Courtney Love and drugs go way back; her father supposedly gave her LSD at the tender young age of five, resulting in him losing all custody of his daughter. She lost her husband, Kurt Cobain, to heroin addiction (and a shotgun blast) in April 1994 and just two months later lost Kristen Pfaff, the bassist in her band Hole, to heroin as well. Demonstrating impressive resilience, she was able to recover from all this well enough to deliver a well-received third album and an impressive performance in the 1996 movie The People vs. Larry Flynt (she played a headstrong drug addict prone to taking her clothes off – not a huge stretch. “Yea…how did she do the research to be that character? Follow herself around for a year?” – Greg Giraldo). She also got enough plastic surgery to reasonably pass for a Hilton sister.
But Love went in a tailspin over the next decade. A sizeable addiction to cocaine and prescription drugs saw her frequently arrested and in and out of rehab. She seemed to hit bottom while promoting her terrible solo album America’s Sweetheart, released in February 2004. The following month, she appeared on Late Show with David Letterman, leapt on the talk show host’s desk and showed him her breasts, then sat down for an interview in which she was largely incoherent. The following month, pictures surfaced of her letting a random man suck on her exposed breast in public. Then, at a show at a club in New York City in May 2004, she threw her mic stand into the audience, which hit an attendee in the head. He was taken to the hospital bleeding profusely and Love was arrested, charged with reckless endangerment and third-degree assault.
Love claims to have been sober since 2007 but her life has remained somewhat troubled; in December 2009 she lost custody of her daughter, Frances Bean Cobain, who even won a restraining order against her mother.
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Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.
I’m back at the restaurant. Mary is still there but she’s about to leave. “She’s in the restroom.” She says.
“I know. She text me.”
“Maybe she got lost in there too!”
I’m sitting at my table. The restaurant is nearly empty now. Out from the back comes a cute Filipino girl with blonde hair!
She gets to the table and apologizes profusely. I tell her I forgive her and we’ll move on.
The hair closest to her scalp is now blonde. As it descends to her shoulders it fades into a tawny color. She tells me that she let a friend of hers experiment on her. It looks kind of cute. A dramatic change from the black hair she had when I met her a week ago. It’s a little weird, but she’s got a cute face. I also notice she is wearing a really low-cut top that showcases her ample bosom.
She keeps asking me if I like her hair. I tell her it looks fine and that she looks cute. I don’t think she’s happy with it. I would bet you the next time I see her it’s back to black.
We order food, and start chatting. She is currently enrolled in the Community College of Philadelphia. She says she is studying criminal law. I find that impressive. She lives on her own, and the only job she has currently is the hostess gig at Sofitel. She formerly worked at Parx casino as a craps dealer, blackjack, and roulette person. She mentions that she also worked at The Sands Casino in Bethlehem. What she really wants to do is become a poker dealer, because they get to keep their tips instead of pooling them with the rest of the dealers. I ask her why she isn’t doing anything with the casinos currently.
“It’s a long story.” She says.
She asked if I am married. I remind her that I already told her that I was married, but divorced back in 2001. She doesn’t ask about children, so I don’t volunteer it. She says that marriage sucks. She said she got married about ten years ago and divorced three years ago. She tells me she has a younger sister that is still married. She says none of the rest of her family is here in the states.
Based on the math, I would bet that they both may have been mail order brides. They got their citizenship and off they went. Her younger sister’s marriage stuck, but Marisa’s failed. If her being a total scatterbrain is any indication as to how she is most of the time, I can see why she’s divorced. Once the cute, flirty exterior stuff wears off, I can see how the interior is just a tangle of bad wiring and grinding frustration. I ask her why her marriage ended.
“It’s a long story.” She says.
I notice something else about her during lunch. She chews with her mouth open. It’s fucking gross. iI makes her look like an amphibian. How has she lived for thirty-two years on this planet without anyone giving a shit enough to tell her to shut her trap when she’s chewing.? It really is unattractive. This is only the second times I have been appalled about a woman’s eating habits. The first being Annabelle. She ate like she was raised by wolves. Just shoveling the chow into her gob at feeding time. Just awful. (See: Annabelle – 2013-2014)
I’ve been told by several people that I am a very neat eater. One should have proper etiquette at the table and dine in a civilized manner. If you eat like an animal, you were raised by animals. That, or parents that just didn’t give a shit about you enough to provide you with the proper tools to break bread with other civilized human beings.
