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As a writing instructor, I had an ironclad rule (unarticulated, of course! An editor taking the course wrote some poignant essays about his son's wedding, becoming a grandfather and learning to live alone. Think about splitting the rental of a group ski lodge or beach house.
I waited until after the last session, then made my move: "If you sell any of those pieces," I told him, "I hope you'll let me know. you can get in touch even if you don't sell them." He called the next week, and we went out until I discovered he wasn't exactly living alone. It's a great way to meet like-minded people — provided, of course, you like skiing or the beach!
My friend Leslie met her future husband, Paul, when they sat next to each other on a plane to San Francisco. On a bench inside Philadelphia's Penn Station, waiting for his train to Washington, an acquaintance named Bob started talking with the woman beside him.
Actually, it was his train, but he had the presence of mind to get her number.
One phone call, 25 years and five children later, they are married and still talking — and traveling — together.
I happen to love the latter, so for years I bought weekend shares in single-parent beach houses.
As with my "no students" rule, I never dated a fellow house member; when we played charades or had barbecues with people in the community, however, I did meet a few men I wound up dating back in the city.
At another, I struck up a conversation with the handsome, funny bartender, who happened to be an actor. We smiled, sat down on a bench and started talking. Next he tried Italian cooking, with better results: The class involved preparing dishes with a partner, so Larry picked the entrée course — and a single-woman partner.