Lake Ida Dog Park. If you are person with a new puppy, there is no better place to pick up the opposite sex than this Delray Beach dog-lovers hideaway. You don't even have to mack here fellas, let your cutie-pie Jack Russell do all the heavy lifting and watch all the gals flock your way.
Make sure to act responsibly and bring your pooper scooper though, this isn't your neighbor's front yard. Be conscientious, we know the dog crap is biodegradable but you need to act especially caring of your pup, like his turds don't bother you. You know how there are people that love their dogs, and then there are people that love their dogs.
Be the latter, make it seem like Spencer your newborn Jack Russell of course is more like your newborn child. Here you'll meet the ladies fresh from working out, young moms in spandex eagerly staying fit, stocking up on kale, quinoa, and tempeh. There's also a multitude of vegetarians, pescatarian, and vegetarian dudes, some in dreads and industrial earrings, and others simply health food fanatics with tight fitting muscle shirts.
Lunchtime is ideal, plenty of opportunities arise when in the warm food section, choosing between vegan burgers or beet hummus, or in the smoothie line, which is always a little longer during the lunch rush.
It offers up the best of both West Palm Beach worlds, drawing as many people from the "Island," as it does from "the wrong side of the tracks. The happy hours are raucous and the evenings offer up even more revelry.
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There's bands too on most nights, bringing with it the unpredictability of the live music crowd. Hands down, Bradley's is probably the most established pick-up spot on our list. Lots of options to choose from. This is where you'll find that mustachioed fixed-gear riding homeboy who acts as if he doesn't care about his hair, but who secretly spends at least 30 minutes camped out with a hair straightener before going out. There are also a wide assortment of musicians and artists and general Lake Worth creative sorts to choose from.
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They are all broke of course, but you wouldn't go to Propaganda to meet a sugar daddy we'll get that next, hold your horses. For the fellas, Thursday's ladies' night, and its complimentary cocktails until midnight bring out the women in droves. This reggae-intense night attracts an entirely differently type of gal than the standard Suicide Girl lookalikes that normally frequent this indie dive. You'll find ladies with flowing blouses and no bra underneath with glossy eyes and hemp bracelets abounding.
Catch up on your Grateful Dead and Jimmy Cliff before heading out, you know, for small talk's sake. Located inside posh and pricey Chesterfield Hotel, the name of this chic lounge says it all. Cougars fill this Palm Beach island hotspot to the brim. The kind of silver-haired old money honeys that can wipe out student loans in one fell swoop and who valet their Bentleys and Rolls Royces before heading in to savor the Leopard Lounge's renowned caviar.
With dark woods, glossy black leather booths, and hand-painted ceilings, you'd think you just stepped into The Great Gatsby novel. Plenty of gentlemen in their 50s too are eagerly awaiting the next beauty in their 20s to decorate their arms. Wear your best Patek Philippe knock-off watch for this one, as you are likely to be rubbing elbows with a hotel heiress of some sort.
The right kind of hookup here can make sure even your kid's kids are set for life. Even if you think kickball should be reserved exclusively for kids in elementary school, you have to realize that single people join kickball teams for one reason, and it's not to score runs. They want to meet people, mingle, and partake in the camaraderie that comes with a team sport. Some are new in town, others looking for a fresh crowd to hang out with; whatever it is, there's a void to fill.
It doesn't matter if you play kickball really, just eavesdrop on the "socially active" guy in the cubicle next to you and find out where his team is going for drinks after the game, and crash the party.
Perhaps wear those snugly fit shorts that baseball coaches use to fit in. Local non denominational church service, or for more concentrated flirting, try a non denominational church's singles night. What most people don't know about these type of services is attendees generally tend to be more open minded than traditional churchgoers. There are a multitude of born-agains former bad girls mending their ways or spiritually lost broke investment brokers individuals looking for answers. Being with him was the most natural thing in the world.
It was just a matter of not wanting to be apart, even to sleep. It just felt right, good, and comfortable… like it was meant to be. We came home after dinner Saturday night, and put on music so he could show me how to two-step to country. I laughed as he led. He was so good at leading me… no easy thing. And when we slow danced out the under the stars, just the two of us, I was perfectly happy. I felt it being in his arms.
And when we made love we kept our eyes wide open like we meant it. Like it was real and it was felt. He left on Monday with a promise to stay in touch and come back to see me soon. At first I was concerned that he wanted to get too involved with me too quickly, after I felt I had just finally hit my stride being solo and independent. But a week later I found myself thinking about him more than I expected. It was the way we were together intimately.
It was the intimacy that set the hook in me. It was eyes opened making love. It felt like it was meant to be. Yesterday I took a look at his Facebook page; A charity event he had attended had posted a public photo of Tom.
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He had a beaming smile, the same smile he had with me. His arm was wrapped tightly around a plain faced woman; the old girlfriend. He looked very happy. I wish he had just told me.
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It hurt like hell. I should have known better. I feel like a fool now, for thinking that. Had we not been intimate, I could now playfully chide him about his fickleness. He responded by blocking me on Facebook. But its my fault. I have checked out of the man hunting mode…. I am not hunting anymore. I prefer to be hunted. Each love is as unique as the two people who are engaged in it. This November it will be six whole years since I came home to find that Rupert, my husband had hung himself in our garage barn. It was two life times ago, actually, three lives ago.
The first being our life as a couple together, then as the shocked, numb, woman running hard and fast, trying to move forward while processing the unspeakable horror of that night and staggering through the profound, complicated debris field left behind. I am no longer panicked by time, age or loss. Lovers have come and gone, false starts have been made in an occupation. New friendships have been made and old ones rediscovered, and the false friends revealed and cast off. I am an unusual one. Confident, intellectually curious, outgoing and social and yet, loving to be alone and independent.
I have decided that worry does not suit me. I am much better as the confident person I naturally am, to believe in myself, and just do what I need to do, to be where I want yet to be. I am fortunate to have been born brave and bold.