Frum N' Flipping

I feel sorry for my husband. Not because the first time he'll see me wearing glasses, with no makeup, it will probably be too late. Not because I'm capable of getting lost in my own neighborhood, and anyone relying on my map reading skills is sure to get led astray. Not even because I'm a secret blogger, and as one commenter put it "won't your husband mind you sharing personal details of your life". (More on the blogging when married topic another time). No, all that he'll be aware of on dates. I began to feel sorry for my future husband, really and truly sympathetic, when I cleaned out the family refrigerator on Erev Shabbos. I filled a garbage bag with rotting vegetables and decaying dairy products. I scooped out chunks of solidified pasta, prepared for dinners long gone, and piled high in the sink their former containers. I used up an entire roll of paper towel, scrubbing weeks of acquired gunk off the shelves. I wouldn't have done it, I wo

I've dated many men, in the last few years. They have some things in common. For a start, they are all single. Also, they are all in their twenties. I also go out with women. Mainly married women. Their ages range through the twenties to sixties. Don't be shocked. Hang on, and I'll explain. I'm in town, meeting up with a pal, one of the rare occasions she's in the hood. I get a phone call. It's my friend's mom, who since her own daughter recently acquired a new last name, has sweetly joined the ranks of those attempting to marry me off. "Someone wants to meet you. She has a guy." "Right. But I don't meet women. Who is he?" 'She won't tell me anything. She wants to meet you first." I entreat and I protest, but eventually I give in. The meeting is set up for the following night. Wednesday evening I get home from work. I choose an outfit which I hope the mystery woman will like or at least approve of, touch up

"In our frum and yeshivish circles it has become acceptable to send 2 to 3 year olds to a mixed pre school, where boys and girls: play together , walk to the park holding hands (Non shomer negiah at such an early age!) , eat at the same tables.. (someone could think it's a shidduch date!) I feel it's inappropriate " Kudos to C.S from Yerushalayim , who wrote to Hamodia raising this important issue. While we are on the topic, I'd like to propose that hospital nurseries should also be separate. I mean there our Kinderlach are doing something much worse than holding hands, they are sleeping together!

Did you know I'm an irreverent dissenter ? I think it's super cool. First time I've been mentioned in the same line as a pervert too. In reply to the concerned comments, here and over at Bad4Shidduchim , I'd like to reassure my devoted fans (well OK then, my happenstance readers who googled "frum + phone + sex" and stumbled upon me instead) . My last post on the work-date dichotomy is not to be taken too seriously. I exxagerated. Poetic license. I do act myself on dates. The question is, what is myself? The work me certainly isn't. I'm not into technology, and put my hands over my ears when my friends mention anything to do with computers ("I'm trying to chill here folks!") I prefer classic understatement and modesty to showing off and self marketing. I'm totally into going with the flow and detest schedules and charts. I resort to intuition over logic. It's only now that I'm learning how to direct people, and get things done