Rebecca – Chapter 3 – Dark Wings of Destiny

Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.

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Rebecca was right next to me. I could feel the energy. I felt really close to her. “The city is so beautiful” she said. She turned to me. “You are” I replied.

And that’s when our lips met. My Lord. I’m too old for this. Wait…no I’m not. I kissed her. Her lips were soft as she yielded to me. She folded into me like an old friend. It was just like I just stepped off stage at the Troubadour in Los Angeles and she loved the song that I had written about her. I was ageless in that moment. Overcome. Beautiful. This can’t be happening but it is. Her lips are sweet and a little sticky. Minty. Human.

Her pupils were so big, it’s like her eyes were black instead of green. Her cheeks flushed and she giggled. I gently brushed her dark hair from her face and behind her ear. She slipped from me and cocked her head. It was as if she were trying to see me in a different way. “Let’s go look at some more stuff” she said, smiling. All I could hear was Midnight Moses playing in my head by the Dead Daisies. 

We continued to wander though the museum. Just going from room to room. I was making her laugh a lot about some things because that’s what I do. I think at this point it was more nerves than game. I was smitten. I’m like a child at this point. I really am. I’m just amazed to be alive at this moment.  But this is the old me. The new, old me. I shouldn’t follow this path.

We went into this one room and the whole room is art in architecture. Glorious big rooms that are incredible and opulent. We are looking around the room and I’m behind her and she just leans back into me, and she is again in my arms. Is it the art? Is it me? It can’t be me. This is nuts, but the euphoria is glorious. I love this. This is my favorite part of everything. The beginning. Ignition. I’ve always been this way, much to the disappointment of the women in my life. But for right now I am living in this moment. None of this makes any sense but I am mainlining this feeling. She turns in my arms and nuzzles her lips and nose to mine. Her eyes are smokey and dark. Lashes flash and she smiles. She looks deeply into my eyes. Rebecca pulls me into her world and kisses me again.

And again…

There was a moment when we were sitting in one of the galleries and she was so excited by a work of art she grabbed my hand. She clasped it tightly in both of her hands as she described her passion for the work.  It was one of my favorites as well. The couple coming home from the carnival. I feel her soft hand clasp mine. She’s holding my hand in her lap. Dopamine drops and I am blind. The work was beautiful. But, I could no longer see it. It was gone. As was I. All I could feel in that moment was the back of my hand against Rebecca’s warm thigh.

I think we were at the PMA for 3 maybe 4 hours. I have no sense of time at this point with Rebecca. If I never hear from her again, I’m okay. This was a special sacred moment that I can wrap myself up in tonight. It’ll be just like waking up from a beautiful dream.

Obviously we did get around to inquiries. Being overwhelmed by beauty and art only lasts so long. I asked he why she is on Tinder. She said that she wanted to meet someone good. Someone that understood her and liked the things she liked. She told me at her age her friends aren’t really friends at all. They are just a bunch of young fools that smoke a bunch of weed and get drunk all of the time. She has ambition and wants to make something of herself. (she did seem really mature while we were texting) She told me she kind of went on Tinder to try. She gave me an example of a conversation she had with a boy her age recently. They were chatting and she asked him what he was looking for and he said he’d like to have some fun. When she asked him to define “fun” he sent her a photo of his genitals. That is some sad textbook shit right there. She explained to me that as an emergency room nurse, she gets her fill of seeing plenty of junk on a regular basis. “I don’t want to see his dick. I saw 5 dicks today and I had to put a catheter in and 85-year-old dick today”

My unblinking response: Okay…..okay…

She said she met another guy. She loved his mind and political views and he was just a really smart guy. She thought maybe her love of his mind and heart would translate into sex but she just wasn’t lit when they kissed. Women know. It’s either on in their minds and bodies or it’s not. Sadly boys, men do not have this ability. She said she went on 4 dates with him and it was done. He was divorced and really into his kids, I think she said they were 16 and 19. He wanted to have her over and they were going to have dinner with the gang, and it all seemed weird because the teens were a little uncomfortable with their 54-year-old father bringing over a girl who was only 4 years older than the 19-year-old son.

Fuck.  I’m jaded as hell and I hate that story. But it really came down to the fact that there was no chemistry. And that’s critical because I have made that kind of lightening strike twice in the same place in the last decade. But what I noticed was she liked him but just wasn’t feeling the intimacy when they kissed. It just wasn’t there. She said she really liked him as a man and tried to keep the friendship going but he realized there was no fire so he withdrew. He has since moved on and even recently married.

So is this chick into older men? I suppose so because she is so bright and mature in her head. She’s got the brain of Emily Dickenson and the body of Vanessa Hudgens.

What am I supposed to do with that?  I never saw any of this coming when I started this blog. I thought I would be just writing about my experiences with women here in Philly over the last 10 years and this curve ball blindsided me.

She told me her dad is a big guy who is from New York and he’s a caricature of a New Yorker. Works for the railroad. Her uncle travels the world and sounds like a cool guy that works and makes enough money and then moves to the Philippines and lives like a king for a year and then does it again somewhere else. That sounds awesome. I don’t have the freedom to do that but if I did you know I’d be there in Thailand risking arrest every year until I die. But I digress…

We wander back to the first floor and are nearing the exit. She validates her parking because apparently she is a member of the museum which I find super cool. We walk out the door and go to the elevator to the parking garage. I didn’t know the PMA had this. It must be new.  I walk her to her car. It’s dusty and blue. We do the perfunctory statement. I like you. I want to see you again. But those words are hollow. I think I may never see her again. This all seems so unreal. I have not felt this in years. Please don’t let this happen again. But I want the drug of love. Not love. Just the drug. I feel like a helpless addict.

