I was at an event at Square 1682 a few years ago. This is before I became a regular there. I was sitting out in this big white obnoxious Humvee limo, being served cocktails. It was hot, uncomfortable, and the service was slow. So after about a half hour I went inside. I simply went to the bar and ordered a drink.
I was chatting with the bartender about some movie trivia, when I felt a pair of eyes on me to my left. I look over and I see this attractive brunette woman. It looks like she is dying to interject in our conversation. I pause and give her a look. She starts quoting some good stuff and making some good observations about the film we’re discussing.
We introduce ourselves and I learn her name is Carly. She is an events director for a large restaurant chain. She also makes marijuana edibles that are apparently incredible. Over the last few years we meet up at least two to three times a month for a drink and idea exchange. She is really an amazing person, but extremely busy in her job because of all of the demands of these large scale events she assembles.
Carly doesn’t live in center city so I only get to see her after work. She is happily married, and has a passion for rescuing dogs. She can be quite the talker, and when I met her husband for the first time I said, “You must be a good listener.”
Carly and I do this bit, where if we’re anywhere and a person walking by even remotely resembles a celebrity, we’ll make a wisecrack about them to each other. We’re not making fun of the person, just making each other laugh. It’s just a thing we do.
One night we were sitting at the bar,and this red-haired stout woman walked by us. I turn to Carly and say, “Wow. Wynonna Judd has really put on some weight.” Carly laughs and we go back to our drinks. About twenty minutes later, I’m looking down the bar at the redhead. The waiter is chatting with her. He comes by me. I stop him. “Kenny. Who is that woman with the red hair down there? I ask. “Oh that’s Wynonna Judd.”
I nearly lost my shit. I grab Carly and tell her. We rush down there. Carly is spouting about how her mother loves her, and some shit about” How Love Will Build a Bridge.” It was an absolutely hilarious, surreal moment. Wynnona is a wonderfully sweet woman you’d probably love to have as a neighbor. Just a great southern belle. Her husband was a sweet guy too.
Carly and I have had some wild times and loads of laughs over the last couple of years. I am proud to introduce her here. Like the title says, she is the coolest chick I know in Philly.
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday at 9am EST.
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 Wednesdays at 9am EST.
It was a Friday night. Michelle and I were scheduled to work a recruitment event at the Lowe’s Hotel. It was sponsored by our recruitment partner Monster.com. We got everything all set up in one of the small banquet rooms off the main bar/restaurant area. Our designated representative from Monster was there. He told us he wasn’t going to stay long, but there was one thing, and only one thing I had to remember. “Don’t forget to take the big Monster banner with you when the event is over.”
As people came in to the event we all split up and began networking. The conversations were flowing just like the booze. As the event wore on people were getting more drunk. I was chatting on one side of the room and Michelle was on the other. I was talking to this girl, who ended up giving me her phone number. I can’t for the life of me even remember why. She was cute but pretty banged up from drinking. You know how it is. It’s a recruitment event. A lot of young people looking for jobs or seeking better jobs come to these kinds of events. They come in, drop off their resumes, drink their faces off for free, and then leave.
Michelle and I worked that event for probably 3 or 4 hours. We were drinking the whole time. I think mostly just pounding wine. But we worked in advertising, so for the most part, we could handle ourselves. Once the last person was gone and it was just the two of us left, it was time to clean up. I remember Michelle went out for a cigarette. I didn’t smoke back then. I had been tobacco free for 10 years. I sat with her outside the exit still sipping my wine from a plastic cup.
We went back in and started dismantling the signage. I’ll never forget what happened next. We had the huge banner on the floor and were rolling it up. She was rolling it up from one end and me at the other. As she rolled it closer to me she went right in for the kiss. Right on the lips. It was beautiful. I was in love. Smitten!
The heart isn’t really capable of holding onto large-scale events. But little moments like that mark you deeply and can sustain themselves for a lifetime.
Michelle told me that there was some sort of after party at the Field House. It’s a big sports bar over by Reading Terminal. So we head over and I’m carrying the huge rolled up banner around with me. The party is upstairs. I remember two things. This one guy, that whenever I would step away from Michelle for any reason, be it to get a drink or go to the restroom, he would magically appear. I remember seeing him do this again and again. He would just be standing next to Michelle wide-eyed and smiling as he stared at her with obvious admiration. It was kind of funny. The other thing I remember was this little gay dude. He wasn’t a little person, but he was really short. There was this one point where he and Michelle did what what they call “a walk off.” I think it’s a term they use in the modeling community. Michelle being a former print and runway model, she knew how to do it. It was funny to watch this 5’11 tall blonde locking arms with this little dapper dude and do a walk off. I think they did a few of them. It was just a funny sight that I remember.
