Month: April 2011

Four Things One Should NOT Do Whilst Single

1) Listen to Train.  Marry Me is going to make me run myself off the road one of these days.  (You should probably stop letting me borrow your car, Mom.) 2) Watch three back-to-back episodes of Wedded to Perfection, followed by Whose Wedding is it Anyway? and finally an entire season of Say ‘Yes’ to the Dress. You know it’s bad when your dad starts to recognize the season’s most memorable bridezillas and can predict which of the fledgling Kleinfeld’s consultants is gonna get the axe (Damn you, Netflix-on-Demand!) 3) Wake up at 4:00am to watch the nuptials of Prince William and Kate Middleton.  Nothing like a fairy-tale wedding to plunge a single girl into the depths of the despair (especially when you’ve got Princess Eugenie waddling around in that awful Vivienne Westwood number.  Now that was just plain depressing.  And Princess Beatrice—that hat!  What was she thinking?  I’ve seen classier reindeer antlers at the dollar store.) 4) Go shopping.  Three evening gowns, two cocktail dresses and one wedding gown later, I am ready for …

A Very Sad Day for Me and Prince William

I’d like to respectfully request a moment of silence this morning.  Why?  Well obviously I’m in mourning. It’s 4:00am here in the US.  I’m still in my PJs, sacked out on the couch in the living room, and although I generally prefer to wallow in ignorance so far as world news is concerned, I am on top of it today.  This is because today is a very important day: today is the day when some innocuous brunette who-is-not-me will marry HRH Prince William and I will finally have to admit to myself that I won’t be joining the Royal Family any time soon. Of course, there’s still Harry.  (One of my supervisors reminded me of this fact via text message yesterday.)  But I don’t really consider Harry a viable option.  As a friend from the UK pointed out a while back, anyone who gets that much media training and still has the audacity to show up at a fancy dress party wearing a Nazi swastika on his arm isn’t exactly the brightest bulb in the …

Man, Type Three: The Surrealist

When you look at a painting by Salvador Dali where he’s got a pocket watch melted over a tree branch or a lion jumping out of a fish jumping out of a pomegranate, you’ve got to just shake your head and wonder “What the hell happened there?  Did I miss something?” This is exactly how I feel after I go out with a Surrealist.  (Yep, I’ve discovered my third “type” and yep, I’m calling this type the Surrealist.)  On one hand I’m all, “Ooh!  Pretty colors!  And how did he get that watch to melt over that branch anyway?  How?”  One the other hand I realize that it’s just an illusion; watches don’t melt, lions don’t spring from pomegranates and if a man seems too good to be true, he probably is. I’ve only gone out with a few Surrealists: Date #5 and My One O’Clock.  (It occurs to me that The Civilian might be something of a Surrealist as well but at this point, it’s too soon to tell.)  When it comes to players—I …

Let the “Man”thropology Continue: The Pre-Raphaelite Lover

Getting back to the notion of “type” (and those pesky Impressionists in particular) I should confess that I’ve been mulling over my “observations” of the male species for a while now.   I kept thinking “Nah, types are boring.  They’re too personal.  Too subjective.  And no one’s going to want to read about the miserable men who make me miserable.”  But I was wrong.  Also, I completely forgot the whole point of anthropology. Granted, I’m paraphrasing a bit here (and bastardizing the entire ethnographic discipline in more ways than one) but anthropology is all about understanding.  The entire point of conducting fieldwork is to gain a better understanding of those you’re researching (single men between the ages of 25 and 38 in my case) and as an anthropologist, it’s incumbent upon you to publish your findings so that others may benefit from your “discoveries.” (The ethics of this can get a bit sticky, however, especially when governmental agencies get involved.  If you’d like to know more about this you can read my totally boring, totally arcane, …

The Craziest Girl on Match.com

Alright folks: here it is.  My new profile.  The one that’s gonna send all the boys… well, to be honest, it will probably send them running in the opposite direction but life’s a gamble, especially when you’re gambling for a GREAT DATE to top all other GREAT DATES on Match.com. And so, without further ado: Let’s cut straight to the chase, shall we?  As a writer (and former relationship columnist), I’ve been on 49 dates since last August.  If you think this is a bit abnormal, you’re right: it is.  I have nothing to say for myself except that I’m quirky: I’m just as happy in hiking boots as I am in high heels.  I did my graduate work in anthropology and I find people (men in particular) endlessly fascinating. So, here’s where you come in.  After 49 dates, I’m feeling a bit jaded.  I’ve been wined and dined and subsequently disappointed in some of Philadelphia’s finest establishments.  It’s not that I’m a snob—I know nothing about wine except that I like Trader Joe’s Two …

Why I Hate Men (It’s not what you think)

First things first: Happy Easter Monday (Easter Monday, in case you don’t know, is an internationally-recognized holiday whereby you run to your nearest convenience store at 6:00am and load up on half-priced Easter candy). Next, I’ve re-written all of my online dating profiles for my 50th Date Challenge (and yes, I’ll be posting my new “boilerplate” later this week).  Last but not least, I’ve spent the past five days thinking about “Impressionists” and I think I’m onto something, but before I get too far ahead of myself, a few thoughts on friendship—by which I mean male friendship. Here’s why I generally avoid befriending men: men tell it like it is.  I know this because last week I received an email from The Salsa Date.  Now that we’re “just friends,” he took the opportunity to inform me that My One O’Clock (aka the Dating Coach) is just stringing me along. I may not understand women, Kat, but I understand men and trust me on this one: he’s not that into you. (That was the gist of …

Easter (and the Eucharist) at The Olive Garden

I was afraid I wouldn’t have anything to write about today—what with having the spent the past week in the middle of nowhere and all—but then I remembered that today is Easter and in the Richter household, Easter means Easter-eve dinner at The Olive Garden- con Los Abuelos. For those of you who remember my grandmother from my day off, a Japanese Christmas and the Flower Show wine tasting, it should come as no surprise that our meal began with a toast to the, er…. Blood of Christ. And no, that’s not lemonade you see there.  That’s my brother having to be all non-conformist and ordering himself a frozen limoncello. Turns out the frozen limoncello was actually pretty good (seeing as it was Easter and all, I convinced my brother to the pass the cup.  I also convinced my grandmother to order as stawberry limoncello martini.) Being the dutiful granddaughter that I am, I made sure to drink most of my grandmother’s martini myself.  (We wouldn’t a repeat of last year’s trip to the Flower …

Date Me, New and Improved

After a week in the Middle of Nowhere (Hooper’s Island, MD), I’m finally returning to civilization.  As I mentioned on Monday, my next date will be my fiftieth.  The way I see it, my big Five-Oh ought to be monumental because I’m tired of these lame Center City rendezvous in which I’m left to pay for my own drink, buy my own dinner (ice cream) and make my own way home, all the while wondering was that a date or did I miss something? To this end, I’ve been re-writing all of my online dating profiles.  (I keep trying to delete my Plenty of Fish account, by the way, because aside from My Three O’Clock, the “fish” are just creepy.  But P of F, evidently, is the Hotel California of dating sites: you can check in any time you like but you can never leave!  If anyone knows the secret to permanently deleting your account, I’d be much obliged.) Earlier this week, one of my readers asked if I’d post my new-improved-profiles for everyone’s “viewing …