|
|
Singles mingle at local club dances By Dave Roepke, The Forum Published Saturday, March 04, 2006
After his first wife died, Don Fornes felt awkward socializing with his married friends.
Groups of four, six and eight had become groups of three, five and seven. When they played cards or danced, he was the odd man out. That’s why he left the Fargo Eagles Club early on a Saturday night shortly after his wife passed away. As he walked out, the doorman pulled him aside. He knew Fornes’ wife had died.
You should stop in at the singles dance over at The Bowler, the doorman said. Fornes was skeptical, but he had to drive by the bowling alley to get to his south Fargo home anyway.
“I figured I might as well stick my nose in and see what’s going on,” he says now, a quarter century later.
As soon as he walked in, Fornes saw a half dozen people he knew. This was what he was looking for, and he didn’t even know he was looking for something.
“I just waltzed in there and felt right at home,” he says.
He soon became a regular at the singles dances and met his second wife. When she died in 1991, he met his third wife the same way. They’ve been married 11 years now.
So the Red River Valley Singles Club lost another pair of members. Twice. In the club’s 30 years of existence, it’s happened dozens of times, definitely more than 50 but probably less than a hundred, says Kurt Kingsbury, the club’s publicity director.
Neither Kingsbury nor anyone else minds when a couple pairs off. Losing membership is what this club is all about.
The singles who turn out for the club’s twice-a-month dances aren’t the sort you see in movies and on TV shows.
They’re not swinging bachelors and bachelorettes in their 20s and 30s. A handful of the 130 or so in attendance are in their 40s, but most – well over three quarters – are 50 or older. Everyone I spoke to at a dance a few days before Valentine’s Day was a divorcee, widow or widower.
Like most of the group’s dances, this one was at a ballroom in the Doublewood Inn in Fargo. In a room with so much loss lingering, the vibe could be dour. But these people come here to get away from that, to move on. Most of them were having a heck of a time, dancing to golden oldies courtesy of a quiet cover band.
“They’re not going to play Coldplay,” says club president Corinne Renner. “That’s just a demographic issue.”
Attendees range from the merely friendly to the outright flirty, liberated by the knowledge they won’t be barking up a married tree.
That’s one of the draws for Mary Donegan, who is sitting with a group of about eight friends at a large round table. She likes being able to ask a man to dance without looking over her shoulder. “I don’t want the wife coming up behind me,” she says.
No one in Donegan’s group has had much luck with love tonight, but they laugh often. One member of her circle is Doug Schmidt, a Carrington, N.D., man who came as “the doctor of love” to one of the club’s Halloween dances.
“I haven’t found anyone special yet, but they’re all special,” he says. “If it happens, it happens.”
Gloria Fornes, Don’s wife, agrees that dating again brings out the teen in people whose teens aren’t even teens anymore.
“We could drink coffee until three in the morning if we wanted to, and it wasn’t wrong,” she says.
But there is good reason for urgency. “I’m too old to go three or four years and find out we won’t work out,” one member said.
That’s why one couple got engaged around Christmas.
Renner says not everybody joins the club with romance in mind (though she’s been with a couple guys she’s met there).
Some just want to get out and meet people. Others were steered here by support groups.
It’s usually a struggle for first-timers, Renner says. “It takes a lot of courage to come alone to something like this,” she says.
When she was still coming to events on a regular basis, Gloria Fornes tried to help newcomers by introducing them to people. “You can tell the ones that are shell-shocked when they walk in,” she says.
Betty Larson doesn’t seem shell-shocked, but you could understand it if she was. Just a few days ago, the middle-aged woman from Ada, Minn., finalized her divorce with her husband of 27 years. Her father died on Christmas Eve.
She’s at the dance with her mother. This is Larson’s second time at one of these get-togethers, and she says she’s having a good time. It helps her forget about things.
“I don’t want to rush into a relationship,” she says after buying a drink at the bar. “I want to get out all of the bad stuff first.”
It’s an ideal spot for that sort of thing. Lots of people around who’ve been through the same. Fornes wishes more people would realize that. She thinks the club is one of the area’s best-kept secrets.
“I read the divorces in the paper and I think, ‘Where are all these people?’ ” she says.
Maybe they should talk to Schmidt, the former doctor of love. His prescription: “If you can’t have a good time here, it’s not worth living,” he says.
Readers can reach Forum reporter Dave Roepke at (701) 241-5535 Michael Vosburg / Forum photo editor
(The original article has been edited for length and content by request.)
|
|
|
|
|