Clarice – Chapter 6 – Happy Birthday, Baby – Part Two

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

So it feels like we’re driving forever. I feel like I’m a million miles from the city. I really love living in center city, despite its problems. Driving through the rolling countryside of Pennsylvania this time of year, sort of bums me out. I’m just going by all of these big houses all isolated out here. It reminds me of the suburbs in South Jersey. Another depressing time in my life. I don’t like being out here. But again, I’ll be good because it’s her special day.

We finally get to the park. It’s a nice place and it’s not too cold out. It’s a pretty huge park. You can walk through it, but it actually has a road through it. So you’re not walking on any dirt paths. There’s a few people around. Mostly couples, families and people jogging or walking their dogs. Walks in the park in the winter aren’t really my cup of tea. Walks in the park anytime aren’t really my cup of tea. I’d rather be in a bar in the city, having a drink and a cig.

As we walk further into the park, I can feel a mix of anxiety and depression wash over me.

I think it was because all of the trees are bare for the winter, and I’m in a strange place.

There is actually something comforting about being in a city. I have some of my happiest memories back in Philly. I also am starting to get a very real vibe that I have to find a restroom soon. Brunch is starting to work on me. Not good.

We were out there for a while and I did see a port-o-potty out there. It almost beckoned to me off in the distance. But I just didn’t want to go in there. I figured I could make it back to the main area and find a restroom there.

During our walk through the park there was some good conversation and laughs. I also kissed her a few times. That was nice. She tells me how she’s had Bells palsy before. She feels like it has affected how her face looks and moves. I didn’t even notice anything.

Find out more here: http://www.webmd.com/brain/tc/bells-palsy-topic-overview#1

But now that she’s mentioned it, I see it. Normally it clears up after a few weeks and your face goes back to normal, but it appears in her case some of the paralysis has remained. I don’t mind, because it’s hardly noticeable and she’s still attractive.

We finally get back to the beginning of the park, and I tell her I need to use the restroom. I head over to the little building, praying to God that the door isn’t locked yet. Because the sun is nearly down and it’s getting dark.

Thankfully, the door is open and I make it to the stall. It’s a huge relief when my cheeks hit the bowl, and I’m sort of glad that it’s an outdoor bathroom. I’ll leave it at that.

I return to my lady, and we walk around the main property. There is a mansion there. It really looks cool. We stroll around the property and there are some more kisses exchanged.

I have been with her for five hours now, and I’d be fine with just going home. I’m also kind of dreading waiting for the train at 69th street. She wants to take me to her house for a drink. I’m fine with that, we’ll see what happens.

Her house is quaint. She lives on the first floor, and rents out the second floor to a retired gentleman.

I make myself a vodka and ginger ale, and she’s making some sort of cosmo or something. We retire to her living room. We’re just hanging out on her couch chatting and sipping our drinks. She then gives me a tour of the house. Now, this house is pretty cozy, and I’m assuming built maybe back in the forties or fifties. But she hits the lights in her bathroom, and I am blown away. It’s been completely remodeled and redesigned. Against the back right corner is a huge glass shower, with a stone floor. The commode is across from it. In the center of the room is a huge jacuzzi type tub. Along the south wall is a huge double vanity, and get this; the floor is heated. It’s one of the greatest personal bathrooms I’ve ever seen. Had I known this before, I may have been able to hold it until I got here so I could have dropped a deuce like a king!

She said it was a present from her father. She had purchased the jacuzzi tub and then didn’t have enough money to finish her dream lavatory. She said it sat in a huge box in her bedroom for a long time, and her father kicked in a bunch of money to finish the bathroom. It’s a killer bathroom, but it’s an over improvement to the house. I can’t for the life of me understand why one older woman would want a bathroom this nice. But maybe someone out there does. I guess if it makes her happy and she spends a lot of time in the bathroom, it works. But it’s just a weird purchase. It’s obvious she doesn’t have much money.  She’s sixty-two and her daddy is still buying stuff for her house. He’s got to be well into his nineties, so maybe he doesn’t give a shit about the money at that age. I guess if I had a tub like that, I’d be in there with a bunch of booze, and get a flat screen in that bathroom.

