I need my sleep from life in general. I wake late on Monday morning. There are things I need to do. They need to happen today. The first day of the week. I have to go deposit my check and talk to Alicia.
There’s no real reason to do any of this, other that the directive that always drives me. I like Alicia my favorite teller, and I want to break the shell of her understanding and take her to a nice lunch. I want to get to know her.
Why not. I’m attracted to her and her aloofness. That and those arms. It’s weird but it’s mine. There’s something unique about her. If I can just secure some time with her outside the credit union I can learn all about her. Is it for me or the blog?
Do I really want to get to know this stranger that handles my money or am I just doing this to create content for phicklephilly?
Have I done things before that have simply driven the blog? I’m starting to think that I have. I’m managing my current relationship as best I can and all of the facets that come with that but why this teller?
I know nothing about her. She’s behind bulletproof glass. Is this simply a new goal for me to keep my life interesting and drop the dopamine?
I’m starting to think that. Is the art now driving my life?
I don’t have a problem with that but I can feel the anxiety placing its cold fingers around my heart as I climb the steps to my credit union.
I take some deep breaths as I unbutton my overcoat and loosen my scarf.
“I need to get into character and just do this.”
I walk into the credit union and head to the desk. I fill out my deposit slip. My hands are shaking a bit. Am I just nervous or are dementia tremors kicking in from the drinking? I write my name and social security number and it looks like the writing of an old man.
I’m 55. Middle age has got me by the throat, but I still have mad game and after decades of dealing with my anxiety and depression… I can push those loser off me.
I know what I’m going to say. I worked it out all weekend. I’m ready. I’m going to run the program like I always have. I’m so good at this now. I turn to Depression and tell him to cheer up and go to work. I turn to Anxiety and tell him to settle down and just be excited at the prospect of a new lady.
I used to be at war with these demons and now we’re all on the same side.
Get in line.
I’m standing there with my paperwork. There are tellers waiting on customers. Just another boring Monday at the office.
I see her.
Her back is turned and she’s working on something at the back counter behind the teller area.
Fuck! She won’t see me. I’ll have to go to one of these other people.
Bust suddenly she turns and sees me. She smiles.
“I can take you down here.”
Time to close this.
I scamper down to her window. The credit union’s quiet. I need to do this now. I push my check and deposit slip into the slit under the bulletproof glass.
“How are you? Nice to see you.”
This is where the rubber meets the road my friends. The move has to be made now or you will lose forever.
“You said you like french toast.”
“Yeah” she smiles.
“On the weekends brunch goes to 3pm, but during the week breakfast ends at 11am. Most end at 10:30. The only place to get french toast in this city during the week after 11am is Midtown Diner. I’m not taking you there. Great spot, but no. I spoke with my friend Jason at Square 1682. He’s the General Manager. I described the dilemma of your 11am lunch break. He told me if I email him and give him the day we’re meeting for lunch he assured me that you will have french toast for lunch at 11 even though breakfast ends at 10:30. And the french toast at Square 1682 is slammin.”
Alicia is listening intently and smiles. She is delighted by my efforts.
This is how you date my friends.
Go slowly. Build the trust. Make her laugh. Make her feel safe. Be non menacing. Be trustworthy. Be creative. Bend time. Be original. Be extraordinary.
So many men fire off to quickly and blow it. My father taught me to be the lion lying in the grass and doing nothing. Like wine it could take years. Most men aren’t that patient. You have to be if you want something. I’ve waited years for the things I’ve wanted.
If you can do that and be elegant, you’ll close the sale and win the girl.
It may not work out, but it’s never the kill. It’s the thrill of the chase.
That’s the true rush of romance. The best part. The unknown. The excitement of the possibilities.
This could just be a lunch, but I want nothing more from Alicia. I love the idea of the old horse being able to get a lunch date with a beautiful young girl though bulletproof glass can still happen.
I tell her my efforts and Alicia is entranced.
“I can’t do this week, but next Thursday at 11 would work.”
“Perfect. May have your number?”
Alicia grabs a pink post it and scrawls down her phone number. She sticks it to my deposit receipt and thrusts it back to me under the glass.
The die has been cast. I’ve won after over a year of desire.
I tell her I’ll push her my contact info in a text. She smiles and agrees.
I’ve done it.
There is a pause and we look into each others eyes. We smile and I realize I have all I need and my transaction is done.
“Okay then. I’ll set it up.”
“Yea. Have a great day, Charles.”
“I have some more checks to deposit so I’ll see you soon.”
I walk out of the credit union. Should I go out and have a celebratory smoke or go eat before my shift at the salon because I have to train the new girl (Eileen or Amelia) tonight?
Go eat. You’ve earned it buddy!
Lunch date with hot Alicia!
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