So the problem that she is facing with communication lies in her phone. I can see that is only a fraction of the problem. She says she dropped her phone into a toilet and it fried. The college she is attending gives out free phones if you’ve lost or don’t have a phone. It’s a safety thing for the students. It’s a crap phone that doesn’t do much of anything. But that doesn’t explain a person having no sense of direction and being an hour late. I’m sort of a sap for coming back and meeting with her but, cuteness won this round.
The bill comes and of course, no wallet comes out. I’ll have to ask my accountant if I can somehow claim these lunches on my taxes. Make Phicklephilly into a business entity, so I can write off all of these stupid dates.
She says she hasn’t drank an alcoholic beverage in 2017. I then ask her why she’s been texting me to meet her for a beer late night. She said I could drink but she would just drink soda. I think alcohol is the only way I could deal with her beyond today. It would have to be brown liquor and lots of it.
She tells me she was due in at work at 3pm but has called them to say she got held up at school. She uses my phone to call, and is texting with her phone. I ask her won’t she get in trouble for coming in late? She says as long as she calls, who cares. I’m starting to see why she’s working as a hostess at a hotel bar, and no longer with the casinos.
Marisa says she’s forgotten her black button down shirt for work. She has also forgotten her shoes. She tells me she has to go to H & M to buy a shirt. I have a little time, so I go with her. We’re walking south on 17th street, and I tell her it’s probably not a good idea to keep going towards Walnut street. When she asks why, I tell her that we will literally walk right past the Sofitel hotel. It’s already almost 3:30. She really has no sense of direction.
She sees a Forever 21 on Chestnut street. We hang a right into there to find the shirt. I notice her sense of humor is like Eliana’s. (See: Eliana – 10/2016 – Part 1 – Third Time’s the Charm) Sort of a poke fun at you humor. They say something, you believe they mean it, then they say, “Just kidding.” But this happens over and over again to the point of it being annoying. It may be something that is just part of their culture, but I don’t care for it. American’s have a hip sense of humor and some other culture’s humor is silly to us. Look at humor on your local hispanic channel. There’s nothing clever or ironic about any of their humor. It’s mostly silly. Almost vaudvillian in nature.
I don’t know my way around Forever 21, but I have no problem being the only guy in a store full of attractive young women. If Marisa can’t find her way to a restaurant on a major intersection in Philly, there’s no way she knows where to find a dress shirt in a retail outlet with two floors full of stuff. She starts wandering around and I simply ask one of the sales ladies. They direct us to where we should go. I actually found the right shirt for her. I have three sisters and a daughter. I know my way around women’s clothing stores.
She is going to get the shirt and now we’re looking at shoes. I ask her size and she says five. I find a nice pair of dress shoes in her size. She likes them and for some reason thinks they are 30% off.
So we’re all set. We go up to the counter, and she starts looking at stuff to hold her hair back. She let’s another woman go ahead of her, and I don’t know if she found anything. We go next and the cashier is ringing up the sale. The shoes are $27. She asks the girl if they are 30% off and the girl says no. I tell her that $30 is cheap for that sweet pair of shoes. But Marisa tells the girl to take them off the bill because she doesn’t want them now. Okay, so just the shirt.
She swipes her card and it is declined. the whole deal is off. I assume there isn’t even enough in her account to cover a $15 shirt. I don’t know if she expected me to step in and pay for it, but if that’s what she thought, then she can kiss my black ass.
We end up leaving the store empty-handed having basically wasted an hour where she should have been at work. She tells me she brought the wrong card. I know that the “wrong card” usually means, “No money.”
I walk her down to Sofitel, and before she walks down the alley to go in at the service entrance, she gives me a hug and a kiss. I watch her as she goes, to make sure she gets in okay.
To sum up this ordeal I would say this. She’s a cute girl with a nice body. She looks younger than her thirty-two years. I would take her to the movies, if I felt there was any sort of future with this girl. But I kind of don’t like her. She had a chance to just have a nice free lunch today, and she fucked it up royally. I think the chewing with the mouth open just ruined it for me. she’s an unmade bed in all aspects of her life.
But… I would sleep with her. But that’s it. Just a purely physical and sexual coupling. I don’t want to hang out with her again. It was just too painful for me. This poor soul is just a scatterbrained idiot. But I am very forgiving, so you never know.
Maybe being a blonde suits her.
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Marisa gets back to me in regard to my arrival at the restaurant. The lunch is set for 1pm.
Let the madness unfold here…
12:45
Me: I’m at the restaurant and our reservation is for 1pm
12:51
Her: Hey Ok, I’m gonna be there.