She looks up at me under the flourescent lights of the stark concrete shapeless parking garage. Her green eyes flash in the light like pale emeralds. She runs her hands through her thick mane of dark hair. I watch as it tumbles back to her shoulders through her fingers. Her neatly manicured fingernails. The lean muscles in her arms. She smiles. Sort of a sly, half-smile. Like she knows something about me that I haven’t revealed. I think she senses it in my eyes. I smile and try to clear that. But she sees me. It’s unsettling. She places her petite hands together likes she’s praying, and then spreads them and reaches for me. Her hands hit my shoulders and pull me toward her. She kisses me. The kiss is deep and wet. Her tongue swirls. I am lost in this sensous moment.

But just for a moment.

Rebecca: “I like you. The Fringe Festival is happening soon. Can we go to something?”

You all know my answer.

She places her foot against the door and adjusts her shoe. I steal a glance at her well turned leg. She lingers on the laces of her sneaker. It’s taking too long. It’s as if she wants to remind me of what I like. She knows. She’s reading me. Come on. Nobody can do that. Maybe it’s all in my head, but her legs are exquisite and she knows she has touched the beyond.

She drives away and I am back on the street behind the museum. No fish fell from the sky. I order an UBER. He arrives in 8 minutes and I am on my way back to Rittenhouse. I am sitting in the back of the Toyota Avalon and my mind is reeling. I need to hold it together. He’s lost for some reason and I have to guide the driver home. I get out and realize I haven’t eaten in over 8 hours. I stop at my local corner shop and order a slice to go. I get back to the bat cave and text her.

“Home safe. Had a lovely evening with you.”

Crickets.

Panic.

“I was just about to text you the same thing! See you soon! XOXO- Rebecca”

We’ll just have to see how this one plays out. I’m not going to get my hopes up, but if it goes well,  I will be getting airbags installed in the headboard of my bed.

Old habits die hard.

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday at 9am EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly

I publish new Dating content every Monday at 9am EST. I publish Updates and bios and stories about Non-Dating related characters, such as male and female friends, on TuesdaysWednesdays at 9am EST.

Rebecca – Chapter 2 – Dark Wings of Destiny

Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.

In the last episode our hero was preparing for his big date with Rebecca. let’s see how it plays out.

The Date

I jumped into an Uber out front of my house and went to the Philadelphia Museum of Art. The PMA is an amazing part of this city. I have been going there since I was a child. I remember going as a kid with my family. My father always exposed us to the arts. Dad introduced us to art, music, literature and everything else. I should probably do a blog about him at some point, but I’ll cover this stuff for now. I think I could see this blog metamorphosing into who I really am and that idea is unsettling. But somehow, I know that it will. It almost has to change. How long can I write about all of these lovely creatures that come in and out of my life? I know down deep I will run out stories and the real me will come forward. I think that’s when this memoir will become what it truly needs to be.

Anyway I had to say that because I see it, and I know it’s coming for me.

I arrive on time and Santos was a good driver. He brings me to the back of the museum. It’s just easier. I’m not up for doing the Rocky run out front. It’s just too hot today. I think this is the last 90 degree day of the summer here in Philly. I think as a city we’re all tired of the heat. 2013 was a hot summer but people forget. 2013 was “The summer of me” but that will be described in a future blog; Annabel Lee.

One of the beautiful and most elegant things about the PMA is that it never changes. Sure, they have new installations coming in and out all of the time, but you can never change the core of the place. There are just certain pieces that are constant and they fill my heart with wonder, memory and love. The place is simply amazing. If you haven’t gone in a while, please go and feel the magic energy of these wonderful, brilliant artists that make the place what it is. When you walk through the halls of the PMA you can really feel that Homo sapiens are good and make beautiful things, and all of the terrible things we have done as a species melt away after a few hours in there.

I walk in, and like I said it’s pay what you want Wednesdays which based on my last few dates will run me a total of $10. The brilliance continues. Rebecca texts me and says she’s running 15 minutes late which is actually perfect. Normally as you know I hate that. But she’s new and young so I am forgiving. I hit the first floor back balcony and get a glass of wine and wait. I look over the balcony and across the room downstairs. There is a bevy of young women all together sitting on the seats on the other side of the room. Chatting, giggling and looking at their phones.

I’m sipping my Barefoot Chardonnay (basically urine) that cost $9.00, and I get a text. Rebecca has also arrived through the back door of the museum. I tell her I’m upstairs waiting. I see her appear at the top of the stairs, and she fiddles with her phone. I’m going to go ahead right here and tell you she is 30 years younger than me. I know. But I met her on Tinder and this is Phickle Philly and she likes art and is a nurse. Maybe she’s okay. Maybe it’ll be different this time. Maybe I keep doing the same thing over and over with my fatal charm hoping for a different result. But that is madness. Am I mad? She’ll be okay. She won’t be crazy or immature, or 9 months into our relationship tell me that she wants to get married and have kids and I’m too old, and don’t ever want that again. I am what I am and I guess I have followed through with this for a reason. Maybe it will all be okay. ear grips me. I am doing the same thing, over and over again.

Well, she is more than okay. She is exquisite. I have said this before but I literally sucked my breath in when she appeared. Out of all of the photos I’ve posted here to illustrate what these women look like, the one here is really close to what this delightful girl looks like. I kid you not, dear readers. How is this happening again? What am I doing here? How many times have I said this to myself?

Her hair is dark brown. Her eyes are green. Her skin is a light caramel. Her lips are like ripe cherries. She is wearing a red and white cotton top, nothing fancy, with a pair of cutoff jean shorts. Her legs are supple, tan pillars of lean muscle and sinew. She’s wearing white keds. It doesn’t matter, she’s perfect.

My God. She’s beautiful. Is she going to look upon me and run? Will she apologize and say there has been some sort of cosmic mistake? Will I hand her $300 to ” help with school?” Will security come and just throw me off the balcony to finally finish me off on the cold marble floor below me so that I know that this is a dream?