By this time, I was too drunk to drive home. For whatever reason, we couldn’t go back to her place to crash. I would have been fine sleeping on her couch. Maybe her bitch face roommate was there entertaining or something. I still have the huge banner with me. (See, you thought I left it at the Field House, didn’t you?) I don’t remember whose grand idea it was to go to the Hotel Sofitel at 17th and Sansom Streets. We didn’t even go to the Liberte bar for a drink. I just went up to the front desk and ordered a room. We got up to the room and went straight to sleep. I don’t even remember what time it was or anything. But nothing happened between us. We just crashed.
The next thing I know it’s morning and I hear this little rustling of paper at the door. I open my eyes and look over. There is a sheet of white paper on the floor. I slip out of bed and go pick it up. I turn it over. It’s the bill.
$300 for one night! $300 and I didn’t even get laid. Maybe it’s not too late! She’s still asleep. When she wakes up maybe she’ll want to… What am I thinking? The only time ANYTHING happens between us that even resembles affection or romance is when she’s impaired. She’s trying to get back with Delaware Dave and when she gets drunk she acts out with me. She always regrets it. I know she has feelings for me but she’s conflicted. Funny how this will rear its ugly head down the road on several occasions. When she awakens she’ll be really hung over and then she’ll have to leave. Who am I kidding? We’re not going to hang out. I’ll just go back to my little apartment in Jersey.
We get ourselves together and I show her the bill. She’s horrified. She vows that’s she’s going to give me half. She’s hung over and so am I. We leave the hotel which all seems like a blur now. We walked up to this little deli at 16th and Arch. She wanted to get some food. Something healthy. I wasn’t in any mood for food. I’m still carrying around the giant banner. Maybe I had folded it in half by then, but it was still ridiculous. Like an eight foot vinyl scarf.
Michelle tells me she has to drive down to Delaware to see Dave. Apparently they’re supposed to hang out with some friends of his from Hawaii. I remember the day was overcast like my mood. We part ways and I walk back to the parking garage with my banner. I toss it in the back of my station wagon. I make my way back to Jersey. I’m frustrated with how things are going. It doesn’t seem right. She hangs out with me here in Philly, but her heart is in Delaware. She’s known this guy since they were 15. She’s 27now. When you’ve known someone that long they’re like family.
I take it easy the rest of the day. I reflect on where this whole thing is going with Michelle. I was cleaning some things out of my wallet, when I come across the name and phone number of the girl from last night’s event. I text her on my flip phone. (You read that right. It’s 2008.) She texts me back and we decide to meet up on Sunday. Like the song says; “if you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with.”
I don’t even remember her name. We’ll just call her Sue for this story. We meet up on Sunday around 1pm at the Continental Midtown. We’re at the mezzanine bar upstairs. She’s young and attractive. She tells me she was out late the night before with her friends and still felt a little banged up. We order some cocktails and let the conversation flow. We get a decent afternoon buzz on and go out to explore.
We ended up the Bellevue Hyatt. That’s where Nineteen is located. But we didn’t go into Nineteen. We ended up watching a trunk fashion show on the same floor. It felt like something I’d much rather being doing with Michelle, but like I said, Sue was present. She was a little sassy and had some attitude, but I really didn’t mind. This was a decent band-aid on my heart for the day. After the show she grabbed me and started making out with me on the elevator ride down. It was good, and I had felt the energy earlier in the day, but she said she waited because she didn’t believe in PDA. (Public displays of affection). For some reason we went to Lucky Strikes. I don’t even know why. It’s a bar and bowling alley. I had only been there once before for a corporate bowling party. We ordered pizza and fries and washed them down with a few beers. We didn’t even bowl and had no intention of doing so.
After a while she tells me that she has to go home and let her dog out. I walk her home and I decide that I don’t really like this girl. She just seems like a vacuous idiot. We say our goodbyes and I tell her I’m going to give her a call.
I’m walking back to the parking garage and I check my phone. I hadn’t looked at it all day. People didn’t do that back then. No smart phones back then. There is a voicemail from Michelle. I listen to it. She says that she read the screenplay treatment I gave her. She liked it and said she looked forward to seeing me on Monday at the office.
That was the highlight of my weekend.
