Baltimore dating club

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Monty was a dashing silver-haired photographer known for his elegant cocktail parties, Elliot a clever bartender in horn-rimmed glasses who was also a sportswriter. Numbered among the most recent crop of emerging singles is my fetching friend Strawberry Shortcake, a wide-eyed Girl Scout type fifteen years younger than I, hence not as scarred by the dissolution and depravity of the 1970s and 80s. marriages end in divorce, there are more single people in their thirties, forties and fifties than ever before. I have no answer to these questions but I do know this -- there are only two single men in Baltimore and they both have girlfriends. In 2009, when I arrived in town newly separated, helpful friends pointed out two fellows I'll call Monty and Elliot.We slithered into the long narrow cavern of Leadbetter's, where customers and band were smushed together in two straight lines like the girls in Madeline.

Strawberry knew of him, though it was now said he had a girlfriend.

The party was congenial enough, but Monty had a girlfriend in the kitchen.

There was at least one other eligible man there, though even from a distance he appeared gloomy and tormented; it turned out he was the "Hot Neighbor" of Lauraville whose very recent marital breakup had already gone out over the wires. When I explained, he brightened for a moment before sinking back into his bitter malaise. With the possibilities chez Monty so quickly disposed of, I suggested to Strawberry that we hit the bars and see what might be available.

He set Strawberry and me up with glasses of rosé and asked what we'd been up to.

We told him we'd been at a party at Monty's, who is normally one of Elliot's Saturday night regulars.

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