and even cheese. “Now they’re getting more adventurous with it,” she says.

Speaking of adventurous, how about a nip slip? The most popular item at Gandolf’s Fine Chocolate is the Nipple of Venus, says Guy Daniels, proprietor of the Santa Rosa–based business. Daniels creates truffles using both Belgian and American chocolate, and suggests home chocolatiers might be able to create acceptable goodies with enough patience. “Some things can come out really well. It just depends on timing, skill and luck,” seays the 13-year chocolate veteran.

Even See’s doesn’t mess with cocoa beans—and the San Francisco company sticks to a roster of traditional favorites. “See’s has a deep-rooted history, and they’ve been making their candies the same way for the past 90 years,” says spokeswoman Christina Wong. “See’s is not about following trends.” The company gets its chocolate from Guittard Chocolate of Burlingame, and in true world-of-pure-imagination fashion, it’s pumped in from a tanker truck into the See’s factory in liquid form.

“I was an amateur chocolatier,” says David Gambill, owner of Sonoma Chocolatiers. Thirty years have passed since starting the practice, he says, and “looking back on what I made then and what I make now, I wouldn’t bother eating what I made then.”

Putting the whole “grow your own” theory to rest, Gambill explains the difference between chocolate and chocolates. “Pastry chefs don’t make their own flour,” he says. “Chocolatiers don’t make their own chocolate.” The skill sets required for the two facets are simply too different, and to make a good chocolate requires the genetic disposition of a supertaster. “I don’t encourage anyone to try to make chocolate at home from their own roasted cocoa beans,” says Gambill.

Bottom line: chocolate is difficult to make, and it’s not going to be great (or even good, probably) the first few attempts. Just buy the damn chocolate.

When I Paint My Masterpiece

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EnPleinAirRRBC.jpg

“You know what? Screw it. I’m tired of painting at the beach. I’m tired of painting beautiful coastal sunsets. I’m tired of painting rolling golden hills, and lush green vineyards, and mountainside streams. I’m a Sonoma County painter, dammit, and I’m gonna paint a bunch of people waiting in line to drink beer.”

Thrifting

When new, thats a $150 lambswool sweater

  • When new, that’s a $150 lambswool sweater

Thrifting can be a glorious endeavor, but it’s not a sport for the impulsive. Garages full of useless shit that “might be worth something” have led me to much unhappiness. It’s best to keep purchases to things you can actually use, like clothes and shoes that fit (not clothes you’d like to fit into someday) and things you can and will use tomorrow.

Usually the latter fits into a category of things that have been needed recently but weren’t available, or something that will make an everyday task simpler. This must be something not already in the house. An adorable peeing boy corkscrew is not useful, and will immediately be regarded in the household as useless clutter. Stay away from knick-knacks in general, and remember that electronics are always a crapshoot. Anything in the glass case at the counter is going to be junk, so don’t even bother looking unless you have something already in mind.

Also, don’t buy a project. Big, fancy speakers will probably sound great, but chances are there’s something wrong with them and you probably already have speakers hooked up to a stereo. This violates two rules of thifting already. There’s another very, very important rule that may not apply to everyone, but when it does, it’s the most important. Will the person with whom you share a house be pleased with this purchase? There’s varying degrees of “pleased,” ranging from acceptance (a minor eyeroll) to anger (loud, vulgar and ceaseless questioning). That velvet painting of a topless, soulful woman from the 70s may be your idea of high-art, but your housemate (let’s be real, I’m talking about a spouse or partner, here) will probably have a different opinion.

Clothes, on the other hand, are personal. They’re cheap and will be on display on your body, and if South Park has taught us anything, “It’s MY body and I can do what I want with it.” So If I want to wear orange plaid pants and penny loafers, that’s my business. And If I want to pick out a classy outfit that I may wear just once it will be affordable and memorable. But the other rules of thifting still apply: No projects and it must be usable/wearable immediately.

This would be a $60 merino wool sweater in a department store

  • This would be a $60 merino wool sweater in a department store

Clothes can have minor defects, too, so check them over thoroughly. They might be forgivable, like a tiny hole in the cuff of a sweater, or a scratch on a shoe that will likely buff out. Stains are a sin, as are rips, large tears and extreme ill-fitting. Remember, this stuff is cheap and often discounted after the sticker price. It’s OK to make it back and donate it one you find out it won’t work or if you just don’t like it. This is a much better solution than comply keeping a closet full of clothes that just didn’t make the cut. Be honest with yourself and don’t be afraid to re-donate. For constant thifters, it might be a good idea to keep a bag of clothes in the car ready to drop off.

The idea of buying something second-hand makes me feel like I’m helping the planet. That sweater didn’t need any more energy put into it’s creation, and that money went to charity while I still look like a million bucks (or at least $200). It’s best not to get political, here. There are thrift stores that donate to charities which might not be fully aligned with one’s internal beliefs. Salvation Army, for instance, has donated large sums of money to political campaigns against gay rights. But remember, it’s not really about helping the cause, it’s about buying cheap stuff.

Doesnt matter who you are, chances are this will come in handy one day

  • Doesn’t matter who you are, chances are this will come in handy one day

Not So OK, Cupid

In a small town, online dating can sting in big ways

Just a Quickie

Oscar shorts program rife with inspiration

Endless Pause

MTC conquers 'Waiting for Godot'

Jumping Back In

A wishful widow surveys the dating scene

Juicy Cuts

Zodiac Death Valley get raw at Healdsburg steakhouse

Beer Week

San Francisco Beer Week returns this Friday, Feb. 8. That "San Francisco" part is a bit of a misnomer, as nearly one-third of those events will be occurring outside of the City. And the "week" part is a bit iffy as well, as this week lasts 10 glorious days. Rest assured, the "beer' part remains spot on. For fellow imbibers...

No Laffing Matter

In 1959, the city of Petaluma bought a 270-acre ranch on Sonoma Mountain to use as a water supply, and by 1962 had planned to eventually use the vast expanse known as Lafferty Ranch as a public park. But in the early 1990s, an intense campaign by stubborn adjacent landowners was launched, successfully stalling the plan. In short, the...

Pure Imagination

Hey, all you DIY types—thinking of making your own chocolate this Valentine's Day? Think again

When I Paint My Masterpiece

"You know what? Screw it. I'm tired of painting at the beach. I'm tired of painting beautiful coastal sunsets. I'm tired of painting rolling golden hills, and lush green vineyards, and mountainside streams. I'm a Sonoma County painter, dammit, and I'm gonna paint a bunch of people waiting in line to drink beer."

Thrifting

It can be fun if you follow the rules.
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