Me: Ok. (smiley face and thumbs up)
(She’s lost.)
1:00
Her: Hold on.
Me: Ok
1:22
Her: Hey where is actually. the hotel.
(Hotel? What? Why doesn’t she know where the place is? I’ve given her the name and address three times.)
Me: 18th and JFK Blvd. Right on the corner.
1:23
Her: the restaurant
Does she have a flip phone?
Me: Where are you? Yes. (Name of restaurant)
Her: Ok. Sorry. Walking. Cause. I’m.
Me: Ok. Where are you now? I’ve been waiting here for half an hour.
1:27
Her: I was lost. I’m sorry. I’m walking now.
Me: Where are you now? Ok
Her: I went the other side.
On the other side? The other side of what? The city? The Earth? Has she died and gone over to the other side and is texting me from beyond the grave?
It’s been forty-five minutes now. I have asked her three times now what her present location is, and she hasn’t responded with and answer. Where the fuck is she? I can walk from Penn’s Landing back to Rittenhouse in forty minutes.
Me: Ok. Where are you now?
1:35
Her: Near by
(Nearby what???? I hate lateness. As I said above, that was drilled into my soul by my father.)
Me: Near what? What is the cross street of your present location? ???
(I hear nothing but the familiar roar of frustrating crickets.)
I should fucking leave. On top of all, of this there are two assholes that have been sitting at MY table for over an hour and a half. They finished eating a half hour ago and are just dawdling.
I hate everyone now.
Except Mary. She doesn’t know this is a date with a young Filipino delish that looks like it’s not happening.
I haven’t heard anything from her. It’s been an hour that I’ve been waiting and texting this idiot.
Marisa stood me up.
It’s now nearly 2pm and I have been here for over an hour. I tell Mary I’m just going to leave and tell Marisa I have other appointments and I can’t wait around anymore. Mary agrees. I tell her I am very busy, but I miss her and want to see her. She is her usual self and feels the same. The thing with Mary is; she has never been married, no kids, so she isn’t romantically minded. She actually is unable to be lovey and flirty at all. She explained this to me on one of our dates. I understand. This tells me that I can either remove her armor or simply be the man who opens her up.
“I’m not a player” she says.
I ask her to explain. Mary says that she’s not used to being in the game anymore. “It takes me a long time to warm up.”
“There are other ways to warm you up, Mary.” I smile, and look away.
It’s all very interesting to me how I am now. I want her, but if I never saw her again, I’d be just fine. I see me in her apartment, watching movies with her and us kissing, and then me taking her. This is new to me. I normally have spent my life with younger women. Maybe now that I’m spending time with some of these older women, the scale has shifted, and now I’m the jewel.
I tell her that we should go to Doobies (awesome dive bar) and get some cheap drinks and food and catch up. She agrees. I tell her I’ve never left a restaurant because of a delayed or failed client. She says, “Tell them you were here and had to go meet other clients. It’ll put you in a position of strength. They were late or cancelled, and you were here on time. You were on point. They blew it. Now they owe you.”
Mary’s great.
I leave and head over to 17th and Market. I was supposed to have eaten lunch an hour ago. I head for my favorite hot dog street cart. I’m done with this chick. I order a grilled dog from the cart. I go for the brown mustard of course. I don’t need a bag. I’m going to ram that burnt crispy dog into my open maw like a baby Caiman.
I decide before my two afternoon appointments that have now been compromised by this silly, scatterbrained girl, I’ll stop over at the salon and commiserate with my partner, Achilles. I get there and rage out on how frustrated I am with these idiots. He agrees and comes back full force. We’re a good team.
Then this text comes in when I am at the salon. Remember, I got there at 12:45 for our 1pm lunch. It is now 2pm.
1:55
Her: Hey I’m here a cross. What is the restaurant. Name. I’m calling you. I’m here. Hi. Are you still here. Are you. Still here.
2:03
Me: I left
Her: Pls. Reply. Still here.
Me: Are you really there?
2:05
Her: Yes. Misconduct tavern. ? I’m here. Where are you
Me: Ok. On my way.
I jump in a taxi and head back to the restaurant. At this point I’m just doing it for the blog.
Her: I cannot.
Me: Cannot what?
Her: Use. The phone. To call now. I cannot. I was using. Someone. Phone. Ok.
2:08
Me: I’ll be there in 2 minutes
Her: K. I’m in restroo
I walk back into the restaurant
Me: Ok. I’m at the table.
Her: Ok
Goddammit.
