When I lived in Texas I joined Parents Without Partners--I don't know if that organization still exists, but back then it was a way for folks to attend meetings  and have social contact while leaving the kiddies at home. At the get togethers, there would be at least 10 women for every man, so even the glunkiest looking guys--well let's say losers--would be flirted with, and pursued. At one get together, a guy attended bar, a woman had set up a table to read Tarot cards, and the guest speaker was a man who had a business where you could take lessons to parachute out of a plane.
At another meeting we all met at a guy's house for a BBQ. The guy had smoked the most delicious brisket I ever tasted. We had all brought side dishes to go with it. So we were socializing on the patio while his mother sat dourly watching. The BBQ man had lived with his mother for 15 years, ever since his divorce. It was clear he was content with the situation--he and his mother didn't want change. His mother cooked, cleaned house, laundered his clothes--why did he need a woman--except for sex, he was fixed.
I also joined a writer's guild, and liked that more. Most of the writer's had been published in one form or another; some were waiting to hear from publisher's, but most of us were writing writing writing and esentially getting nowhere. But I enjoyed being in that group. We had a Christmas party at a restaurant and one of the female writers brought her husband. He walked in and ZING! We looked at each other and it was lightning bolts. He sat next to me at the table. My napkin slid off the lap of my silk pants onto the floor. I leaned over to get it, and he said I'll get it. Our fingertips touched. Fire! I restored the napkin. He reached over under the tablecloth and held my hand. My God, what is it about instant attraction? His wife was watching. She knew something was up. Maybe he had done something like that before.

Fast forward a few years. I joined a newly formed group in Hattiesburg where singles could meet. 7pm. About 12 women showed up, the president of the club introduced the guest speaker whose topic was going to be "Helping Children Cope With Divorce." A man walked in, a scrawny balding guy who sat down and looked around like a weasel casing a henhouse. Then he stood up and left without a word. As he was exiting the door, a good ole boy type was coming in. The weasel said to him loud enough for us all to hear "Don't waste your time. Ain't a one of them good lookin." And they both turned and left.

The guest speaker's face flushed. She slammed her papers down on the table and said MEN! Then she said "Why don't we talk about MEN!" I never went back after that. I had been pronounced not good lookin' by a weasel. How low of a blow is that?

susil