A couple of days later at work, Michelle returned a music CD to me that I had lent her. I think it was a record by Julie Cruise. I opened it later and inside the jewel case was a check in the amount of $150.Her half for the room.
I never cashed it.
Michelle always said: “I have so much fun with you that when the day is over, I wish we could do it all over again.”
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I met June in October. Texted a bit. Talked to her on the phone for 4 hours while we were both drunk. Met up for drinks a day later. Had some laughs. Met up with her again when I took her to the Midtown Fall Festival.
But here is the thing. I would drink and smoke with this lady at McGlinchey’s but not much else. I’m just not a fan. I know I’m going to sound vacuous and shallow, but I’m just not attracted to her. It’s not working. The face isn’t doing it for me and neither is the rest of her. The stocky body and man hands from rustling horses? Just, no.
I can’t. She’s kind of like a moped. Sure they’re lots of fun to ride. But you don’t want your friends to see you on that thing. But no hard feelings on this one. She’s even been in touch with me a little in text. Wanting me to get a drink, hang out, but I just wasn’t into it. It’s either hell yea, or hell no.
And the verdict on June, is hell no.
If you read my last update on Valerie, (Love me Tinder) you’ll sort of know where I am with these middle aged women. I tried, but I’m just not into dating these two. But here’s the thing. Maybe I just haven’t been dating the right women my age. I’m going to keep trying. What I do enjoy about women my age is, we have a similar worldview and share a social and developmental timeline. That’s a good thing. I just need to find the right girl. I don’t care how old she is.
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday at 9am EST.
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 Wednesdays at 9am EST.
Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.
I recently went down my list of all of the people I have ever chatted with on Tinder. I may not have spoken to them in a while. I just wanted to touch everyone to simply say, “hello” but mostly to keep feeding this blog with new material. Life once fed the art, but now that I’m meeting so many women, the art is now feeding life. When I started this blog I made a list of over 20 women I had met over the last 10 years and decided they should be a part of this tome. I thought I’d simply write about them all, and maybe a couple other people as they entered my life during the time it took me to cover them all. But I’ve been meeting so many people I can’t keep up with them all! As a writer it’s become a wonderful problem to have.
Like the days when I was in a band or even before that when I was into drawing, I only made art for myself. The pictures I drew were of things I loved and the songs I wrote and our band played were for us. This blog is about my expression. I haven’t written anything in years. (Unless copy for award-winning advertising campaigns counts!) I am happy to say I am writing again. The best compliment you can pay someone is to copy them or try to be like them. I am putting words and stories where there were none before. I feel closest to my creator when I create.
One of the women I said hello to that responded was Scarlett. So we start chatting and she responds with: “Hey! Sorry, I’m rarely on here. Just saw your text.” But then I get a regular text from her on my phone, not Tinder. I’m confused, but who knows? Maybe alcohol was involved. I don’t remember talking to her or exchanging phone numbers. She asked how I’ve been and how we had a whole conversation. She starts going into this story about how we talked when she had just moved back to the US from the Dominican Republic. She says she is currently living in University City. I tell her my neighborhood and she says she spends a lot of time down there. I ask her to meet me for a drink. I also provide her with days I’m available. Then she drops this bomb:
Scarlett: “Why should I give you a shot after all this time that has passed?
Me: “That is a choice only you can make.” (I just thought I swiped, she swiped and nothing happened)
Scarlett: “Well of course. But are you planning on making up for lost time?”
Me: “What? What lost time? We’ve never met!”
Scarlett: “Because you stood me up.”
Me: “That is simply not true.” (I’m thinking she’s crazy at this point)
I send her a screenshot of our last conversation on Tinder. I told her that was our last conversation on Tinder, then I never heard from her again. Then we spoke again today.
She then sent me a screenshot of our last conversation, but it was from October 2014. Two years ago! It was me texting her and telling her I had to go meet with a client so I couldn’t have lunch with her that day. I remember now I just didn’t feel like it, so I bailed.
So I obviously apologized. But I did explain to her I technically didn’t stand her up, I cancelled. She said I did it last-minute, but whatever, I don’t remember. But she accepted my apology and decided to give me another chance. But it’s been two years! She said it seemed odd because I was such a gent. So we decided to meet for drinks on Monday.
Stop back in 2 weeks to see what happens on our date.
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday at 9am EST.
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 Wednesdays at 9am EST.
Part of the Wednesday series will be called “Sun Stories.” That’s any interesting things that happen at the tanning salon.