Tune in tomorrow for the crazy conclusion!
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday at 9am EST.
Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.
I text Marisa the day before to make sure we were still on for lunch at the restaurant the next day for lunch at 1pm. She said that we were. She seems flaky, but this is a good sign.
The day of the lunch I text her in the morning to re-confirm that I will see her at 1pm at the restaurant, and provide the name and address again. Again, she confirms.
I get to the restaurant at 12:45, because I’m always early. If you’re on time, you’re late. My father drilled it into my soul about the clock and being on time. I have been grounded for long periods of time for coming home late. I learned my lesson when it came to being on time. If you set a time you’re going to do something, you have to do it and be on time. He was the father of four children. Children thrive in a family built on order. So do dogs. Kids are like pups. You have to be consistent. Children respond to things they can count on. It build trust. It builds a happy tranquil life. If things are in disarray and never scheduled the kids are confused and will lose their focus. My family was always tight and on time. If my father said something was going to happen, it happened at the exact time it was going to happen. But the bigger message and lesson here was, your word is your bond. If you’re late for something, that says my word means nothing and I don’t give a shit about you. My ex-wife was always late for everything and it drove me nuts. That among other things drove us apart. I pride myself on being on time and on point with everyone in my life. It was a hard lesson, but once I got it, I got it. Now whenever anyone is late for anything in my life I take a very dim view of that behavior. If you’re late because of traffic, or some extraordinary circumstance I am fine with that. Shit happens. The world is full of unforseen delays. It’s a city. Anything can happen. But if we have locked it down in the calendar and I have confirmed it with you, there is no reason for you to blow it. If you do, that sends up an enormous red flag that you can’t manage your calendar, your mind or your life. It’s a simple lesson in accountability.
I text her that I have arrived for our 1pm reservation. I have my table held by the hostess, one of my current squeezes, Mary. (See: Mary – 2016 to Present – Chapter 1 – unexpected Table for Two) I got there early, because everybody is always a little late because they suck, but it gives me a chance to catch up with her. I haven’t seen her since we destroyed a bottle of wine at Devon a few weeks ago on a Sunday.
We catch up a bit. She looks great and tells me about her little ailments that she’s finishing up. (She’s 69) It was nice to just text her today, and make the reservation for my favorite table. She tells me that the holidays killed her financially, so she has been laying low. I don’t think she’s accustomed to going out and having fun with a younger man. But Mary is awesome and always pays dutch. I tell her I haven’t been texting her, because I know she’s been just chilling, but I do miss her. I mean that. I do. I love hanging with Mary. I would like to spend time with her again soon, but I’ve been so busy lately with everything. Two jobs and moving the salon has been taking up all of my time.
I watch her doing her job and running around to different tables and think how I’d love to have some romantic time with her up at her apartment. I am going to make that happen. If she’s on a budget, I’ll just bring the wine up, and order food in. We can watch Casablanca and neck!
I can tell she’s happy to see me, and there is now a little history there. She asks me who I’m meeting today. I tell her I have been trying to get into Sofitel with a new education program with my company and I am meeting with a rep from there that could lead me to the beverage manager. (A bold-faced lie) I tell her that this client is a little flaky but I have to take the meeting to get to the main guy. I could have met Marisa anywhere for lunch, but I really wanted to see Mary, and I haven’t had their amazing chicken tenders in a while. Priorities in the face of exposure.
I got this.
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Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.
I was sitting at the bar in the Sofitel hotel the other night with Church. Normally we would be at our other favorite bar, but it really depends on who’s working. The people and personalities are what really give life to a good bar. I love our other bar and adore the staff, but sometimes you have to change it up. What I love most about Sofitel is that it a quiet bar. It is plush and dark and classy. The staff knows us and Church is a beloved figure there. For once I am riding his coat tails here. His legend looms large here.
We’re sitting there chatting, and this lovely little Filipino hostess walks up and starts chatting with us. Obviously, dark almond eyes, raven hair, and olive skin. She looked late twenties or early thirties. It’s hard to tell. The bar is dark, and she looks young.
She immediately starts talking to us both, which is odd. The hostess or host never circle the bar and check on the clients. It’s refreshing and I love the attention. Church doesn’t know what to make of it, but I’m on it. She’s very sweet, and affable.
I’m sipping a martini, and I think Church was having a coffee. He excuses himself to the restroom, and I make my move. I give her a free tanning card for the salon and my new business card to the institute. I also ask her if she’d like to have lunch with me sometime. She says yes, and I type her name in my phone. I do my signature move, by handing her my phone. She instinctively types her number in and I have her. A swift and easy kill.