None of that happened. I could see she was texting me so I texted her ” I’m here on the balcony. Come hither”  She looks at her phone and then glances the room. She sees me and smiles. Kill me now. She bounds toward me and I stand. She goes up on her tip toes and hugs me tightly. “I’ve really been looking forward to meeting you!” she exclaims. I can smell her hair. Soft fleece brushes against my face like ribbons of chocolate. The fragrance is soft cocoa. In that moment in her arms, it’s as if she has just revealed a secret to me. She clutches me tightly and then slips away.

She looks me straight in the eyes, and says: “Let’s go share some art!” I swallow the last mouthful of my shitty wine and toss the cup in the trash. I’m locked and loaded. (not really loaded) She asked if I had a map, and I told her that I did. She said “Keep it if you want but I’d rather you toss it in the trash and we just wander together.”

Am I dreaming? Is she going to invoice me for $300 to hang with this lovely doll? But none of that happened either. We simply went downstairs and wandered through the halls. The great thing was that we both had pieces of art we loved and stories behind them. I forgot how connected I was to the PMA. Not as a resident of the city but in my heart.

We came upon a painting called the Moorish Priest. Google it. It’s beautiful and powerful. She stopped and I told her that it was my late Mother’s favorite painting in the whole museum. She loved it so much that my father bought her a framed print of it and it hung in our shore house at the top of the stairs for 30 years. She seemed moved by its beauty and the story. I asked her what her thoughts were and she said; “As a nurse I can see he has a good vein in his hand and in his forearm and I could get an IV in that no problem.” Well she is an emergency room nurse and that’s a legit answer for someone who is always looking for a vein to save a life. The family connection and the irony struck me as funny and nostalgic.

We wandered around for a while rediscovering so many works we both loved. We agreed on so many, for all of the same reasons!  We were on the second floor and there is a huge window that looks down the Ben Franklin Parkway right to City Hall. I told her I remember coming to this very spot as a child and taking a photo of the city through this window with my little plastic Kodak Instamatic camera that I had won in a contest at a shoe store. We looked out at our city. The skyline. It was dusk. The last time I was here was years ago with a group of co-workers on a Friday night during a lightning storm. It was Art After Five on a Friday and we were all plowed on cheap poorly made cocktails. Rebecca was right next to me. I could feel the energy. I felt really close to her. “The city is so beautiful” she said. She turned to me. “You are” I replied.

Tune in tomorrow to see the thrilling conclusion to this story!

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday at 9am EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly

I publish new Dating content every Monday at 9am EST. I publish Updates and bios and stories about Non-Dating related characters, such as male and female friends, on TuesdaysWednesdays at 9am EST.

Rebecca – Chapter 1 – Dark Wings of Destiny

Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.

Here is still another Tinder date. It’s like I’ve been on a Tinder bender! What if we call that a “Binder” from now on? Do you think that could catch on? I can’t take credit for that SNL winning catch phrase. That honor goes to my ex-girlfriend, Michelle. She wrote that bit. It’s really good. There are girls that say they are funny and there are girls that are funny. Michelle doesn’t have time for bullshit so she sees the truth and the irony in the same minute. P.S.Don’t Bother. Her saga will begin at the end of October.

Out of all of the posts I’ve written, this one is by far my favorite.

So I’ve been swiping right a lot lately. I look at this way, if I say yes to everyone it improves my odds of making more contacts. It’s like sales, if you just call on the clients who have stuff you like,you won’t close as many deals. But if you call on as many clients as possible, your close rate will rise. Sure I get some women whose profiles scream swipe left, but I just never reach out to them when it comes up a match. I hope I never hear from them but if I do I simply ignore them. Fickle bastard that I am.

So Rebecca came up as a match. She’s much younger than I am so I immediately think she’s looking for a sugar daddy. There are several girls looking for that on Tinder. It’s really just a nice was to say prostitute. So my guard is up and I’m ready for the inevitable. So if I’m even the slightest bit interested in a woman I will simply say hello and wait. She got back to me in under an hour.

I always ask the same question. “What prompted you to swipe right on my profile?” Her response was, “I like gentlemen, I’m an aspiring artist, writer and musician, and I love exploring Philadelphia.” Normally that sounds like the perfect girl for me. But I’m still prepared for the red flags that could unfurl at any moment. I tell her about myself and ask her another one of my classic questions: “What do you like to do in your free time?” If the answer is shopping, sleeping, or getting drunk with her friends, she’s probably a crazy loser, or simply a young person. But she says: “I like to go to the museums here. I enjoy the theatre. I draw and sing, mostly opera. I’m also in grad school at UPenn.” She says the Barnes is amazing. Agreed. Who doesn’t want to see a billion dollar art collection all procured by one guy? That place once won me the interest of my last girlfriend. Took her there on our first date. I’ll write extensively about her in a future post.

So I ask her if she’d like to tour a museum with me sometime.

She responds: “Gladly!”

The next thing I wrote was my cell number. Within a few minutes she text me: “Hi, it’s Rebecca.” So I’m thinking maybe this is where she solicits me to be her sugar daddy. I asked her what her schedule is like and she responds that it is a bit of a disaster. I’m like, here we go. She said she was on her way back to New Jersey to go to her nursing job that she works on Saturdays and Sundays. She works as a nurse in an emergency room. Impressive.

We hammer out our schedules and settle on Wednesday 9/14 at 4:30 at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. I think Wednesdays are still ‘Pay as you wish’ so that’s a good thing. I asked if I should just text her that day to confirm and she said yes but wanted to still talk between now and then. I loved that. She also said she wanted to hear more about me and wanted to know about my writing. I told her about what I’ve written in the past and how I currently write a blog. But of course I didn’t tell her what the blog was about. So we chatted back and forth over the next few days. I basically hear from her everyday. It’s refreshing and I like the attention because it’s not overkill. So she gave me her email and I sent her a copy of a screenplay I wrote a few years ago. Well… a lot of years ago!