Here is another friend of mine, that I wanted to introduce to this story. So when I’m writing about my adventures and they are involved in the process or the dialogue, You’ll know who they are.
Achilles was a client of mine. I reached out to many clients that were in the system where I formerly worked selling advertising. He was one of the ones who got back to me. I went to see him at the time. He owns a tanning salon/spa and it was his slow season. Late Summer to early Fall. He hadn’t advertised with us before and I convinced him to give us a try. He gave me some ad artwork, and we went over frequency and budget. We ran the ads for about 12 weeks, but after a while we felt it wasn’t working.
He was ready to not renew the contract with me, but I came up with another idea. I came up with some really good ideas for ads to promote the salon. Instead of the standard coupon type ad, I created some really catchy copy with some great images, to capture the spirit of the place. So he decide to give me one more chance and ran for another 3 months.
During that time I would go into the salon on a weekly basis and chat with him about the copy and some ideas. We also became friends. He would tell me all about his challenges with his younger girlfriend. Achilles is a low-key, simple man. When I say simple, I don’t mean simple-minded. He is incredibly smart and talented in many ways. He just wants to live a simple and uncluttered life.
Born to Greek immigrants, he came to America when he was 6 years old. None of the had much and none of them even spoke English. But if you know anyone who is Greek, they are a great proud people. The Greeks had built their own civilization when many of us were still swinging from trees. They work in restaurants, stick together as a family, save their money, and then open their own businesses. Achilles was running around the city at age 10 delivering pizzas. He’s worked his entire life.
But he’s so much more than that. He can fix anything. Build anything. He’s got a head for mathematics and design. He’s good at running a business and making money. He can build structures, like housing. He can fix your car. He can take apart most mechanical appliances and repair them. His motto is, “Why should I pay someone to do it, if I can do it myself.”
Oh and did I mention he’s in great shape. At 47 he is muscular and really fit. 5’10 180 lbs pure muscle. He owns his own business. Has a beautiful house. A few nice cars, money in the bank, and a motorcycle. It seems like the perfect package. (It also almost seems like Phicklephilly is taking a turn with the other team here doesn’t it?)
So I would go into the salon every week, and Achilles would always be either complaining about his hot young girlfriend or his staff. His girlfriend of 8 years is always creating arguments and fights out of nowhere. We have discussed this several times and we don’t know why she does it. She just does. He even came so close once to asking her to marry him, and he pulled back and didn’t because of her nonsense. If she could just be cool and just enjoy the calm life she has with him, he’d probably take a chance with her. But only time will tell.
One day for like the fourth time he’s complaining about his staff. This one doesn’t clean the place right. That one calls out because she has anxiety. This one is hung over. Weekend guy’s mom is dying again. I tell him maybe he should hire people who are a little more mature and a bit more reliable. I say this as the 10th beautiful, tan young thing walks by me in the lobby. I tell him that I like to work, and would love to work there as a part-time job at night. So after us building a business relationship for over 9 months his response was: “You’re hired.”
I started working 2 nights a week, and then I occasionally got the weekend schedule. When some people left and the schedule shook out I had most of the shifts. I worked Monday through Friday at the advertising job from 8:15 to 4:45, and worked every evening from 5 to 8 at the salon. Sunday I worked 11-4pm. My only day off was Saturdays. I was working 70 hours a week and loving it. I actually really love working at the salon. The clients are nice and it’s a fun and easy job. I’m a good sales guy, so he actually pays me commission for selling accessories.
I’ll probably stay in advertising as long as possible even though it’s a grinding thankless job. But Achilles and I are looking to open a gym or a spin bike studio somewhere in the city. If that happens we’ll be business partners. So stay tuned!
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The company is going to move the entire online department to a high-rise in center city. It was all new, beautiful and modern. About a week before we were to move there I was in my apartment in Jersey and I got a call from my boss, Herbert. He said he had been fired. He was crying on the phone. There is no crying at work. That’s what your apartment is for. When he told me, I knew he was probably the most sad because he wouldn’t be able to see Michelle anymore.
They brought in this 6’7″ goon from somewhere to replace him. We’ll call him the Russian. At first he seemed really cool, but they all do in the beginning. This is important. If you ever get hired by one guy, and then they bring in another guy to replace him it’s never the same. He never has the same investment in any of you because he didn’t choose you. He simply inherited you. So watch out. When they seem cool and fun in the beginning they usually turn out to be insecure weak middle management types that won’t last. But right up to the moment they leave they will make your life a living hell. Believe me. I’ve seen this over and over again in my career. But the only thing you have going for you is that he doesn’t know you. So if you endear him early on, life can be sustainable for at least 6 months before it all turns to rage and grinding resentment.
