I am the Goddess of Philly Dating

Having gotten home from a date worthy of the biting satire of Shmitten Kitten, I have dating on the brain. (For those unfamiliar with the Philly dating blog Shmitten Kitten go there now. It will save thousands in therapy bills.) I am reluctant to blog about dating because potential mates cyberstalk me by reading my vanity blog Planet Caroline. According to Phillygrrl (another fantastic local blog), there are legions of men dying to date bloggers. I am skeptical of that assertion. But Phillygrrl is way hotter than me.

Anyway I digress. 

For One Fine Philly, I want to talk dating from a Philly-centric point of view. After 10 months of dating a number of fine people, I have come to one conclusion. Dating is not a great way to explore the current, exciting, and ridiculously fun aspects of the city. Before you reject my assertion, let me say this. Philly is great for couples, for people who know each and are willing to take chances on sketchy Yelp reviewed restaurants, to view the scatalogical disguised as art, and to engage in athletic activities that make you look like a lumbering water buffalo. 

Take my friend Katchi Tori (name made up so she won't find out I'm talking about her). Her boyfriend is game for just about anything such as yoga (the guy is ruggedly handsome and beefy), taking surfing lessons in Margate or sorting clothing in a cramped storage room for Philly AIDS Thrift. 

I've seen couples enjoying some of crazy fun events I've attended. It's impossible to not encounter a couple living their lives in a way more interesting than the most intrepid single. Willowy, unwashed couples panhandle on Center City sidewalks- all dropping in the city from some alien place like Kansas or Delaware. Couples use their "nation of two" bravado and conquer our city. I salute them.

But that's not me. Typically I go on first and second dates with people I'm not quite sure about. Therefore, we play it safe and go for familiar options with plenty of exits and open windows. Like La Columbe, Tria, Vango- places in the most boring section of town- Rittenhouse. There have been the occasional dancing date, but as I recall they weren't so much fun because I feared getting sweaty and looking foolish when my shirt rides up my back exposing a pallid, moist muffin top. Appealing. 

Now that I write this, I realize I am obviously doing this dating wrong. So, I welcome any advice to have my dating life mirror the adventures that I have when I'm on my own. 

Urban Renewal

Yesterday was a rough day. After a long day of selling shoes, walking around in fabulous but decreasingly comfy heels, I headed out to meet some friends and watch the all-star game. (At The Keep, in NoLibs -- a great little bar with a patio in back!) On the way, I found out that my son has been getting into still more trouble at school; that getting divorced amicably is a challenge no matter how you slice it; and that my martial arts training hasn't completely left me. As I walked down Chestnut Street, a guy walking towards me kept moving in my way. I'd move, he'd move. He was obviously doing it on purpose. So when I was right up close to him, he leaned in with his shoulder as if to knock me down or make me flinch, and I did a rising block with my forearm and shoved him outta my way. Kept walking. Didn't look back.

So on my way home, I was still in a growling mood. In my head, stressing about a job interview, thinking about parenting, and so forth. As I entered Rittenhouse Square on the corner of 18th and Walnut, I noticed some skateboarders sitting on the wall by the entrance. One of them called out to me: Hey! Check this out! I looked, expecting something unsavory ... and what I got was this.

With a goofy grin, the one guy lifted up his skinny-jean-clad leg, and put his ankle behind his head. The other guy, with an equally goofy grin, just nodded, as if to say, "That's right. That's what I'm talking about."

I, who had up until this point had a Don't Mess With Me glare on my face, burst out laughing. It felt so good ... and suddenly I noticed the stars were out. There were lovers kissing on a bench. Someone had plugged Christmas lights in and decorated one of the stone urns in the center of the square. Others had brought plastic chairs with them and were sitting in a group, eating and playing soft guitar music.

I love Philadelphia. And what I realized last night was that the city loves me back.