Month: February 2011

Extreme Makeover: Blog Edition

Welcome to the new and improved After I Quit My Day Job!  (If you’re reading this post as an email, come on over to the actual site because— not that I’m biased or anything— but it looks awesome.) Today marks the end of February, which in turn marks the end of my first month on the Post-a-day Challenge.  (Sounds like some sort of diet, doesn’t it?)  As you can tell from the nifty calendar feature at the bottom of this page, I’ve managed to publish a new post every day for an entire month!  Granted, I chose the shortest month of the year to get started but if we can all just ignore this fact, that’d be lovely. So, about all of those new features I promised… Never, in a million years, did I imagine that I’d end up writing a column—let alone an entire blog—about dating.  And I love it, and presumably most of you love it as well, but I do feel like my non-dating brain cells have been getting a bit neglected …

Driving in Circles

You’re going to have to accept my apologies for today’s post.  It was going to be all about my triumphant return to Match.com (which, in truth, hasn’t been so triumphant after all) but then my brother came to visit and I was forced to spend the majority of my evening driving around in circles behind the Ikea on Columbus Boulevard. Why?  Well, my brother does love DIY furniture (we’ve gone the last two times he’s come to visit; if I had a therapist he or she would probably tell me that I need to stop trying to redecorate my brother’s apartment and find myself an eligible bachelor with a pad of his own—one to whom I’m not related—in which to indulge my Extreme Home Makeover tendencies) but that wasn’t why we went to Ikea. We went to Ikea because my dad got a new car.  And because my dad refuses to embrace modern technology (Facebook, Twitter, Netflix-on-Demand, etc.) he couldn’t buy a car with an automatic transmission.  Oh no.  He had to buy a stick …

And so it Begins… Again

It’s 2:00pm.  I’m a coffee shop in Mt. Airy between teaching gigs and despite outward appearances, I am working. I know it doesn’t look like it—I’m drinking a “hot hot chocolate” and my web browser is open to approximately four different dating sites—but I really am working, I swear.  Just ask my new editor over at AOL’s City’s Best: Philadelphia. First order of business?  To reactive my Match.com subscription. Lucky for me, they’ve kept my old profile and all of my photographs.  (I don’t know whether to be relieved by this—at least I won’t have to start from scratch?— or creped out.  Companies like Match.com and eHarmony aren’t exactly known for their business ethics and for all I know, I’ve been added to some sort of terrorist watch list.) Match provides me with approximately seventeen “optional add-ons” for my subscription.  They’re only optional, however, if you manage to outsmart the system (which I do, thanks to my familiarity with their “automatic renewal” policies) and complete your order a la carte. First up is a feature …

A Column(ist) is Born!

Did I mention that I’ll be getting paid to date this time around? My dad’s always said “Figure out what it is that you love and then figure out how to make a living at it.”  Well, I love men.  I love shoes.  I love getting dressed up and as those of you reading this know, I love to date.  As far as I can tell, there are two and only two ways to turn these sorts of “interests” into some form of gainful employment. I could become an escort—a high priced call girl, if you will—or I could write a column. I’m not sure that this was exactly what my dad had in mind—writing a bi-weekly column about online dating is a far cry from proper Pulitzer-worthy journalism—but it’s still pretty damn exciting.  Plus, the only thing I enjoy more than writing about myself is writing about myself when I’m wearing heels and heading out to meet some handsome stranger in yet another fancy restaurant. So I’m going back on Match.com (thank God! eHarmony …

Did I Learn ANYTHING from My Experiment? Yes, Actually…

Earlier this week, I finished “The Science of Single” by Rachel Machacek.  This means I’m nearly back on track with my a-book-a-week initiative but more importantly, I think I’ve cracked the code. Whether you subscribe to “The Rules” or the so-called “science” of PSM compatibility as purported by the likes of eHarmony, every scrap of relationship advice ever offered boils down to the same thing: confidence.  If you exude confidence, you attract confidence and if you attract confidence, well, everyone knows there’s nothing sexier than a confident man. (Except perhaps for a confident man who likes to cook, cooks well and grates cheese on his own abdominals.) But getting back to my theory: aside from a few months of angsting over Date #17, I kind of forgot to analyze the results of my experiment.  Had I made the proper calculations (or whatever it is that real scientists do) I would have discovered the following: I was at an all-time confidence HIGH when I met the Man from Marshalls.  I mean seriously, what’s the likelihood of …

Today’s Writing “Wednesday” Topic: Freelancing 101

Recently, I received a note from an aspiring writer of the 20-something variety.  Oddly enough, she was asking for my advice.  Having just opened what I assume will be the first of many rejection letters from one of the well-known women’s glossies I’m determined to break into, I was rather taken aback: me?  Advice? “But I don’t have a clue!” I exclaimed (to no one in particular.  Even after seven months of serial dating, I’m still single).  Sure, I’ve reached the point where my income as a freelancer now requires its very own IRS paperwork and the plastic file folder that serves as my portfolio is getting rather crowded but I’m not exactly contending for the Pulitzer Prize. At least not yet. But I have learned a thing or two along the way, and for the sake of all those who’ve given me a hand over the years, I’m going to attempt to follow suit. And so, the first installment of Freelancing 101: First and foremost, head over to your local library and take a …

Yet Another Reason to Embrace the Single Life

After seven days of grueling chocolate consumption, I’ve finally polished off the last of my Valentine’s Day candy.  This is not to suggest that I had any great number of suitors showering me with gifts last week (I received one and only one Valentine this year; it was from one of my preschoolers and it was not edible), but instead that my mother is a professional when it comes to scoping out half-price post-holiday sales. And in this case, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. “I bought you peanut butter M&Ms!” she announced triumphantly when I arrived home from work on Wednesday. “I bought you peanut butter M&Ms!” I replied, brandishing my own shopping bag.  In truth I planned to eat most of the M&Ms myself (it was a “family” bag, if you will) but I kept this thought private. “Where’d you get yours?” she asked. “Riteaid.  Clearance sale.  You?” “Riteaid.” And no, I’m not making this up.  My mother and I went two separate Riteaids and bought two separate bags of peanut …

Oh Yeah: it’s President’s Day

Today is President’s Day here in the US.  I know this because when I dismissed my final Friday morning class with my usual, “Have a nice weekend, friends.  See you Monday!” one of my more precocious preschoolers piped up.  “No you won’t Miss Kat,” he informed me.  “Because Monday is President’s Day!” This particular student is very on the ball when it comes to his holidays.  First it was Martin Luther King Day (“He had a dream, Miss Kat!”) then Valentine’s Day (“Here’s your Valentine’s Day hug, Miss Kat!”) and now President’s Day.  To be honest, I was rather disappointed that he didn’t begin reciting Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address right there on the spot because knowing him, he could have. When I first met this particular student back in September, he introduced himself as “Jerry.” “Nice to meet you, Jerry,” I replied, kneeling down with my “Yes, I’m tall but I’m not scary” smile.  “Do you like to dance?” Before he could reply, his classroom teacher interrupted.  “Jerry? Please!  Tell Miss Kat your real name.” Evidently …