The Russian trusted me and knew I had talent as a sales guy, so he asked that I take Michelle out on some four-legged calls to help acclimate her to selling advertising. I was way more than happy to do so. We would go out on calls around the city. One day we ended up at Nineteen at the Bellevue. It’s this cool bar/restaurant at the top of the Bellvue Stratford. My dad used to hang there in the 70’s. How could I go wrong? Follow in dad’s footsteps. You can sit out on these little balconies. I didn’t even know it existed, but she did. She knew many cool spots around the city back then. I was happy to spend time with this beauty, and happy to learn more about the city. We ended up sitting out on one of those balconies looking over the city and sipping martinis.
This was so much better than scuttling down the hallway after her to the billing department like when I was first hired.
One time we were out on calls at the King of Prussia Mall, I wanted to pick up cologne and she wanted to get some perfume. But when they ran our cards we were both were declined for lack of funds. We were poor back then. Maybe we just spent too much money. I think I had my paycheck on me, and I ended up going to a check cashing place so we could go drink after work. I did that and it worked.
Michelle’s desk was near mine so we could always converse and see each other during work. We started leaving at the same time. I would walk her home. We would stop at the Whole Foods out in Fairmount and get some food. I would order salmon and broccoli rabe. I wanted to eat healthier so that I would lose weight. (I was heavier back then) I also wanted to show her I was trying to eat healthier. I don’t know why, I would get the food and heat it up in a microwave they had there. The salmon was okay, but I fucking hated eating that broccoli rabe. It was just chewy grossness. But I was happy just to spend time with Michelle.
Sometimes on a Friday, we’d stop and have drinks somewhere. Maybe at Tir na Nog. We would sit outside along the sidewalk on 16th street. The thing was, that was the route for many of our co-workers. They would walk back to the old building to the parking garage. So they’d walk by, and say hello, but I think they started to suspect that maybe there was something between us. I didn’t give a shit. We were just in the moment, drinking and having great conversations.
Sometimes we’d have lunch with the team, and other times just the two of us. There were times we’d have opportunities to go to things, and we’d stop somewhere for a drink and just end up blowing off the event entirely. Like networking events or even Philllies games. We didn’t care. We just liked being together and feeling the city.
I had even told her about a screenplay I was working on and sent her the first few scenes to read. I had based the female lead on her. Maybe she was to be my new muse. I just figured she’d never read it, but I emailed it to her anyway. I wanted to impress her that I was a sensitive artist. I wanted to let her know I was different than all of the ilk that just wanted to sleep with her. I really liked her as a person.
I started walking her home more and more after work. We’d stop at some cool spots, have a few drinks and then head back to Fairmount. Like I said, we’d stop and get something to eat and then I’d head back to the parking garage and go back to Jersey. I was spending a lot of time with her at work and out at night as well. However, I was growing a little annoyed when her phone would ring and it would be Delaware Dave. She broke up with him some time ago, and they were trying to give it another go. I noticed she would have to go to Delaware to visit him on the weekends. I didn’t like his control over her.
Why did he never come to the city? It seemed like she was making all of the sacrifices. I was having strong feelings for her and I was present. He would just call out of the blue at night when we were out and she always had to take the call. It was so annoying. Life would just stop, and she’d be arguing with him on the phone about who knows what. This happened on several occasions. Actually it happened a lot.
Once at the Ritz Carlton it happened and we had problems. I remember being angry with her due to her indecision. Another time we were out at McCrossin’s, a bar near her apartment. I would just have to sit and wait for her to get done dealing with him. I was here. He was there. I was with her. He was sitting home bitching on the phone. Who is more important? I remember when she got off the phone she said “I just feel like throwing this phone across the street.” Funny, how this would all play out in some form in the future. Like some black prophecy.
I even wrote her a little verse. I don’t know if she ever kept it, but I gave it to her one night sitting on the stoop outside her building. I was so in love with her.
But for the most part, our times together were lovely. One night I was walking her home, and we’d had a few drinks. We were listening to her music from her ipod. We had come upon a fountain. The Swann Memorial Fountain (also known as the Fountain of the Three Rivers) is a fountain sculpture located in the center of Logan Circle. It represents the three major streams in the area. The Delaware, Schuykill and Wissahickon creek. The fountain, by Alexander Stirling Calder designed with Architect Wilson Eyre memorializes Dr. Wilson Cary Swann, founder of the Philadelphia Fountain Society. The Society had been planning a memorial fountain in honor of its late president and founder. After agreeing that the fountain would become city property, the society was granted the site in the center of Logan Circle.
