California is renowned for its tofu-and-granola lesbians, but there seem to be more vegetarian lesbians per capita in South Florida than in Los Angeles and San Francisco combined. Pick your type -- Birkenstock, butch, lipstick, or new age -- and she'll be roaming the aisles at the Fort Lauderdale Whole Foods Market. But the dykiest section of the store is definitely the prepared-foods counter. You can peruse grilled tofu while cruising the chic chick next to you as she examines the veggie sushi with one eye and your abs with the other. At least you know you'll have enough in common to agree on a restaurant for your first date. If you don't want to wait that long, grab your food right then and see if she offers to pay for your meal when you reach the cashier. Or you can always stalk the vitamin aisle and ask your prey, "What brand of B-12 do you suggest if we're going to stay up all night?"

California is renowned for its tofu-and-granola lesbians, but there seem to be more vegetarian lesbians per capita in South Florida than in Los Angeles and San Francisco combined. Pick your type -- Birkenstock, butch, lipstick, or new age -- and she'll be roaming the aisles at the Fort Lauderdale Whole Foods Market. But the dykiest section of the store is definitely the prepared-foods counter. You can peruse grilled tofu while cruising the chic chick next to you as she examines the veggie sushi with one eye and your abs with the other. At least you know you'll have enough in common to agree on a restaurant for your first date. If you don't want to wait that long, grab your food right then and see if she offers to pay for your meal when you reach the cashier. Or you can always stalk the vitamin aisle and ask your prey, "What brand of B-12 do you suggest if we're going to stay up all night?"

What are the two greatest impediments to meeting that special someone? Temporal constraints and disjunction, of course. (You know: being in the right place at the right time.) If you could just get Mr. or Ms. Right to sit still for a while beside you, the magic would flow like words from a poet's pen. Well, what better place than the peaceful, laid-back setting of a blood bank? Strapped to a blood bag for ten minutes, you're putting your best altruistic foot... er, arm, forward for all to see (not to mention passing a basic health questionnaire). Resting in that psychotherapeutic incline, the conversation will come naturally between you and your newfound love interest. You'll get far past the whatta-ya-do-for-a-livin' questions. Best of all, you can seal the deal over cookies and OJ while the object of your attraction remains delightfully lightheaded.

What are the two greatest impediments to meeting that special someone? Temporal constraints and disjunction, of course. (You know: being in the right place at the right time.) If you could just get Mr. or Ms. Right to sit still for a while beside you, the magic would flow like words from a poet's pen. Well, what better place than the peaceful, laid-back setting of a blood bank? Strapped to a blood bag for ten minutes, you're putting your best altruistic foot... er, arm, forward for all to see (not to mention passing a basic health questionnaire). Resting in that psychotherapeutic incline, the conversation will come naturally between you and your newfound love interest. You'll get far past the whatta-ya-do-for-a-livin' questions. Best of all, you can seal the deal over cookies and OJ while the object of your attraction remains delightfully lightheaded.

Admit it: Once you've decided to end it, the painful part isn't ejecting Mr. or Ms. Wrong from your life; it's facing the music when you break the news. There are, quite understandably, personal safety issues to consider. Well, buck up, all you heartbreakers out there: At the airport, all the security work has been done for you. Step One: Feign a trip for you and the one you don't love. Step Two: Pass through the metal detectors, where the threat of sharp objects will be removed. Step Three: Tarry beside the M16-wielding National Guarders who inevitably hang around the luggage checkers, then proclaim the split. If the announcement goes over like a Bowie knife in a suitcase, call in the camo.

Admit it: Once you've decided to end it, the painful part isn't ejecting Mr. or Ms. Wrong from your life; it's facing the music when you break the news. There are, quite understandably, personal safety issues to consider. Well, buck up, all you heartbreakers out there: At the airport, all the security work has been done for you. Step One: Feign a trip for you and the one you don't love. Step Two: Pass through the metal detectors, where the threat of sharp objects will be removed. Step Three: Tarry beside the M16-wielding National Guarders who inevitably hang around the luggage checkers, then proclaim the split. If the announcement goes over like a Bowie knife in a suitcase, call in the camo.

Tell your ex you've planned a surprise, and let the wooing begin. Setting the scene is everything, and this is one of the few stretches of Fort Lauderdale beach covered with bare sand instead of condos. Just north of the hustle and bustle of Las Olas, you've got instant romance that won't cost you a dime, as long as you read the parking restrictions. Go at night for the whole moonlit-walk-on-the-beach theme. If you want to make it really special, prepare a dinner picnic featuring all of your intended-to-be-once-again's favorite foods, plus treats like strawberries and chocolate. That doesn't take any imagination but always gets you major points. You can hold hands as you stroll on the sand, dip your toes in the breaking surf, and promise to do better this time. If all goes well, you'll be happily coupled again. If it doesn't, you didn't drop a fortune on dinner, drinks, appetizers, and dessert at some pricey restaurant. Your only problem will be lugging the cooler back to the car by yourself.

Tell your ex you've planned a surprise, and let the wooing begin. Setting the scene is everything, and this is one of the few stretches of Fort Lauderdale beach covered with bare sand instead of condos. Just north of the hustle and bustle of Las Olas, you've got instant romance that won't cost you a dime, as long as you read the parking restrictions. Go at night for the whole moonlit-walk-on-the-beach theme. If you want to make it really special, prepare a dinner picnic featuring all of your intended-to-be-once-again's favorite foods, plus treats like strawberries and chocolate. That doesn't take any imagination but always gets you major points. You can hold hands as you stroll on the sand, dip your toes in the breaking surf, and promise to do better this time. If all goes well, you'll be happily coupled again. If it doesn't, you didn't drop a fortune on dinner, drinks, appetizers, and dessert at some pricey restaurant. Your only problem will be lugging the cooler back to the car by yourself.

The great thing about this hotly contested March 12 election was that the whole town got involved, whether for or against the $19 million bond issue to renovate the aging 1920s casino and surrounding amenities of the town's public beach. It was topic A in local conversation for months, and every square inch of lawn in town seemed to be plastered with "Yes" or "No" placards. While the beach and its structures clearly are in need of repair, citizen resistance to the proposal was galvanized by the fact that the PAC urging passage of the bond was funded in part by businesses that stood to profit from it. That -- and the little town's innate resistance to wholesale change -- proved too much for even the likes of slick bond champion Mayor Rodney Romano to overcome. Voters just said "No" by a 3-2 margin, a showing that said as much about the citizens' feelings of being bulldozed as about their feelings regarding beach repair.

The great thing about this hotly contested March 12 election was that the whole town got involved, whether for or against the $19 million bond issue to renovate the aging 1920s casino and surrounding amenities of the town's public beach. It was topic A in local conversation for months, and every square inch of lawn in town seemed to be plastered with "Yes" or "No" placards. While the beach and its structures clearly are in need of repair, citizen resistance to the proposal was galvanized by the fact that the PAC urging passage of the bond was funded in part by businesses that stood to profit from it. That -- and the little town's innate resistance to wholesale change -- proved too much for even the likes of slick bond champion Mayor Rodney Romano to overcome. Voters just said "No" by a 3-2 margin, a showing that said as much about the citizens' feelings of being bulldozed as about their feelings regarding beach repair.