Even over the weekend she was texting me about her shifts at the hospital and how she had begun reading it. Now that I’m reading her texts on my phone it looks like she has texted me everyday since we connected. She even said that it was so nice to meet a man who appreciates a lady of culture. I told her she is a ‘rare flower’ these days, just to sink the hook.

So we’ve been chatting all the way up to today when she texted me this morning with “Hey! See you tonight!” So it’s on people. I pray that she isn’t crazy or a hooker, but this seems too smooth. If she is nuts or eccentric I’ll be disappointed. All this contact and chatter I hope she is what I hope her to be. But if this blog suddenly stops, please call the authorities because maybe I’ve been murdered and I’m floating face down in the Schuylkill like a kid home from college on Thanksgiving in Manayunk.

I’m going to go hop in the shower and get into character. I’ll finish this after tonight’s date.

Tune in tomorrow for Part II of this exciting trilogy.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday at 9am EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly

I publish new Dating content every Monday at 9am EST. I publish Updates and bios and stories about Non-Dating related characters, such as male and female friends, on TuesdaysWednesdays at 9am EST.

Katsumi – Church Mess

Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.

I also met this lovely lady on Tinder. She’s age appropriate and seems nice. We chatted online and then exchanged numbers and made a date last night after my 2nd date with Valerie. (Forgive me, but the blog is called PhicklePhilly. It’s what I do.)

Her profile reads:

Recently separated after a long marriage. Looking for a nice, kind, compassionate, loving, forgiving (I am working on this), humble and positive man. I like to jog, hike, walk, bike and other outdoor activities. I also enjoy cooking, movies, restaurants, traveling, etc. I love to try new things…

Oh I got some new things for you to try…

That’s a tall order to follow for any man. But if there is one man who is up to the job, it’s me. Or, at least I’m up to sending my very best representative out on a date with her this Saturday.  I asked her to have brunch with me on Saturday and she said yes! I asked her what was a good timeframe for her, and she said whatever time works for me. Good answer. I also asked her to come to Philly from Jersey. She said she will comply. So this could be good. Or bad. Either way I’m looking forward to meeting her.  So I may write about this after our date this Saturday.

The Date

So I have had a very interesting week. I should almost blog everyday just to cover it all. I almost want to make Phicklephlly an encompassing blog about all aspects of my life instead of a blog about a bunch of girls I meet. For now I’ll stay here. But I assure you, like anything else humans do, we evolve. This blog will evolve just as I have over this lifetime. So be prepared for that. How many women can I write about? And why? I looked at my list the other night. Everyone I’ve met in the last fifteen years. Not everybody is worth the list. this wont be greatest hits or anything like that but I won’t waste your time with boring characters

I got a text from Katsumi friday night. It was around 10pm. She asked if we were still meeting up Saturday. I had neglected to send the calendar invite. I like that she was attentive. I responded that I was just thinking of her and was in the process of sending. i picked Square 1682 and sent. She immediately accepted. Well done Katsumi. The jury is still out. We chat a bit on text but it looks like it’s going down.

I woke up this morning and went back to sleep. That is something I’d love to hear from everyone I know who works hard every week. I knew one thing. I had a brunch date with Katsumi at 2pm at Square 1682. Saturday, September 10.

Square 1682 is my go to bar in the city. Hands down. For the most part the entire machine works for me and my friends. So Katsumi and I have a brunch date and I lock down on Square. I looked at the brunch menu and saw one thing. Fried Chicken and biscuits. I’m in. They know me. I have to do it because I want that.

I visited a friend of mine at her work and caught up. Her office is a block away from square so I was close. She wished me well and I headed to Square. I arrived at 1:50.  My father taught me well about punctuality. I just realized my fathers obsession with the clock was his own OCD and insecurity about every thing. I guess I’ll deal with that in a later blog.

I’m there and instead of taking a seat at the bar like I always do I get a table. ar first I sat at a table by the window but I was crushed by the sunlight so I moved.

So I’m at my table and I order the bubbly rose just to get a base coat on to meet the lady. 2:10. She is late. 2:20 she says she is on 17th street. 2:30 and a glass of porsecco in and she is trying to park. She says Delancey and I’m like WTF but I’m assuming now that she parked her car or van at 17th and pine. So she’s still 4 blocks away. I am going to resist making any racist stereotypical remarks here.

Now as I said before, I’m a stickler for the clock. It’s now almost 2:50 and I am pissed and red flagging this woman like there is no tomorrow. Other than her getting stuck in a traffic jam caused by a presidential motorcade, there is no excuse for being this late. I was angry, disappointed. I hate this!

And then she walked in.

Asian. Raven hair. Fair skin. Pretty face. Petite. And most of all…great legs.

All is forgiven and well worth the wait. She looks 10 years younger than her actual age. She was wearing a light summer top, red shorts and high heels. She’s looks to be around 90 to 100 pounds tops. She apologized profusely for being so late. Complaining about all the traffic and difficulty finding parking. I didn’t even care at that point. She’s a beauty and I want her.

So I order a cider. Square 1682 has this great cider. It comes in a 12 oz. can. I drink it over rocks. I’m not a huge fan of cider, but I could drink oceans of this stuff. It’s from Franklin Vineyards. It’s dry, 6 % alcohol, 3 mg of carbs, 3 grams of sugar. But it’s not sweet. It is a crisp effervescent delicious beverage for a hot day. If you ever go there, order it.