We had another drink and hung out in her living room again. I wasn’t getting a vibe that sex was happening, and frankly I didn’t care. It shouldn’t be something I was wondering about, or deciding if I think it should happen. It should be a spontaneous celebration of how we feel about each other. And I’m just not feeling it.

She volunteers to drive me home. I am overjoyed that I don’t have to wait at 69th street station tonight. It doesn’t take as long as I thought it would, and soon I am on my street in front of my building. We kiss goodnight and I thank her for the ride, and for choosing me to spend her 62nd birthday with her.

She drives off. Tomorrow she’ll discover the black and pink scarf I hid in her dashboard. It’s wrapped in a little black bag. Just a little something extra for her birthday.

But, I don’t really want to go out with her again.

 

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.

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly

 

Clarice – Chapter 5 – Happy Birthday, Baby – Part One

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

Today is Clarice’s birthday. Which she says is the actual birthday of Martin Luther King. She set it up that I would get on a train and go to her neighborhood today. She lives in Upper Darby. She’s supposed to be at the 69th Street station at 12:30pm today to pick me up and take me to her favorite restaurant for brunch. (What’s this day going to run me?)

I stop at the salon in the morning. Normally I work on Sundays but I switched with Trish, so I could hang with Clarice on her birthday. I kind of feel special that out of all of the men Clarice could have spent her 62nd birthday with, she picked me. I chat a bit with Trish and then head over to Suburban Station.

I have to get on the Market Frankford line and take it to 69th street in Upper Darby. Little sketchy, but it’ll be okay. I drop my token at the turnstile and go through. I see that there is a yellow police tape blocking off the steps to go down to the platform. But it’s the only way to get to Upper Darby. So like the moron I am, I go under the tape and head down to the platform. I’m waiting for a while. I notice I am the only one on this side of the tracks.

Some guy who looks like he works there says to me, “You know the trains are only running on the other side today.”

So I scamper back up the steps, under the tape, and over to the other side. Within a few minutes the train to 69th street arrives. I hop on and find a seat. This is only our third date. Do you think she believes in the 3rd date rule? I don’t believe in that horse shit notion, but maybe she does. I know she likes me. She’s a nice looking lady and fit. On our last date she said she has no ass and skinny legs, but great tits. I’m a leg man, and I’m not thinking about any of her physical attributes. She is in good shape for 62 years old. I think it’s that theater background I’m struggling with. She was an opera singer for years which tells me she has little real world experience, like Annabelle. That makes her come off as a little silly and immature. Can you imagine being in your sixties and still behaving like you’re in your twenties. Crazy! But now I know what to expect from these artist types.

She always says I’m fitting her in. Why would she feel she needs to be a priority? Does she think she’s the only woman I’m dating? Couldn’t there be someone younger and of greater value in my life right now?

I’m a little nervous. Is that a good thing? I think it’s only because I going to a strange area, and then she’s going to drive us to a restaurant. Am I going to have sex with her today? I think I would. Yea, I totally would. Maybe since she told me she has cancelled with other guys she wasn’t interested in, and never cancelled with me, I’m the one. I brought condoms. But she’s at an age where she is well out of range of ever having children. Speaking of which, you should be wary of a woman who never remarried, even when she was young, and still hot. What’s up with that? I do like the idea of never being able to get her pregnant ever. Because the last thing I want is that nightmare now. At 62 do you think she’ll have a dry coochie like Halle Berry?

What? You’ve never heard that? It’s true!

I want to have sex with Mary too. (See: Mary – 2014 to Present – The Unexpected Table for Two) That would be a fucking record. Literally. I like Mary. It would probably be low maintenance sex. Me and the hot grannies! Hip cracking sex!

Once you follow my blog into 2018, you’ll know this was all nonsense….