It’s a beautiful fountain. Sometimes during the summer months, you’ll find many children playing in it to cool off. Michelle and I stopped to relax and chat. She stuck her feet into the water, and before I knew it she was listening to her music and dancing gently in the fountain. She was walking all around in it, avoiding the spouts all around her. It was enchanting to see this woman I loved dance in the illuminated fountain at night. Like I was witnessing a beautiful blonde mermaid that had just gotten her legs and was celebrating her new life on Earth.
So despite my growing frustration with her indecision in regard to her romantic life, I was still having a wonderful time with Michelle when things were good.
Michelle always said: “I have so much fun with you that when the day is over, I wish we could do it all over again.”
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.
I just re-edited this chapter the night before this posted to the blog. I wrote some things before that sort of put middle aged women down. That was insensitive of me. There’s nothing wrong with middle aged women. I like all women. I think I was just a little sore from paying for everything and never really feeling much for Valerie. That’s not her fault. It would have been nice if she at least offered once. But that’s not why I’m probably not going to see her again. I just didn’t feel anything special when I was with her. No chemistry.
The last time I went out with Valerie was back on October 1st. We went to breakfast, and then walked the Midtown Fall Festival for a bit. She had to go to one of her son’s football games.
I was fine with all of that, because I had already set it up the night before to meet up with June (Midtown Fall Festival Too!) at 3pm. This way I could go to the street festival and drink my face off and have fun. Which I did. June was fun to hang with.
Valerie and I had initially chatted on Tinder. She “Super Liked” me. She seemed nice, and not crazy. She was also age appropriate. That is something I had been trying to do for a while. Try for the first time in my life to date women my age. My last girlfriend was 27. The one before that was 27. The one before that was 32. The one before that was 22. The one before that was 28.
You can see there is a pattern here. I don’t try to date younger women. It just happens that way. I don’t think I’ve ever dated a woman in her 40’s let alone her 50’s. So I figured dating younger women hasn’t worked for several reasons. They don’t know what they want, who they are, or where they’re going. They may want to get married and have kids. I’m not doing that. Been there. Done that. No thank you. If we have a big age difference, we are in two completely different places, mentally, socially, and life experience. We probably don’t have anything in common. We probably don’t share the same interests or friends. She won’t know any culture references I make. Do see the pattern here? The only thing we may have in common is our mutual attraction. Maybe she has daddy issues, as many of them do. Not my fault, but I’ll do what I can. We’re just in two totally different places in our lives. But… even better than pulling up in an exotic sports car, nothing looks cooler for an older gentleman than showing up at an event with a lovely young woman on his arm.
But that hasn’t worked for me in the past either. They don’t stick around.
I’m just not feeling the rush of love for Val. We’ve been on four dates. First one was drinks. Second one was a movie. Third was light dinner and drinks at El Rey, and four was breakfast and street festival. You know what? This lady is a bore. She talks too much about a bunch of shit I don’t care about. I don’t want to hear about her alcoholic ex-husband who is probably going to die soon. I don’t want to hear the whole detailed story about how she got her current job. I tried to date this woman. I didn’t feel anything. I kept using words like, nice, smart, stable, CFO, and good parent to describe her. Fuck that shit. I want a woman who lights me up when I’m around her. And damn it, I’m going to find one. It’s not like I’m on a quest. But I’m just going to continue being me, and living my life, and seeing what’s out there. But I’m not going to settle for grinding mediocrity, just because a woman is the same age as me.
The last time I heard from Valerie was the afternoon of October 1st after our breakfast/festival date. Even after it we said we would try to do better with the communication thing! I’m not interested enough in her after four dates to even give a shit. And the great thing is, apparently neither is she. I haven’t heard from her, since her last text, which said she had a lovely afternoon with me. Who knows? Maybe she met someone who is her age and is into her. Because clearly I’ve tried, and I am just not. So we’re even. She got some free meals and drinks and a movie out of it.
So I tried. But I’m done with Valerie.
