People (read: my boyfriend) often ask me why I still check my OkCupid account, given that I’ve been in a relationship for three years.  Honestly, it is out of boredom 87% of the time.  My other social networking sites offer little to nothing in the way of consistent interaction with others, but despite my status as “seeing someone” and “unavailable” on OKC, I still get at least one fairly entertaining message in my inbox every day.  A man who calls himself jitlove from scenic Ahmadabad, India contacts me once a week with charming correspondence like “hiiiiiiii (sic),” “hi how r u (sic)” and “hi (sic).”  tony4ny also asks “hi how r u (sic)” on a regular basis, and he likes to follow up with “hi howcome (sic) no news? reply when you get the chance pretty.”  Note that the messages rarely change in content, spelling, punctuation or number of i’s; they know the power of copy and paste.  I don’t mind them sending me things- the beautiful part of internet dating is that rejection never has to occur face to face and can be done silently.  I’ve never felt an urge to reply to anything until a few days ago, when I received not one, not two but THREE emails in one day, including this one:

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Gearing up to the month-long yoga project, I went to class once this week.  Awesome, right?  That’s what I call preparation!  It was particularly crowded at Yoga to the People on Wednesday evening, so much so that they opened up the rarely used 4th floor, which was subsequently packed with ten (10!) people per row.  Normally this type of crowd doesn’t bother me at all.  Though meditation has never been my strong suit, I can usually zone out enough to ignore the sweaty dude(tte) doing sun salutes four to six inches away from me.  Sadly, this was not one of those days so it is my pleasure to introduce a new feature!  That’s right, there are gonna be FEATURES on this blog.  And now, without further ado, I bring you Nincompoop Corner!

 

My spot of choice at this particular free yoga studio is by a wall where I can put my glasses near me without them getting stepped on.  Those, however, are plumb spaces so whenever I see one I jump on it without much notice of who might be next to me.  NYU must have just gotten back from winter break because the place was full of stupidly young-looking kids, like the pimple-faced little scamp next to me.  He was not in track shorts or yoga pants and a tee-shirt like the other guys in the room, but was wearing a baggy pair of jeans and a flannel shirt.  I’ve seen people wear jeans in class before so his attire in and of itself wasn’t THAT weird.  (Actually, the flannel shirt was pretty bizarre.  What kind of kid doesn’t wear a tee-shirt under a flannel?)  It got super strange when, two minutes before beginning child’s pose, he TOOK HIS PANTS OFF and proceeded through the entire class in his TINY BOXER BRIEFS.  This was entirely too shocking for me to hide my reaction, and his response to my double take was something like “huhhh huhhhhh, my shorts are real short, right?”  Yes, child.  Too short and too UNDERPANTS.  The flannel shirt, however, stayed on; his typical college-boy “I’m too lazy to shower” musk that was already pretty strong before we got started got WAY worse as the class wore on.

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