So I reluctantly sent a text to Sheryl about how I’m writing a blog and she’s going to be in it.
(See: Sheryl – Not The Muse) to get the full history.
I wish this had gone better, because it could have been so much better!
I was torn with the decision to contact her due to the 20 year gap and the history there. But the blog won’t write itself and I did it.
She responded positively and really wanted to re-connect with me and meet up this time. I tried a year ago, and it went to shit because she bailed on the last-minute because she said her ex husband was going to jail and her son was upset.
But it’s been a year and I wrote about it and figured why not, at least meet with her. She was the inspiration for a character in a book I wrote in the 90’s and she was fun to be with then.
We set it up and instead of me meeting with the 22-year-old girl I knew back in the day I am now meeting with the divorced 42-year-old mother of 2 in 2018.
No big deal. I’m divorced and Lorelei is with me at 22.
We set it up for a Sunday at 4:30pm.
I’m picking up a shift at the tanning salon from 11 to 4pm.
She has anxiety about travel but caught the PATCO line from Jersey and I tell her I’ll be there to meet her at the station at 16th and Locust.
I finish work and head to the stop. Some guy begs for change and I blow him off just like all of the grifters I can’t help in this city as I descend the steps into the final stop for PATCO.
I hear and feel the rush of hot air as the train rushes into the station. I stand in a spot where I’m easily seen from all exits.
People pour from the train and rise on the escalators and climb the steps to the sidewalk above.
I watch for her. Many people pass. A crowd of commuters roar past me and I stand there like a statue in the middle of the terminal.
Once the people are gone I remain thinking maybe she’s on the next train, but based on her texts she should have been on this one.
I walk down the hallway, and there is one woman standing there in a long dress looking at the city maps and frantically texting.
I walk down and look through the bars and speak.
“Oh Hey! I didn’t know which way to go. I was just texting you.”
Sheryl is much older than I remember her. The youthful curvy blonde is gone. Here is a dyed red-haired middle-aged woman who has a considerable number of miles on her. This is not just age. This is bad experience and a collection of bad decisions. Decisions that have been made over and over. Bad men, alcoholism, crime, abuse, poverty, children and bad lifestyle decisions.
We hug and it’s nice to see a ghost from my very distant past that isn’t dead.
We sit outside at Fado, a really great Irish bar at 15th and Locust. (The food and service is terrific!)
It’s all a little weird so I order a Manhattan to take the edge off. She goes with a Jack and Coke.
We catch up and I tell her everything that’s been going on in my life for the last 20 years and she does the same.
But I hear how bad it’s been for her. I know things were bad in her life when I met her 20 years ago, but it hasn’t stopped.
Her whole life has been poverty, baby mama drama, shitty family, alcoholism, abuse, kid problems, horrible men, and employment struggles.
It’s sad but true.
But it seems nothing’s changed in Sheryl’s life as she’s grown older.
But I will say this. Hanging with Sheryl, and drinking and smoking and reminiscing about the old times was really nice. We picked up like in was 1996.
But it’s 2019.
I’ve evolved beyond all of the trappings of all of my old life. So much has changed in my life. No more anxiety. No more depression. Love to work at my job. Love to be busy. Great friends and all is good with my family. Daughter is fine and happy. We live in Rittenhouse. We’re firing on all cylinders here at camp phicklephilly.
But when I listen to Sheryl, she still sound like she’s struggling with all of the trash from her past that sadly is still sitting front and center in her present life. Her whole life is in a stinking bag someone left at the curb.
As the drinks flowed, of course the conversation turned sexual.
Sheryl is still trapped in making bad decisions in regard to bed mates.
I know Sheryl very well and the things that will ignite her libido, but at her current age I have zero interest in approaching her.
During our meeting I could tell it was made clear to me she wanted me to meet her at some future date and perform a certain deed that would have fulfilled her desire.
“I wish I could find a guy I could trust to blindfold me, restrain me and have his way with me, but in a safe way.”)
I love the idea of what we discussed, but sadly, I’d rather act that play out with a much younger and prettier victim than this target.
(To be honest with all of you my faithful readers… I just want to live my life and have no interest in doing anything with anyone kinky anymore. That’s all behind me now.)
Here’s the worst part.
The first server comes out and tells me that her shift is ending and we can close out so she can transfer the check to the next girl.
Of course knowing the industry I want to cash her out and tip her.
Sheryl offers No Quarter.
No offer of cash or help with the tip.
Okay. No big deal. She took a train out of her bubble and came to Philly on a Sunday to meet with me.
But we continue on with another server and Sheryl wants food. She gets Salmon and I get chicken fingers.
The drinks are still flowing and she’s pounding Jack and Cokes.
Everything’s great, and it feels like the old days…. but it’s 2019 and so much has changed for me, but it seems like nothing’s changed for Sheryl.
If anything, it’s gotten worse for her. She’s great at her job at the bank and is very much-needed but it’s obvious why she never gets a raise or is promoted.
The corporation is ashamed at the way she looks.
Sad but True.
Sheryl is still driven by her sexual urges and that was the thing that drove us together 20 years ago, but for me I have grown past that in so many ways. Sadly, Sheryl’s life is still ruled by that nonsense.
I am light years beyond all of that, and I now look upon these meetings as only fuel for this blog and novelty.
But here’s the worst part for me.
It was nice to reconnect with my former friend, but after the second round of food and drinks, there was no effort on the part of Sheryl to kick in for the bill.
All of the best people in my life at least offer.
I have friends where I’m actually surprised when they even try. I love them dearly.
Sheryl texted me and wanted to pencil in the last Sunday of every month to meet up and hang.
I can’t afford that. $80 a month to circle the drain? No fucking way. That’s a thousand dollars a year.
I’m offended at this point.
Thank you for your time in the 90’s. I really enjoyed our conversations and the sex.
I’m glad I got to see you, but I expected you to be a bit further along.
I know we could have had some fun together this year, but I’m going to pass Sheryl.
You’re cut off.
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