But some time has passed and I ran an idea by my neighbor Trish. Valerie loves films. So do I. What if I have the occasional free Saturday and just go see some great film with her and then talk about it after over a drink? That would be cool right? We could just be film buddies. Trish said she probably doesn’t want that and it’s not a match and I should just forget about it and move on. Trish is crazy but in this instance, she’s probably right. So rather than circle back, I will move forward on my quest for true love.
But I will close with this. If I found the right lady that understood me and I felt real passion for, I wouldn’t care what her age was. I just would like a solid connection, even if she’s older than I am. Maybe I would be her sugar baby. It could happen, right?
Be careful what you wish for…
Stay tuned!
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday at 9am EST.
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 Wednesdays at 9am EST.
Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.
This is going to sound like it’s not true but it is. A couple of months ago during the Democratic Convention, I met Lida. I was coming out of the Rite Aid at 17th and Chestnut. This petite woman who appeared Indian or Middle Eastern in origin came up to me on the street. Late twenties or early thirties, caramel skin, black hair, and dark brown eyes. She asked if she had seen me yesterday out here with my wife and our dog.
I don’t have a dog, and I certainly ain’t got no wife! So I was a little taken aback. Philly is full of nuts. But she was very sweet. I told her maybe she saw me with my neighbor and her dog because we were out together with her dog a few days ago. She then asked me where the T-Mobile store was. I told her. She said she was from Northeast Philly. That she was staying with a friend here in center city for the Democratic Convention. She had taken a 2 week temporary volunteer position to help out with the influx of people. She said she didn’t know her way around Philly and asked if I could show her where the T-Mobile store was. I had nothing to do and she was very sweet, so I said yes.
So we’re walking over to the store and I’m staring to realize there is something off about this woman. She is asking me a lot of questions about my life. Am I married? Do I have a girlfriend? Do I ever want to get married? Stuff like that. Like I said, she was very sweet but seemed to lack some social skills. She almost seemed a little immature in her thinking. So we get to T-Mobile and she talks to one of the staff. She needs a charger or something. She asks me to hold her bags and I go have a seat.
After some time, she has what she needs and we leave. She says she has to go to Rite Aid and pick up a few things. She begins to tell me that she normally lives with her parents up in the Northeast. That she was bitten by a deer tick like nine years ago, and got a bad case of Lyme Disease. Bad enough that she has been on disability for the last 9 years. She has never been married. The more I listen to her the more it seems that she has somehow been locked away.
Lida takes my hand. She wants to hold hands. I love holding hands. I haven’t held hands with anyone since 2014. I did it but it felt awkward. I just met this woman. She tells me how she found this temporary roommate through Craigslist. I needed details. She said he was man in his sixties and was letting her stay at his apartment here in center city so she could do her job.
First thing I’m thinking is, how is this young woman who seems like she has been locked in a tower since the theatrical release of the Little Mermaid know any thing about going onto Craigslist to find stuff?
Then she wants to sit in a park. So I comply. I can feel that this woman is lonely. We’re facing each other on a bench, and out of nowhere she says; “Do you want to kiss me? Because it looks like you do.” It was surreal. Nobody does that. But… If I search back through my whole history and everybody I ever dated…yes, this has probably happened before. But we didn’t kiss. I think I was so taken aback by her statement. Odd thing was, I could feel that she wanted me to kiss her. I would have but it just seemed weird. She says she has to go to the store and pick up some things. I wanted to see how this whole thing was going to play out so I agreed to join her.
She seemed simple, but like I said she was so sweet. It’s as if she had little experience connecting with people. Especially the opposite sex.
We go to Rite aid and she hands me a list. A list? She tells me she has to get these things for the house. It’s part of the agreement. I ask her if she is fooling around with this guy in exchange for free room and board. She said she was not having sex with him and he is often out-of-town. I enjoy a challenge so I grabbed a basket and the list.
I ran a round the store getting all this stuff while she looked at mascara. I returned to her and she was very pleased at all of the stuff I got. But I think she was more pleased that she had a guy to do domestic stuff with. Frankly dear readers, I was bored at T-Mobile, and doing this was kind of annoying, and all the questions about life and love and hand holding were actually starting to get on my nerves.
So now we’re walking back to her apartment and I’m carrying a bunch of bags. She asks me what my plans are for the rest of the day. I’m thinking, she’s nuts and I don’t really want to be around this head case much longer. I tell her I have to be at a meeting at 2pm. Which was a bold-faced lie. I had to see a friend of mine at 3pm but I wanted to get away from her sooner. If she hadn’t been insane I would have worked something out with my friend. Because she was a nice looking little chick.
We get to the building that she’s staying in. There is a security guard at the front desk. She tells him that she just has to drop all of these bags upstairs at the apartment. He says fine, but I have to wait here in the lobby. I don’t care, maybe I should just bolt while she’s upstairs and cut this nut job loose. But she seems lonely and she is really sweet. And based on past experience when I was in a band, sweet crazy can be a lot of fun. She gets on her T-Mobile phone and calls the old guy who owns the apartment. She explains to him that she got all of the stuff he wanted her to get on the list at the store, but she needs me to help her carry all the bags upstairs. She explains to him that I am her friend and not just someone she just met. She’s really selling it. I’m acting casual and looking at my phone as if uninterested. Because I kind of am! At this point I’m assuming that the guy asked to speak to the security guard. She hands her cell to him and he’s listening, says a few words that I can’t hear and then hands her back to the phone. I’m assuming he instructed the guard to time how long we’re up there in his house. Lida thanks him and says goodbye. The guard waves me through and we head to the elevator.
We arrive on her floor, and this place is nice. There’s a full gym on this floor. We walk to the end of the hall and she opens the door to the apartment. It’s nicely appointed. I put down the bags and we start putting things where they belong. She excuses herself to the bathroom. I look around. The place has no view. It faces a wall of another building. The apartment doesn’t look lived in so I figure the old guy often travels.
Lida returns from the bathroom and comes at me like a pit adder. She throws herself into my arms and pushing her body against me, kisses me deeply. I return her attack. I do nothing to resist her advances. She stops for a moment. Her lips are only an inch from mine. “I’m so horny all of time.” she hisses, producing a small square packet from her hand. She looks me dead in the eye. “Put this on. You have to be quick.” She leads me to her room and we quickly disrobe each other in a tangle of limbs and garments. I push her down onto the bed and suit up with the prophylactic.
Normally, I like this sort of thing to last for a long time. But time is of the essence. My window of time for this to work is closing, and her thighs are opening. The fear of getting caught or being found out only heightens our arousal. (insert jack hammer sound effects here)
I don’t know if it was seven minutes or five. Probably five. Felt like three.
Panting and sweating, we quickly dress. I tie off the end of the condom and take the evidence with me. (Always a good idea fellas when you hook up with some strange in another man’s house.) We jump into the elevator and get out of the building. My mind is reeling. I play it cool as I stride by the security guard and out the door. It’s a little bit before 1pm, so what just happened is technically a nooner.
Lida is giggling and holding my hand and says she wants to go and sit by the water feature over at City Hall. I’m still a bit stunned from the event so I just go with her. She asked me if I liked it and did I get what I wanted and was I satisfied and do I think she’s pretty. etc. And I’m saying yes, yes, yes Yes! We sit down in front of a bunch of little kids playing in the fountains. It’s funny. The kids are laughing and playing and having a grand time in the water. It’s funny that as long as I’m sitting here with a woman everything is cool, but remove her from the situation and…awkward!
So of course she starts going on about kids and marriage and all of the other stuff. How she wants to get married and wants kids. I feel emotional. I’ve already done all of that and don’t want to do it again.I start feeling sorry for her. Because after the Democratic Convention leaves, she’s going back to her parents house in Northeast Philly. She tells me that tonight City Hall shows movies for free outside. She asks me if I would like to see whatever is playing tonight. I’m like…sure. Then she asks me to bring a blanket and make a picnic basket and all. How we’re going to go on dates and go to dinner while she’s here. I’m like, “Tell you what, I have to go to my meeting soon. Let me take down your number and I’ll text or call you when I’m done. I don’t know how long it will be.” She gives me her number. I ask her what she’s going to do with the rest of her afternoon and this was her response: “I’m just going to go back to the apartment and play with myself.” Really? I ask. “Yea, I told you I’m always horny. I’m just going to masturbate and think about having sex with you all afternoon.” I kind of liked that she used the words “Play with myself.” It’s such a juvenile term that sounds like something a parent would tell their child not to do, or to stop doing and somehow it made it dirtier. I liked that. I liked the idea of her just sitting back in that apartment and just going to town on herself for hours. Just ruining the upholstery throughout the house. That almost makes me want to see her again.
Almost.
I walked her back to her building. We hugged and kissed and I told her I had to go. I walked down Chancellor at 15th which is basically a filthy alley. Tears began to run down my face.
I never spoke to or saw Lida ever again.
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday at 9am EST.
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 Wednesdays at 9am EST.
Phicklephilly 