A Night at The Museum

So in the spirit of trying new ways to meet guys that don’t involve coming up with a clever way to describe myself in 10 words or less, Marie and I headed over to the University of Pennsylvania’s Museum of Archeology for their Valentine’s Day lecture “Cougars, Playas and Baby Mama Drama in the Ancient World.”

Now, as the name of the event would suggest, it was a lecture. A point that was totally lost on both me and Marie until we walked into a dark room, shocked to find a woman standing at a podium giving a PowerPoint presentation. We had decided to stop and get a glass of wine first so we wouldn’t be the first there. Instead, we were practically the last people there. Fortunately, there was still an open cafe table in the back.

We sat down just in time for the start of the “Cougar” section. Sadly, there weren’t many ancient Egyptian cougars for us to learn from. There was an interesting sculpture depicting one woman being serviced by several well endowed men. If I could remember the woman in the statute she would be my new personal hero.

During the player section we learned all about Ptolemy VIII who killed his brother and married his sister, one of the Cleopatras who was married to Ptolemy’s brother until his untimely death. When, Ptolemy got pissed at Cleopatra he killed his nephew/her son, from the first marriage, chopped him up into pieces, wrapped him in a box and gave the gift to her for her birthday. Kinda gives me a new perspective on all those terrible gifts guys have given me over the years.

Still, all of this didn’t give Ptolemy VIII his player status. No, that was solidified when he grew tired of his Cleo and decided to seduce and marry her daughter (his niece) whose name was also Cleo. They were known as Ptolemy, Cleo His Sister and Cleo His Wife. And no, I'm not making this up.

I leaned over and whispered to Marie that when we were allowed to mingle I was going to ask the first eligible bachelor I came across if he thought Ptolemy was a player or did he just crush a lot. If he didn’t get the reference I would know it wasn’t meant to be. Marie agreed there was no future with a guy that didn’t immediately respond with something along the lines of “well, the real problem was that Ptolemy represented Queens but Cleo was raised out in Brooklyn." Thus a new rule was born -- if he doesn’t recognize LL when he hears it, then he's not the one for me.

Finally, the lecture was over and we were invited to get a drink. Marie and I (who had already snuck to the bar just as soon as we arrived) sat at our table to see if there was anyone worthy of our clever pick-up line.

With the lights on we saw that there were approximately eight guys and 100 women at this event. Of the eight guys, two were there together, like on a date, another was with a date with a woman, two weren’t tall enough to talk to, two were old enough to have known the first Ptolemy and then, finally, there was the creepy gentleman wandering around wearing a visor. I’m pretty sure I told you how I feel about guys that wear baseball caps. Well, it goes double, no triple, for visors. Unless you're guarding a beach, you shouldn’t be wearing a visor.