She says she has to go make her rounds and off she goes. Church returns and all is as it was. My friends know my life and what I do, but unlike some, I never reveal it all. That’s a sign of weakness. You have to always play your cards close to the vest. Give them all enough so that they trust you, but keep your dark powers to yourself. That’s what makes you who you are.
We hang for a bit, and she’s already texting me that she got cut early. Church loves being on his phone so it’s not unusual for me to be on mine at the same time. I’m texting her. She’s adorable, and based on her forwardness, I know she’s available.
We leave, and as usual, Church drives me home, which I really appreciate. It’s winter and my man makes sure I get home safe.
Marisa and I text each other over the next week or so and I try to set a lunch date. I have to be careful, but I have to be bold. I feel alive when I am negotiating deals. Whether it is in the boardroom or the bedroom. My lifestyle isn’t for everyone. If you can’t run with the big dogs, stay on the porch. I feel like the man I was in my late teens and early twenties again. But I’m now middle-aged. No more do I have the fears and trappings of a younger man. My time on Earth has taught me well. I have overcome all of the bullshit I carried around with me for years. Life is more simple now.
I’m in sales. I have a lot of lines in the water at all times. I only surround myself with good people now. It clears the mind. All of the crazies are gone to spin-off into the universe somewhere. It means nothing to me now. If this girl wants to have lunch with me, fine. If not, who cares. I am now surrounded by willing, eager candidates.
I am not being arrogant. I’m a gentleman, and will always be. It’s in my nature since I was a teenager. That will never change. But I am not getting any younger, and if things don’t move forward now, I have to move on and cut loose the detritus. There’s always more to do and more living to get to.
Based on our texts, Marisa seems a little bit erratic. She’ll text me at 10pm and ask me if I want to meet for a beer in the interim. I tell her I am home and going to sleep. I can’t tell her that I am sitting in my chair watching season eight of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, drinking vodka clubs and smoking cigarettes, in a ripped T-shirt and an old pair of shorts. I just don’t feel like moving. I’ll get to her when I get to her. On my time.
So I set the date. Lunch at one of my favorite spots. She gives off a flaky vibe, so I know I’ll have to hard confirm this one to make it happen. I can just sense these things now.
Here’s the thing. Mary works as hostess at this restaurant. I don’t know why I chose this place. It could be a “worlds collide” moment for any other man. But I dig the danger. I have romantic designs on Mary, and I’m bringing a fresh baby to my table on a day she’s working. Why would I do this? Because I know the risk is low, as well as the value of both of these women. I can pull it off. What could go wrong?
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“Listen, asshole, you heckle me one more time and I’m gonna come down there and kick your ass.”
Iggy Pop is one of the most flamboyant performers in the history of music. He has an incredible stage presence and has given credit to Jim Morrison for introducing him to a free attitude and wild stage antics. Iggy Pop is credited with being the first performer to do a stage-dive. Some of his more descriptive exploits include rolling around in broken glass, exposing himself to the crowd, and vomiting on stage. He has been known to spark riots and has the ability to whip the crowd into frenzy.
On February 9, 1974 The Stooges performed at Detroit’s Michigan Palace. It was the band’s last show together before they broke up for three decades. Before the 1974 concert, Pop gave a radio interview in which he challenged a Detroit motorbike gang (the Scorpions) to a fight. He called them all a bunch of cats. In response, the gang attended the show and pelted the band with broken glass, beer jugs, urine, eggs, ice, jelly beans, and shovels. Despite the hostility, Iggy continued to taunt the crowd and said: “You pricks can throw everything in the world… your girlfriend will still love me.”
The Stooges fed off the crowd’s anger and continued to perform. During the show Iggy finally told the bikers: “All right you assholes, want to hear Louie, Louie, we’ll give it to you.” The Stooges continued to play a forty-five-minute version of Louie Louie, which included improvised lyrics by Pop. During the song he continued to yell and verbally assault the gang.
The concert finally ended after Iggy Pop focused his attention on one particular heckler and said: “Listen, asshole, you heckle me one more time and I’m gonna come down there and kick your ass.” The biker told Pop to come over, so Iggy jumped off the stage and confronted him. The biker continued to beat the crap out of Iggy, which ended the event. Luckily, the concert was captured on a reel-to-reel tape machine and recorded live. In 1976, The Stooges released the recording in an album titled Metallic K.O. It is the only rock album where you can hear beer bottles breaking against guitar strings. The album remains a favorite among Iggy Pop fans.