Anyway, I hop off the train at 69th street station. The area is sketchy like I said. I text her that I’m there. She’s parked across the street. I cross the street and get into her car. It’s a little messy. We greet with a kiss and off we go to the restaurant. During the ride over we’re chatting and I’m making her laugh as usual. Maybe I’m doing my ‘nervous talking thing’. I ask her if she’s been on any good dates lately. She says she has decided to not answer that question anymore. I’m fine with that, but it seems juvenile. If she has decided to not answer that question, what is she telling me? That either she has stopped dating and is seeing me exclusively, or that she’s still dating other men. I’m going with the latter. I don’t care. I just feel bad for the other saps like me, buying her food and drinks all the time.

We pull into the parking lot of the restaurant. She drives right up near the restaurant looking for a close spot. I tell her there were lots of spots in the back. She doesn’t like this idea. My father never understood why people always wanted to park right on top of a place. He would call them, lazy gasoline asses. He would always park a bit away so we could walk and get some exercise. Plus, it’s easier to leave a place when your car is closer to the exits. So because I was raised like this I don’t like her attitude in regard to parking.

We go into the place and I check our coats. She has a reservation, which is good. It looks like a popular spot. The brunch crowd is good. Apparently, this is her favorite spot to hang out. She seems to know the staff very well.

It’s some sort of Asian fusion place. They seat us at this little table against the wall. It’s one of these little booths where you have to sit next to the person you’re with. Then pull the table in towards you. I don’t really care for this kind of set up. I don’t need to be right next to someone when I’m eating. The manager comes over and greets her, and she introduces me. She announces that it’s her birthday like she was eight. I kind of hate adults that make a big deal about their birthdays. The manager says that her brunch is on the house, but she was so busy projecting, I don’t think she heard him.

Of course she orders champagne, so I do the same. They bring us plates and tell us it’s a buffet. I’m not really a fan of buffets. You don’t know who’s been touching the food. You don’t know how long it’s been sitting out. You tend to overeat sometimes. Just not a fan. I’m thinking a lot of overweight people like buffets. They can eat as much as they like.

I load up my plate and return to the table. The table is really small, and I don’t really like it. But I’ll be good because it’s her special day. I actually went back for seconds.

After brunch the bill comes, and of course she doesn’t go near it. I knew I’d be paying because it’s her birthday. She just isn’t valuable enough to me for me to keep this up. And frankly, this could be the last time I ever see her. The good news is, the bill was only $39 for everything, so that’s not too bad.

I get our coats, and we’re back in the car. Now she wants to go to Ridley Lake Park out in Delaware County.

 

Tune in tomorrow for the conclusion of this story.

 

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.

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly

Annabelle – Chapter 5 – Sudden Jazz

I didn’t know The Children’s Place sold little suits and ties. He’s got little man syndrome so bad, and it’s so annoying.

I had circled back to Annabelle about plans for her birthday. I told her I would get us a pair of tickets to see Natasha Leggero at Helium Comedy Club on the Friday. Happily she agreed.

I was at a Swedish Festival during the day with my dear friend Alice. (See: Alice – 2012 to Present – The Cute Recruiter) It’s held at the Swedish Museum down on Pattison Avenue, south of the city. Good times. Free beer and delicious food. After the festival, Alice was good enough to drive me back up to center city. I was meeting my friend Marigold, and a few of her friends at Franklin Mortgage. (See: Marigold – 1997 to Present – Good German Stock)  

Franklin Mortgage is one of the first speak easy type bars that appeared in the city over ten years ago. At one point it was this super cool, exclusive hidden underground bar. But as the cocktail revolution rolled forward in Philly, it lost it’s luster. Gone was the original owner. The bartenders were snooty. It took twenty minutes to get a drink, everybody was writing about it, etc. Who cares now. I don’t want to spend $14 on a drink when I can get one that is just as potent for $6 elsewhere.

But I met them there because Marigold was in town and that’s what she wanted. I hop out of Alice’s car and thank her for a lovely day. I head into Franklin Mortgage and the girls are at a table against the wall. There is one stool at the end for me to drop my butt. I’m happy to see her and remember most of the ladies with her.

