Reviews and recommendations are unbiased and products are independently selected. Postmedia may earn an affiliate commission from purchases made through links on this page. The women at the back table of the Bottleneck bar on Granville Street are a cluster of long locks, funky accessories, a mix of tanned and fair, naturally athletic bodies and discreetly dabbed lip gloss.
The conversation about the impossibility of finding man-love in Lotus Land ricochets between raucous laughter and thoughtful reflection until the table goes silent and the subject finally sinks, like a stone thrown in an impossibly dark wishing well. Start your day with a roundup of B. By signing up you consent to receive the above newsletter from Postmedia Network Inc. A welcome email is on its way. If you don't see it, please check your junk folder.
The next issue of Sunrise will soon be in your inbox. We encountered an issue signing you up. Please try again. Same-sex dating in Vancouver has its own set of opportunities and challenges that warrants a whole other article. At 46, Radu is tall and graceful with a sweet smile and a sexy rock-chic style.
Not jaded, no hard edges, no obvious baggage. Maybe the chemistry will be there in person. For all her efforts online, there has been a zero compatibility outcome. For a lark one night, she posted a personal ad on Craigslist. The next morning she had dozens of replies. She followed up with email contact. Most of the guys wanted her photo before going further. Once they saw it, their pictures started coming in. Radu shakes her head.
An out-of-shape year-old? No thanks. Even before the article ran, women were, well, bitching. They could dress a little better, though. So, why is it so hard to meet someone in Vancouver? Is it geography? Is it the way the city is spread out and shuts down early, its denizens more likely to rise at dawn to pound up the North Shore mountains on their bikes before work than lie in and roll over for a little good morning sex?