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“Jews are good business people. Your financial advisor, lawyer, and accountant, should all be Jewish.”
I met up with Dina the other night at Tria. Tria is a wine bar in center city. There are actually four locations. We met at their newest one, down in Fitler Square. It’s literally four blocks from my house. I think it’s my favorite one out of all of them now. I’m sure the old money in that neighborhood bitched about a bar going in on the corner down there. But I’m sure once they saw how nice it was they probably relaxed.
Dina arrives with a plan. She has worked in financial services for the past few years, and now she works for her dad’s firm. They’re good people, and I have known Dina for over six years. I decided I should invest some of my funds with her. I like her, and know what it’s like to be a broker. I used to do that job years ago when I worked in banking.
She was a total pro when she gets to the bar. We catch up, and then she breaks out the paperwork to create my account. I had given her a few stock ideas, but we both agreed they weren’t aggressive enough. The stuff I was looking at was almost like debt instruments. Bonds. I want equity and growth. I have to think of leaving something to Lorelei for the future. I tell Dina I’ll start with a small amount just to get the account open. Once it’s up and running for a month or so, I can plow more into it.
Dina, is young but has the soul of an old Jewish lady. She’s wise for her years. One of the things I like best about her, is her ability to cut through the bullshit in life and know what’s important. She knows a lot about me and this blog. She has always totally agreed with the lifestyle. Sometimes, I feel that some of the people around me are a little judgemental of what I do. I get it, and that’s their hangups. If they had the guts, they’d already be living the lifestyle and I’d be wanting to emulate them.
But Dina is very cool, and accepting of who I am. She has always embraced our friendship and nothing is too far out or over the top in regard to my exploits. She also has a good eye for identifying the “crazy” in some of the women I meet. I’m glad Dina is in my life and I know my money is with the right person.
Dina: “Jews are good business people. Your financial advisor, lawyer, and accountant, should all be Jewish.”
I’m sold. I’m meeting with her again tomorrow for lunch, and we’ll get this deal started.
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.
What did that guy steal from his boss at the party?
I worked at the salon on Sunday. Trish came to visit me with a Latte and donuts. We chit chatted for a while. When a friend comes to visit, it always makes the time pass more quickly.
My lady friend, Mary told me that at Devon Seafood they do 1/2 off bottles of wine on Sundays. I was down for that. After work, I was sitting there waiting for her. I sipped a martini, just to kick off the afternoon. The bar was crowded and a little noisy. But I had an empty seat on either side of me. I heard a voice to my left ask if the seat was taken, and without looking, I said it was. I turn and it’s Mary! (For more on Mary, See: Mary – 2016 to Present – Chapter 1 – Unexpected Table for Two)
We settle on a bottle of red zinfandel. It’s her favorite. So even if the bottle if $30 you’re only paying $15 each to share a whole bottle. We’re chatting, and Church shows up. He wasn’t very talkative, but seemed better after he ordered some calamari. He’s not much of a talker when it comes to more than one person.
We hung out there for a bit, and I could see Mary was getting a good buzz on. She asked me what was in the bag I had sitting on the bar. I told her after our little get together that I had to go to a holiday party for the new company I’m working for now. In the bag was a gift wrapped present of two different scarves. It was for a Pollyanna that they were having at tonight’s event.
When we left, Church went his way, and Mary decided to walk me over to the restaurant. We get there, and I think Mary wanted to go in with me, but I told her it was employees only. She didn’t mind. I told her I’d call her an UBER, but she said she wanted to walk to clear her head.
I went into the bar and mostly everyone was there. I grabbed a drink from the open bar. I was chatting with the owner’s son, Jon and his Asian girlfriend. She’s really beautiful, and apparently an heiress to a clothing company in China. She told me her dad wanted her to come back to China and run the company, but she’s not sure. If I were Jon, I would marry her and move to China and run that company!
After a bit, we all head upstairs to a private area they have set up for us. Everybody puts their mystery gifts on a table off to the side. The restaurant proceeds to serve us a delicious five course meal. It was terrific. I am sitting at the good table. The founder, is to my right at the head of the table, her husband is across from me, and I’m next to the heiress and Jon.
After dinner they begin the Pollyanna. Everybody picks a random number out of a hat. When your number is called, you go to the gift table and pick a gift. Or…you can take an existing gift away from someone else that already unwrapped theirs. It’s pretty intense.