Marigold asks me about what’s happening in my life. I start telling her about Annabelle. Marigold is very protective of me. I tell her how I am working on an idea to take her out for her birthday next week. Annabelle is a Leo like me and her birthday is at the end of July, and mine is the beginning of August. Marigold tells me to be careful of my heart, and make sure that this girl knows what she wants. I assure her everything is fine. But what Marigold doesn’t know, and neither do I, is that the drug of love is coursing through my veins. I’m on a bit of a euphoric ride of infatuation with Annabelle.

Maybe after the failure of my relationship with Michelle,  (See Michelle – 2007 to Present) I think I physically missed the feeling of falling in love. It wasn’t a sexual thing, it was just that rush of someone new. You think after a couple of years you won’t love again, and then it just comes knocking on your door unexpectedly. It can sometimes overtake you. It may not even be about the person so much. It’s just that you’re one of those people who has it, and you become very emotionally invested in someone very quickly.

I’m sitting there with Marigold and her ladies, when I get a text.

It’s Annabelle. She says she’s over at Chris’ Jazz Cafe (Which is two blocks away) with her Mom and if I’d like to join, I could drop by. her Mom was visiting her for her birthday this week. Her people are from Virginia Beach. (I’d love to come over and meet her Mom!) I mention all of this to Marigold, who tells me to cool my jets.

“Wait a solid fifteen minutes, before responding.”

I hate these games, but I guess they have to be played in the beginning. I wait the full fifteen, then text her back that I am wrapping it up with some friends. I head over there. I pop some Dentyne Ice into my mouth and go inside. There is a really good three-piece jazz band playing in the corner of the room. These cats are cookin’. I find her at a table down front. There is no sign of a mother of any kind, but there is this little guy sitting at the table with her.

Annabelle is six feet tall. This guy looks to be maybe five foot two? It’s like Anton and Moore. Schwartzenegger and DeVito. Annabelle looks nice. She is wearing makeup and a pretty green dress. She tells me her mom went back to the hotel. But she also texted her little friend here, when I didn’t respond to her text right away. (Damn you, Marigold!)

This guy, I can’t even remember his name. He is an annoying piece of shit. Like a little drunken turd that won’t stop talking. It’s like he’s on coke or something. I’m very respectful of the arts as you know, and this little pig in a blanket won’t shut the fuck up.

If you want to run your goddamn mouth at a jazz club, go sit in the fucking back of the bar. But if you’re at a ringside table, you respect the musicians that are making the music and keep your festering gob shut. Listening to this bitty turd go on and on is killing me. He works in some sort of financial services. I didn’t know The Children’s Place sold little suits and ties. He’s got little man syndrome so bad, and it’s so annoying. But I did come late, and he is a friend of hers. But who you keep around as a friend, says something about you, and I suppose I should have seen this as some sort of foreshadowing of things to come.

Anyway, I’m happy to see her, and lost in my lust/euphoria or whatever it is. Happily at one point, mini maggot leaves and I am so relieved. It was like being tossed around in a midget storm and finally washed up on a warm sunny beach with Annabelle still here.

We had a few drinks and I was stupid happy to see her. She was excited about her birthday week. Which I find appalling for a twenty-six year old woman to be excited about. But That’s my opinion, and I’m into her, so she can think and be excited about anything she wants. Her mom is in town for a while, and she’ll be spending time with friends this week, and even doing a little tubing somewhere. I find all of this a bit strange. Who celebrates their birthday for a week and what sort of hillbilly goes tubing in Philly?

It’s getting late, and I walk her outside. I hail a cab for her. We hug and there is another cheek kiss. Off she goes.

I liked that she popped this little ‘extra date’ in a week before I was supposed to take her to the comedy club. Maybe she really likes me and wanted to see me sooner. She seems to like me. She said she told her mom about me. That’s a good sign. But what if she did this to slip me in real quick to keep me on the line, but maybe feels that things are moving forward and she’s unsure of what she wants or even how she really feels about me. She seems a little youthful. Sort of immature. Like someone who doesn’t have a lot of real world experience, because they have caged themselves inside the so-called “Art Community.”

Or maybe I’m just paranoid.

 

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.

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly