Month: March 2011

Extra Innings (Or: The Conclusion of the Weekend’s Double Header)

  So I’m standing in the middle of the Primate House at the Philadelphia Zoo with my Three O’Clock and he’s just asked me, “So, what number am I?” He’s referring, of course, to my blog, and my spreadsheet and the fact that I’m on my second date in as many hours.  (Actually he doesn’t know that last bit; he’s Googled me, so he knows I’ve become something of a serial dater, but he doesn’t know that I’m currently engaged in the second double header of my serial dating career or that he’s the second man I’ve gone out with since noon.) After some consideration, I take a deep breath and reply (rather casually, if I do say so myself), “25 or so?” I’m casual because we’re only in the Primate House and to be honest, the only thing that makes me laugh more than monkeys is my Three O’Clock’s commentary about the monkeys.  If we were having this conversation in the “Carnivore Kingdom” for example, I might be a bit more worried about my …

My Three O’Clock (The Double Header Continues)

I’m nearly to the front gate of the Philadelphia Zoo when I get a text from my three o’clock: he’s running late. This is not good.  Double headers only work if all of the players stick to the schedule and seeing as I’m trying to squeeze in not one but two dates before heading over to University City for a tap class with my students, there is no room for error. But I decide to play it cool.  He is coming from Wilmington after all (which is an entire state away for all of you international readers) and he’s been considerate enough to tell me he’s late before he’s actually late.  Plus, this gives me time to scope out the gift shop (as a creative movement teacher, I am always looking for new ways to blow my entire paycheck on children’s books). I stroll through the children’s section, then through the clearance section and finally I head back towards the gate to read about the history of “America’s first zoo.” Being a proper Philadelphian, I’ve …

My One O’Clock

My one o’clock has been pissing me off for the past week and a half—and we’ve not even met.  This is because he’s new to Philadelphia and as such, he’s just like me a year ago: no commitments aside from the occasional work meeting, nothing to do on weekends and more free time than a retired train spotter. As such, he’s taken a rather lackadaisical approach to our first meeting—so lackadaisical in fact that I would have given up on him entirely if not for his height (very good), his way with words (equally good) and the fact that he balked at the idea becoming a 9-5er after graduating from college and moved to Europe instead. Having never worked 9-5 (the closest I ever came was 10-6) I have a soft spot for men whose bohemian inclinations match my own. (That said, I also have a soft spot for men who wouldn’t recognize a youth hostel if they stumbled right into a drunken orgy of rumpled backpackers.  Men without bohemian inclinations, you see, dress nicely …

Oops, I Did it Again

Serial dating was a lot easier when I, you know, didn’t have a real job.  That’s not to say that I was unemployed last summer—I was writing and trying to get my act together and still managing to pay my rent despite all of my “I’m finding myself” shenanigans—but I had very few commitments of any sort, professionally or socially. Now that I’m gainfully employed and finally developing something akin to an actual social life here in Philadelphia, it’s getting harder and harder to find time to date. On the eve of my first and last date with the Bovary Reading Bachelor, for example, I snuck off to H&M during a break in the weekend’s dance competition to buy a new dress. “You’re going out on a Monday night?” the studio director asked. “Yeah,” I replied, “I certainly can’t go out on Tuesday!” This is because I teach on Tuesday nights, and on Wednesday nights and on Friday nights. More recently, my editor over at AOL’s City’s Best left me a voicemail during my date …

Why I Need to Stop Doing Yoga

So I know yoga is supposed to be all about cleaning your mind and such but I’ve always believed that physical exertion should be rewarded.  This is why the last time I took a ballet class at Koresh (approximately 2.5 years ago) I headed straight from the ladies room to the Cuban restaurant on Pine St. where I proceeded to recoup any calories I’d previously burned by drinking pomegranate mojitos. (Just in case you’re wondering, when you go from taking ballet four or five days a week to taking ballet four or five times a year, mojitos are a matter of survival.  I remember standing at the barre, attempting yet another round of grand battements and thinking to myself “Why am I doing this?  Right: because I’m going for mojitos afterwards.”  For some people, ballet is enough of a reward in and of itself.  I am not one of those people.) But I digress. A friend of mine is finishing up a teacher training course at a yoga studio in West Philly and she invited …

Photo(s) of the Week: Bribing with Barbie

Because I believe in rewarding my students for good behavior (ie. bribing them to not swing from the studio’s ballet barres) I returned to my favorite bargain basement for a stroll down the toy aisle. The result, in a word, was horrific. I will say this for Mattel: they’ve finally gotten the hang of the whole “diversity” thing… sort of.  (Evidently Brunette Ballerina Barbie, Blond Ballerina Barbie and Black Ballerina Barbie are good enough?) What I don’t understand is why the Ballerina Barbies all have plastic roses stuffed into their decolletage.  Possibly the are the new head-changing Barbies my boss’s daughter proudly displayed to me last week?  (Instead of changing their outfits, you change their heads and their “heads” extend all the way to their bust line.  Something about this makes me shudder.  What happened to the good old days when you just traded one slutty outfit for another?  I think it’s a conspiracy to condition young girls for plastic surgery later in life, but I digress…) Next up, we have Teacher Barbie.  At least …

My Single Male Friend Friday: Meet Carl!

  It’s that time again: My Single Male Friend Friday!  Unlike last week, this week’s post is actually about one of my single male friends although if you’d rather read about my continued misadventures in the world of Match.com, check out my new column over at AOL’s City’s Best: Philadelphia. So, getting down to business: today’s bachelor is a rather new friend named Carl.  Carl’s a senior at Berea College in Kentucky and we met at a retreat for young adult Quakers earlier this year.  (Actually that’s not true.  We first met at a Quaker book reading last summer and I struck up a conversation with him based on my fascination with his shoes.  He likes to wear those weird toe-sock sneaker things and when I saw him again at the retreat a few months ago, I found myself once again striking up a conversation based solely on his footwear.  “Are those things comfortable?” I asked.  He replied in the affirmative and it was only then that I realized we’d already met and I’d already …

Another Scavenger Hunt!

It’s Scavenger Hunt Thursday here at After I Quit My Day Job.  In other words, my newest column will be up later today and I’ve had neither the time nor brain cells to write anything else.  As such, you’ll have to find another source of amusement between now and 4:00pm (sorry!) but perhaps you’ll enjoy one of the lovely blogs listed in my blogroll?  (Or, if you’re new to my online dating shenanigans, you take this time to get caught up on my first and second columns.) At 4:00 (or thereabouts) you can click here for the full scoop on my date with the Norwegian and a rare pre-date photo from Saturday night’s salsa date. Be sure to leave a comment over at AOL’s City’s Best and wish me luck for tonight’s date: there’s a dress code involved!