So it’s my boss’s turn and she picks up the present I brought in. She doesn’t know it’s from me. No one does. She opens it, and is delighted with the two nice scarves. They could be worn by anyone, but she puts them both on. She’s happy.
Then it’s another guy’s turn and he gets up and takes the scarves away from my boss! I’m mortified and delighted by this crazy turn of events. Just for office politics, I’d never usurp a gift from my boss, no matter what the circumstances of the game.
She’s being a good sport about the whole thing, but I can see she’s probably disappointed that she lost two nice scarves.
Another number is called out. It’s my turn. I reach for a gift that looks like it’s a bottle of wine, which it is, so I’m happy. Free booze always goes down easy.
Another number is called out. It’s my boss’ husband. He gets up, and approaches the dwindling gift table. He smiles, and then turns to scarf stealer guy, and takes the scarfs right from around his neck! Yay! The gift I brought in that was good, went to my boss. It was taken from her, and her husband steps in at the end and gets it back for her. He puts on the black one and she has the brown and red one on now. It was a great moment. I’m new, so now I have a story to tell them both Monday morning on our face time conference call.
The party was great and a lot of laughs. It’s a fun crew. Hopefully, we’ll all work together for a long time.
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I wasn’t sure, but I sure felt the euphoria of Annabelle. It had nothing to do with her, but at that point, neither of us knew that.
I had sent an email to Annabelle sometime after our “First Date” thanking her for a wonderful time. I also asked her if she’d like to meet me for lunch at Jones (Stephen Starr restaurant at 8th and Chestnut) I knew the General Manager and knew I would get the exclusive hook up.
She got back to me and said yes!
I made a reservation, and got there early. My table was clear and I took a seat. the staff knew what to do. I waited. Annabelle arrived and I waved her over. She she had a t-shirt on and was wearing a pair of denim cutoffs that showed off her long slender legs. I hadn’t seen them before, but at nearly six feet tall, she had incredible pins.
She said she had just come from the pool where she had been swimming. I didn’t care. I was just happy that she had shown up. She had this scrubbed, day at the beach air about her. I liked it.
Within minutes a bowl of their signature mac and cheese, (which is glorious at Jones) arrived with a side of siracha. Annabelle was impressed. She wasn’t accustomed to going to restaurants with older men that made things happen. I could tell this. She was a simple girl who was surrounded by artsy people who had nothing.
We dug into the mac and cheese with great fury. Baby was hungry and liked to eat. We chatted, and I was happy to see this beauty again. I did my nervous talking thing I do with all new women in my life. But she was laughing a lot and I knew it was working. I was still friends with Michelle, but she was moving on with Delaware Dave, and I was feeling the power with this one. (See: Michelle – 2007 to Present – A Brand New Day)
I gave her a dvd of “The Art of the Steal” the documentary about the Barnes museum that we went to on our first date. I also brought her two miniatures of Chivas Regal’s Maple Whiskey, or as I call it, Hangover Nightmare Juice. At some point on our first date she mentioned that she liked maple syrup. Annabelle was delighted. How crazy will it be when I go to her apartment and find that she has no DVD player or a TV???
Sadly, I was still in love with the idea of love and didn’t know what I was getting myself into. If someone had pulled me aside and told me that this whole thing was a mistake that would have been great. But I know I would have done it anyway. I missed the drug of love I once had with Michelle and wanted it again. Annabelle was twenty-six and I wanted her. I didn’t even care so much about her age, I just needed to feed the addict.
That was me back then. I suppose that was me always. The failure that could always close beautiful young women. I wanted Annabelle to feed my addiction to love. I was the guy who couldn’t have a healthy mutual relationship with a woman. I had already gone down in a ball of flames years ago. A failed marriage, and a string of bad relationships. Nearly more than I could count. The last few had failed because they were younger than me and wanted marriage and kids. I had already destroyed that and had a kid to prove it. A hundred thousand dollars blown on child support and a broken family. Nothing worked. I wasn’t cut out to be in a relationship, let alone a marriage.
I think maybe I should just be alone. I love women. Desperately. But what if for some reason I am only in love with the idea of love and I am unable to actually be in love. I want Annabelle. She’s receptive, and artist, blonde, long legs…
I’m a fool. I am only chasing and courting her because she is young and beautiful. Just like Michelle. That unattainable gazelle that is just out of reach. I must have her. But do I really know her? Is it a match? She works in the arts. They’re a bunch of weirdo losers in the “arts”. We have nothing in common. Just this common connection. A girl I met in a bar that is kind of finding her way in life.
