Dating Tales

One of my favorite songs from a few years ago is “Dumbo Sun” by Tracy Bonham. The line: “There was a man in a yellow thong, he was doin’ his yoga and doin’ it wrong” always struck me as funny. It was especially funny because I wondered what in the world would inspire that line.

Well, now I know. Apparently doing yoga in slinky bottoms is not that uncommon.

I don’t know this man’s name, but I’ve come to call him Mr. Little Shorts and all I know about him is that he loves hot yoga and is always front and center in my yoga class. He starts practicing his yoga before class even begins, which only makes everyone giggle. Does he know?

If I happen to get there a little early before the doors to the studio open, Mr. Little Shorts is always outside waiting too. He waits in a t-shirt and his Speedo-type shorts making eyes with all the girls and occasionally mustering the courage to talk to one of us. I’ve learned that if he approaches me I should never let the conversation go longer than a minute or two because at that point he will ask me out for a drink. He’s asked me three separate times.

Maybe I’m not being fair. It’s true that I don’t understand extraordinarily tight britches to begin with. It’s a Mediterranean style choice and by the looks of him he’s very Mediterranean (holy hair ball!), so I shouldn’t judge. But seriously, to wear tight bottoms at yoga with all the bending backward and forward, moving your rear up and down, and spreading your legs apart and so on it’s so uncouth!

I do not dress for men. I dress for women. I’m totally straight and in a great relationship, but totally disregard what my boyfriend has to say about my fashion choices. I am more concerned with what my female co-workers think of my outfit or my girlfriends feel about my new earrings than I do my boyfriend or other men.

Take my bag, for instance. I searched for a cute, short-strapped, every day bag for months. Finally, I found a grey purse at Aldo Accessories in the mall. I was psyched. For around $20 I found exactly what I was looking. I was particularly excited about the leopard print lining.

My boyfriend hates this bag. He thinks that my purse should match my outfit. He doesn’t understand that shades of a color can complement another color. He refuses to look positively at the oblong gray bag with round metal hoops keeping it together. (As if the color weren’t enough for him, the metal hoops rattle and chime in the car whenever I’m in it, ha ha.)

My point of telling you this is that I have gotten more compliments from my friends and random women about this bag than I have on any other piece of clothing or accessory. This only justifies my need to dress for other women.

Just in the last week, the grocery story clerk commented on its cuteness. My neighbor asked me in the elevator where I bought it, and the woman sitting next to me at the nail salon asked to inspect it.

And there’s more. A few weeks ago while on the bus to work, a woman offered me $30 and her bag to trade. At this point I had already received a lot of compliments and so I understood the value of my bag and asked for $80. She agreed, but I only laughed.

There’s no way I’m giving up this bag or listening to my boyfriend’s fashion advice.