She sticks to water and orders the calamari. I of course go for the cracking good fried chicken and biscuits. We chat and I begin to learn more about her. She is Chinese and her people came to America by way of Malaysia. She has been married for like 18 years. They are separated and soon to be divorced. But the last few years they have been sleeping in separate bedrooms. Man, I know what that shit’s like. Thank goodness I have been divorced since 2001. Anyway, It seems like her husband is a sociopath and she’s just burned out with all of his nonsense. He seems like manipulative prick. But as you know there are always three sides to every story. Your side, my side and the truth. She still lives in their house but he has left and gotten his own place. The house if free and clear, but he still pays all of the bills. So he can’t be a total asshole. But based on what she’s told me about how he once had a restraining order against her and other stuff, he’s probably somewhat of an asshole. But in Jersey anybody can get a retraining order against anybody.  She has two sons. 16 and 13. Apparently the older one has high-end autism. So he’s really smart but has difficulty expressing himself emotionally and socially. Which must be heartbreaking for a parent. She has him 75% of the time and the 13-year-old 50% of the time. So some how that works out. I know she had them both over the Labor Day weekend before they went back to school. Because we had been texting for a couple of weeks, and this was the weekend she had a free Saturday. Happy she chose me to spend some time with today.

I asked her how her experience has been on Tinder and she said up and down. The first person she ever spoke to on there was 62 years old. They never met but he helped her get through the pain of her separation when it was intense. So I thank you Mr. 62 yr old dude. You cleared the way for me so I don’t have to listen to that shit. She chatted with some Muslim guy for a while but they never met either. So she may have gone on a few dates here and there but she said she went off tinder for awhile so I don’t know. She hasn’t been that active. She said if she sees a guy showing off his car, his house, his muscles or his tattoos, she will always swipe left. So that gives me hope for humanity.

She lives in South Jersey and I appreciated her coming to Philly to see me after only a short time. She said normally she would meet someone for coffee just in case it didn’t go well she could make a quick exit. I told her I usually followed the same line of thinking for a first meeting. Even lunch is good because you can be in and out in an hour. She said she had to do something with her son at 6pm but could hang until after 5. I was happy with that. She asked how many people had I met on Tinder and I told her I spoke with some women but she was the first one I actually wanted to meet. I said that because I am a lying swine and I want her to think she’s in some way special.

She did have an accent but I liked it. She asked if she looked like her photos. I told her she looked better and younger than her pics. She liked that. She said I looked much better than my photos. She also liked that I had shaved off my beard. So that’s a positive. She asked my age and said I looked much younger. So I hope she is getting a good vibe for the Phickle Man. She seemed very interested in connecting with me on Facebook. So we did. She immediately started sniffing around my profile and going through my photos. I mean, I don’t give a shit and I’m not that into social media anymore, but right there in the restaurant? She’s looking at pic of my daughter and pulls up one from Christmas 2008 when Michelle (former girlfriend. Don’t worry. We’ll cover that in the next month or so and it will be epic!) She’s like, “who’s that?” I told her. “You are with a bunch of women.” I told her I know a lot of women and have many women as friends because I connect well emotionally with women and I’m not a wolf. I have nothing to hide on my stupid Facebook. All the secrets are in locked files that only I can see anyway.

I did get her giggling a few times during brunch which I loved .She’s like, “You’re funny.” Chicks like to laugh. That much is true. If you ask any woman what she’s looking for in a man and she’ll probably at some point say: “A good sense of humor.” That is absolute bullshit. They just want a hot guy. Most guys that are hot don’t have to develop at all and get all the ass they want. They don’t need to be funny or smart. They just need to show up. Same goes for hot women. The rest of us have to continue to evolve and grow and develop good personalities and learn sensitivity and kindness and compromise. But I digress…

Even though I’ve already gone on a 2nd date with Valerie and I like her and she is nice, Katsumi is kinda hot. Like when I’m with Valerie I feel calm and safe. I’m with a mature level-headed woman. But with Katsumi, I’m like giddyup!  She gets my motor running. That is the drug I love. I like Valerie and she is probably the better choice, but the heart wants what it wants, and I’m hot for Katsumi. She’s a nice looking lady, so I’m as shallow as the rest of them.

But…here’s the thing that could be the deal breaker with this babe. She said early on that she was very religious. She said Sundays are reserved for church. The whole day??? Based on my experience, religious women are just not a match for me. I am a Godless heathen. My ex-wife is very religious and that did not go well. You would think someone who was that into God would be a little nicer, but then again, all of the wars that started because of religion have killed more people than any of the wars about anything else.  So I just can’t play on that team. But, if Katsumi’s faith and beliefs are important to her, then I will respect her fairy tales. Hell, I’ll even go to church a few times if she will unlawfully lay with me in my bed of sin. (cue up: Heaven & Hell by Black Sabbath)

Anyway, that’s the only snag I see. She said maybe I could come over to Jersey next time. I told her I was down. I could do Zip Car or Patco. Whatever baby wants. I like that she said that there will be a next time.

I walked her to her mini van, (I know!) which was nice, because it gave me a little more time with her and also to check out those shapely gams. So we hugged and I sent her on her way. I told her I liked her and wanted to see her again.

Normally there is a level of euphoria when I meet someone new. But I start to review the entire date in my head and sometimes red flags pop up. Stay tuned we’ll see what happens with this one. If I don’t write about her again you’ll know I lost interest. The whole, “I’m very religious and Sunday is my church day” is really sending a strong message to me that she is not a match for me.

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday, Tuesday & Wednesday at 9am EST.

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Valerie – Love Me Tinder – Date 2

Another tale of one man’s journey through the dating scene in Philadelphia, searching

So here we are after my 2nd date with lovely Valerie. Last night we went out again. This time to the movies. (Her idea!) On our first date she said she would email me with what film she wanted to see. We both love film so I trust her judgement.

I headed down to the Ritz 5 in Society Hill. I stopped into the box office and picked up our tickets around 6:30, and then walked across the street to Positano Coast for a beer before the film. I met her at the theater at 6:50 and we headed in. She didn’t want any snacks and I was fine with that. She sort of picked where we sat and I was fine with that as well.

The film was The Light Between Oceans. It was good. A bit long, 2:13 running time. The cinematography was solid, the score was strong. But here’s the thing… It was a heartbreaking story. If you want to be sad and hurt, by all means go see this film. But I was with her and she was so well-behaved. Well behaved in the movie theater is super important to me. She was on time. Quiet and still during the show. Unlike that mess Carol from last Tuesday’s blog.

So after the movie we just sort of walked around in circles in Society Hill just catching up and chatting. It’s refreshing to be around someone who is a peer. What have I been thinking dating these younger women? It’s nice to have a conversation with someone who has a shared experience of life, career, marriage, divorce, kids, etc.

So it was getting a bit late. And when I say late I mean like, 9:30 on a school night. We stopped into Cavanaugh’s for a nightcap. We went upstairs and she had an Amstel Light and I had the house chardonnay.

I expressed to her that I was working on a new work opportunity and I had a very early Thursday. I wanted to make it very clear I wasn’t trying to bail or leave early. I told her I liked her and I enjoyed spending time with her. She was fine with it and she said she was tired too. She even said “We went to the early show and I’m yawning!” So we got out of there and I walked her to her door. We had a sweet goodnight kiss, and I told her I’d be in touch. I was going to take her to brunch on Saturday, and I told her that, but she is going to her son’s sporting event. I’m glad I told her that I was interested in her and wanted to see her again. So it’ll probably be some sort of food oriented date next.

I enjoy the long arc when it comes to dating. I want to see a woman and spend time with her until it slowly simmers and then comes to a boil in an explosion of lust and pulchritude. It’s just the way I am. The beginning is the best part. The courtship. The thrust and parry of our words and glances. A touch here, a stolen kiss there…and then ignition!

So like last week, this is a bonus blog that just happened last night so I wanted to crack it off as soon as possible to you dear readers. It wasn’t very long but this relationship will probably be a solid, no drama build up.

But in true PhicklePhilly tradition, I have a brunch date with a pretty Asian girl on Saturday, so there may be another bonus blog on Sunday!  Have a great weekend everyone.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday, Tuesday & Wednesday at 9am EST.

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Carol 5/2014 to 8/2016 – There’s No Fun in Dysfunction – Part II

Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.

When we last left out hero, he was hanging out in his office, with Carol. Sh’e about to drop an atomic bomb on him.

So we’re at the office and she has to call her mom and go around and around with her about it for a while and I’m like, “what am I doing here? This is painful.” So I just plow the vodka into me and after a while I’m chill and can deal with her. So eventually she calmed down after talking to her mom. I know there was some talk about her and her mom making some other ring out of something and Carol getting some kind of tattoo. To me…all a waste of time but her, it’s not my family. So at one point out of the blue she says to me the following words:

“Do you think I’m fat?”

Guys… fair warning here. I’m about to tell you what to do in this situation if it ever happens to you. Because this one is a biggie. Great thing is if you are a dog owner or a pet owner of any kind, just remember, your pet will never ask you shit like this. I’m really good at navigating the treacherous waters of the emotions of the fairer sex.

Okay. This is important. Here’s what we know:

You realize there’s no way I can possibly answer this and not have her upset one way or the other. If you think you look fat but don’t look fat, and I say you don’t, you’ll think I’m lying. If you don’t think you look fat but don’t look fat, and I say you don’t, you’ll think I’m just flattering you. If you do think you look fat and you are fat, and I say you don’t, you’ll know I’m lying. If, regardless of circumstances I say you look fat, you’ll be hurt and insulted. It’s nearly an unwinnable game that no man should have the misfortune to ever have to play.

Here are some options:

“Do you think I’m fat?”

  1. Carol you are a beautiful woman and perfect just the way you are.
  2. No! (be adamant)  I think you’re gorgeous.
  3. Here’s a bracelet. (Then run away really fast)

Unfortunately… I did none of the above. Normally I’m deadly with words and deeds and diplomacy when it comes to girls but I don’t know if it was the booze, the exhaustion, or the ringing in my ears from her last tirade, or a lethal combination of all three, but I said the following:

“I suppose we all could be in a little better shape.”

Cut to: Atomic bomb exploding.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have spoken to several of my friends about this incident and everyone agrees that my answer was wrong. Dead wrong. Again, I don’t know why I said it, but it came out. If I could have somehow reached out with my hands and pulled the words back and shoved them into my stupid gaping maw, I would have. But it was too late. Well Carol got very angry and stormed out of my office and left the building in a huff. On my way home I received the following drunken text from her:

“Home… About to exercise and diet and make myself throw up to be thin. I can’t wait to have an eating disorder so I look attractive to you. By the way, I am amazed at your 6 pack and your figure, you are fit amazingly attractive God!!! You are so fit and built. Noooo extra belly fat on you! Night. Hope I lose weight so someone like you finds me attractive… But I can only hope since I’m so fat.”

That is some angry volatile shit right there.

Realizing there were several factors that came together to cause this cataclysmic explosion of rage, I decided to not respond and just let her cool off. Besides, she’s not my girlfriend. Sure I fucked up. I broke the code. It happens. But did I deserve such a wicked verbal attack? Maybe not so much. I just decided to let the cards fall where they would. A week later, I got a big apology text from her. I kind of would have liked it in person, followed by some passionate kissing but in the long run. Apology accepted. So it was business as usual with us. The occasional Saturday bar hop. She had recently secured a job out in Plymouth Meeting at a recruitment firm. Recruitment is a tough job. I know people who do it and it’s tough. They are really hard workers and understand how the employer vs employee dynamic works and locking down the talent. It isn’t much money at first but if you work your ass off and keep at it the rewards can be great, but it is a grind that takes time. Like anything with high reward.

So I knew I’d be seeing less of her and it would be a struggle based on her history to get up at the alarm every morning and drive to work and be on time everyday. Stuff I take for granted that’s easy for me is sometimes really difficult for others. But these are basic functions to stay in step with humanity. get up, go to work and do your job. Repeat. So I hope she makes it.

She had been going to my friend’s tanning salon every Sunday because I had secured a deal there for her. But the deal ran out and she stopped coming. She said she found a cheaper place on her way home from work out in Rockledge or something. No sunburned skin off my nose.  I knew I would hear less and less from her because she was busy with her work and hanging on there and probably sleeping on the weekends because believe you me getting her going before 2pm on the weekends is normally a miracle. Which brings me to the latest incident.

She reached out to me on August 23rd of last week in a text and said:

Carol: “I miss hanging out. Can we hang soon?”

Me: “I’m available Saturday.”

Carol: Ok. We should do a Carol and (My Name) Day. I called you (My Name) which I never do.”

Me: “I’m fine with that. I’ll mark my calendar.”

Carol: “But not too early.”

Me: “Of course. Mid afternoonish is cool.”

Carol: “Ok. Let’s do it. I’ll set a reminder for myself.”

Me: 🙂

Last Saturday arrived and I figured I’d get a text around 3pm and then she may make it out sometime after that. I know it sucks. It’s like the whole day is wasted instead of me and Carol. I went to visit a friend of mine at her work and chatted awhile about it. Earlier in the week some people had done the perfunctory, ” Any plans for this weekend?” and I’d say I’m going to hang with Carol. But Saturday the hands of time went round and round without a word from Carol. My friend who I had been chatting with that day said, “When that happens to me I just assume they are really hung over or dead.” That’s great, I said but I don’t like being stood up. And when I really look at my life I really don’t have time for a handful like Carol. You may start to see a trend as I go forward with this blog, but it will all make sense in the near future why this sort of nonsense happens with these women.

So I went home, fixed myself a vodka and tonic, lit a cig and continued watching the Netflix exclusive series, Stranger Things. (Great show! Check it out.)

I went to Carol’s name in my phone and blocked her.  I need to make sure I only surround myself with people who value me. I have also recently blocked her on Instagram and Facebook. So I’m done with her.

Fucking Crickets!

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday, Tuesday & Wednesday at 9am EST.

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Carol – There’s No Fun in Dysfunction – Part I

Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.

I was introduced to Carol by a friend of mine who works as an event director for a center city restaurant. I was literally sitting at the bar and my friend walks up with Carol, and says “Can you babysit this one for a while and I’ll meet you next door in a little bit.” Carol and I immediately hit it off and were chatting and laughing. We went to Square 1682 for a drink. Carol seemed fun. She has  a nice face, long brown hair she’s probably 5’4″ green eyes and is somewhat voluptuous. Very busty. She recently cut her hair to shoulder length and donated it to make wigs for cancer kids, so that’s a nice gesture.

I liked her well enough. She was bubbly and fun to be around. I did notice that her regular speech was peppered with profanity to the point where I would have to say something. I can trust a person that uses the whole language but too much cursing is just a lazy mind’s way of expressing itself. Something I also noticed that when she would drink she’d become very intense about whatever it was she was talking about. Sometimes it seemed overpowering and I can see how that would drive people away from her. But we had fun that night and I saw a green light so I went in for a kiss but she deflected it. I thought I saw a green light but apparently it was turning from yellow to red!

So after that night I didn’t see her for a while but I ran into her one evening. She was coming from her latest job and was on her way home. She worked at some start-up here in the city. We chatted and decided to have a drink. We get there and she is drinking, and getting excited and loud and as usual a little profane. It was actually painful for me to be sitting there. I was feeling stressed just listening to her. Then she saw someone she knew outside and went out to chat with them. We were in a bar I frequent so I was comfortable sitting there by myself. The bartender even looked at me like; “Dude, I feel your pain.” She got me a whiskey just to soothe my nerves.

Carol had mentioned she was supposed to meet her friend for birthday drinks down at some bar down in midtown village or as some call it the gayborhood. Her friend who was having the birthday is gay so it would stand to reason. I can’t remember the name of the place but it’ll come to me. Carol hadn’t come back from whoever she was talking to outside and I wanted to go see my friend who worked the door over at Ashton Cigar Bar, so I settled up at Square 1682 and text Carol that I had to leave. Frankly I was relieved to get away from her.

So I’m chatting with my friend at Ashton sipping a drink and smoking a cig so I’m calm and happy now. Carol texts me and asks me what I’m doing. I tell her I’m at Ashton. I know I shouldn’t have done that but I had already had a few drinks in me and was feeling fine on a Friday. So she comes to Ashton and gets carded by my friend. As a sidebar here my friend has a good job but was bouncing just as a part-time gig. Anyone you ever met who has worked at a bar knows it’s a tough job. You have to deal with a bunch of drunk and arrogant people some of the time. So when Carol gave him a hard time when he carded her and may have called him an asshole, my buddy wanted to toss her out. But I smoothed things out. But his tolerance for that kind of nonsense is very low.

Carol begged me to go to the birthday thing with her and I was like what the hell by then. So I agreed. I find that the more alcohol I consume the easier it is to deal with her volatility. So we walked over and her friend was there. Surprisingly enough it was a great place. The people were friendly and I was having a good time. I even ran into a guy I had met in my business network there with his friend whom until that moment I didn’t know was gay.  I believe in live and let live, but when you’re in a bar you would never go to and you’re like, “I know that dude.” “Wait… that dude’s gay?”

Anyway we had a good old-time there and later Carol jumped in a taxi and I walked home.

So Carol and I would meet up occasionally. Normally there was drinking involved. We both like vodka so that’s a match. I remember it was Thanksgiving Day of 2015 and we both sort of had nothing going on, so I went to her house and we made road sodas and just walked around the city and ate and drank. The city was quiet because of the holiday and the weather was nice so it was memorable. I remember later telling a friend of mine who had a big family and friends type Thanksgiving, that had been somewhat stressful as most holiday gatherings go. When I described my day with Carol, he said that he thought that was glorious. Road sodas, stop at Misconduct Tavern on Locust for food, Jose Pistola’s for drinks and then one more stop and then home.

And it was good. On another occasion I brought her up to my office and we would drink, listen to music and smoke cigarettes and just chat. So we would get pretty buzzed and I ended up kissing her lips. It was nice, and I was thinking maybe we could have something? I wasn’t that into her and she did make me crazy with her “tire spinning in the snow” like rants about her mother or her boss or her sister or her dog or whatever was working on her mind at that minute. But there was something about her I liked. Maybe we were just filling some void in each others lives at that time. She was then out of work, and needed someone who would listen and not be a slob to her and that was me.

My all time favorite moment with Carol, was one night we were hanging outside of Square 1682 smoking cigarettes. We ran into a guy we both knew. I worked with him, and Carol knew him from college. he called her some creepy nickname when he saw her. So she says, “Hey Alan, whatever happened to that crazy bitch you were dating that cheated on you with your roommate?” Alan goes “I married her.”

Crickets! (But glorious silent elegant crickets.)

One night we were at Aldine having drinks, and that is a nice place in Rittenhouse. Well the owner is behind the bar and of course I’m trying to possibly get a future meeting to discuss maybe advertising her bar/restaurant in the publication where I work. And Carol makes some reference of how she doesn’t want to leave her drink unattended while we go out and smoke because she doesn’t want to get roofied. Carol has a very real fear of that happening. And I get it. I really do. Anyone that would drug a woman and take advantage of them so they can easily rape them, should go to jail. And I don’t mean the local hoosgow. I mean you need to be sent to “pound you in the ass prison” and get passed around like a blow up doll for a long time. (reference: Office Space & American History X) But in this case Carol is saying something to a female business owner who owns a fine restaurant and she is right there behind the bar and we’re the only ones there! It’s a bit insensitive and inappropriate. So when we were downstairs I mentioned that it was a nice place and she shouldn’t say things like that to the owner. Just have her cover your drink with a cocktail napkin or hold it behind the bar. Carol was a bit drunk and adamant about the whole roofie thing. And again… I get it. You’ve read my views on that above. But I told her there are times when she says things and they are inappropriate and poorly timed. She needs to see and understand who her audience is before she opens her mouth. Like, am I going to come out and sing Carpenters songs at a Sturgis biker rally? Hell no. So she was stressing me out and I told her maybe we shouldn’t hang out anymore. Well we talked some more and apologies happened and we were fine.

One of my favorite things that we used to do during the winter and spring of this year was we would meet at an agreed movie theater. The Ritz theaters are my favorite. We would go see some film and I’d get some popcorn and a diet coke and she would break out the liter of wine from her bag. I can’t remember the brand of wine but it was a chardonnay that came in one of those non glass containers. She would break out the cups and would always pour us our drinks. We’d sit in the back of the theater and drink wine and eat popcorn. I even brought her 2 miniatures of vodka as a bonus for her. Great thing is, we have never been caught! It reminds me of a joke I used to do years ago in my stand up act. “I got thrown out of the movie theater the other day. Why? For bringing in my food from outside. We’ve all done that right? Well it had been a long time since I had a barbecue…”

Anyway, we have done the movie thing a few times and it has always been fun. One night she was feeling volatile about some family things and I met her at Happy Rooster for a drink after work. It was like 8:30 on a Friday and I just felt beat. Just exhausted and drained. But I knew after a few drinks I would be back in the groove again. So I’m sitting outside and I’m sweating and tired because it’s been very hot this summer in Philadelphia. I can’t get any service and all I want at that moment is an ice-cold beer and a cigarette. I finally get one and I crush it. Carol shows up late. I forgot to mention this. Carol is ALWAYS late. And you will learn that I am very punctual when it comes to things in life. My father drilled that into me. Maybe it’s the German in us. But to me, being on time is paramount in all situations. My father would say, “It’s not that we agreed on 11′ o clock, it’s that your didn’t honor that promise. So your word means nothing”. Sure he’s hard. But he’s right. He’s trying to make me a better person so I don’t fail people in the future not be home on time for bedtime. Life lessons. My ex-wife was always late for everything and it drove me nuts. But I won’t be writing about her in this blog because this blog is called “PhicklePhilly”, not “NoOneCanGetAlongWithYouPhilly.” Carol is always late for everything. I would have to tell her the movie started at 1:30 when it really began at 2:oopm. That sort of stuff which aggravates the hell out of me. So I’m sitting at Happy Rooster and she shows up and says she has a bottle of vodka in her purse we just need to go get some club soda and we can go drink that for free at my air-conditioned office. That seemed like a great idea. But here’s the thing. She is going on and on about how her grandfather recently passed and her sister and/or her cousin had somehow hooked some rings and stuff from the estate. Carol was super angry. Now I don’t drink coffee because I have natural energy. It’s a blessing. But many times I get my energy from the people around me. It works great for me. But there was so much bad energy coming off her it was killing me. I wished she would just disappear but she did have free vodka so I knew once I had my happy serum I wouldn’t give a crap what she was talking about. And don’t get me wrong dear reader, My Father passed away earlier this year. Carol was flipping about jewelry. Just stuff. I’m not a fan of stuff. I get the whole family heirloom shit. But none of that will bring back your loved ones. they’re never coming back. Just be happy for the fleeting time you had with them and be lucky that your had it at all.

So we’re at the office and she has to call her mom and go around and around with her about it for a while and I’m like, “what am I doing here? This is painful.” So I just plow the vodka into me and after a while I’m chill and can deal with her. So eventually she calmed down after talking to her mom. I know there was some talk about her and her mom making some other ring out of something and Carol getting some kind of tattoo. To me…all a waste of time but her, it’s not my family. So at one point out of the blue she says to me the following words:

“Do you think I’m fat?”

Find out Wednesday what our hero’s response is to that question. The result could be catastrophic.

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday, Tuesday & Wednesday at 9am EST.

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