But I’m happy in this moment. I love the sound of her warm voice.
The lunch goes well. It’s the 17th of July. My father’s birthday. He’s 83 today. I picked this day because 17 is a common number in my family. It keeps turning up. That’s why this second date is happening. Annabelle is along for the ride. I’ll call my father tonight and tell him all about it. He’ll listen intently and live through me for once. But not really. He’s had his life. It has been so much more colorful than mine. Just like when I’m talking to him and telling a story. He’s not listening. I know he’s just waiting for me to shut up so he can talk.
He’ll ask her name, and I’ll tell him. He’ll access her heritage and maybe approve. If she sounds western European she’s good.
I remember when I was out in L.A. and working as a musician. My girlfriend at the end was a nineteen year old black girl. I remembered when we finally packed it in and came home. I loved and trusted my dad, because he was awesome. I told him about the black girl and what had happened. I’ll never forget what he said, ” Are you into blacks now?”
I should date and fall in love with a beautiful black girl just to smite that motherfucker. Yea, I can call my dad a motherfucker, because he fucked my mom and made me.
But I digress…
The lunch goes really well. She was excited about the pair of miniatures of Chivas Regal Maple.(The shit tastes terrible) I also told her I would have asked her out to a second date sooner, but I was waiting for the Art of the Steal DVD to be delivered in the mail!
I have to go meet with the nice people at Chris’ Jazz Bar and she has to go to a photo shoot.
We go outside, and her bike is locked to a pole out front. A bicycle. A simple girl. She’s young and beautiful. Oh, those legs.
I’m in love with the idea of love.
What’s wrong with me?
I tell her I have to go and we hug. I remember very specifically, I went in for the hug…and went for the kiss on the cheek back by the ear. I think we all want to kiss on the lips. But you must sometimes settle for the cheek. It’s just the stupid rules of dating. Especially in the beginning.
She tells me her birthday is coming up soon.
The baby seal is hot. She’s been sitting on the rocks with her mom. She decides to jump into the sea to cool off. The water is crisp, and frothy.
Twenty five yards away, a dark grey dorsal fin cuts through the water, sensing the life. Feeling the drug of the next love affair. Ready to feed.
I tell her I have some good ideas for her birthday, and she agrees. (I’m so going to make this happen)
I kiss her cheek and say that she’s great.
I walk west on Sansom. I text her that it was amazing seeing her and want to see her again.
When I get to Chris’ Jazz Cafe, I’m waiting for the general manager, and I get a text.
It’s Annabelle. She agrees, and gives me the XO
When I saw the XO I knew it was on. I kissed her on the cheek. That’s still the friend zone. But you can cross over. If a girl throws you an XO in an early text, you’re in boys.
I wasn’t sure, but I sure felt the euphoria of Annabelle. It had nothing to do with her, but at that point, neither of us knew that.
She wanted her dad, and I just wanted to be loved by pretty girls when I was thirteen. So here we are, and we’ll have to see what happens.
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David Bowie is an innovative English musician that has sold over 140 million albums. He is an extremely popular singer and has done a lot of work to help fight important world issues. In 1972, Bowie became one of the first popular singers to reveal to the public that he was bisexual. Bowie gave an interview that was broadcast around the world. Since that time he has bounced back and forth on the issue and remains married to Somali-American model Iman.
In 1970, David Bowie was married to a woman named Angela and the couple divorced in 1980. In 1990, after a ten-year gag order ended, Angela Bowie appeared on The Joan Rivers Show and gave some controversial details about her time with David. She is quoted: “I caught him in bed with men several times. In fact the best time I caught him in bed was with Mick Jagger.” At this point, Howard Stern, who was involved with the interview, asked Angela if Jagger and Bowie had their clothes off. She said: “They certainly did.” The accusation became international news and Jagger released a statement that dismissed the claim.
A week after the interview, Angela Bowie went on television and said that although she had seen Mick Jagger and Bowie naked, it didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t sleeping. She clarified: “I certainly didn’t catch anyone in the act.” Some people have linked the event to the 1973 Rolling Stones hit song Angie. However, David Bowie said it best: “About 15 or 16 years ago, I really got pretty tired of fending off questions about what I used to do with my penis in the early ’70s. My suggestion for people with a prurient interest is to go through the 30 or 40 bios on me and pick out the rumor of their choice.”
Check out the video below.
This is the gayest thing I’ve ever seen.
Enjoy!
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday, Tuesday & Wednesday at 8am EST.
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