California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – Alayna – The Phlebotomist

I went out with a phlebotomist a couple of times. On the third date I invited her to go with me to dinner at a good restaurant about 90 minutes from where we lived in L.A. I said we’d be back by 10. The unstated purpose was to see if we could have a pleasant sustained conversation, both ways and a nice dinner. Not a very high bar.

On the way there, she asked me if I did drugs. No, I replied. I said I was the squarest person she was likely to meet. She then proceeded to praise the prescription drugs she could get *for free* from the hospital where she drew blood. I have no idea if she was pulling my leg of if that’s for real with medical people (maybe someone can enlighten me). So that was strike 1.

Strike 2 came about 20 minutes later when she told me that she had connections to the Mafia. I looked at her like she was from Mars and she said, “What?” She then proceeded to tell me that her brother was a dentist and it was well known that dentists were heavily in with the Mafia and it was a profitable way to launder money. Again – no idea if it’s true. But that was strike 2.

The final strike happened in the last 15 minutes of the 90 minute trip to get to the restaurant. She proceeded to tell me that she had anger problems. I said, everyone gets angry. She replied with an example. She’d pulled into a gas station to get gas. Just as she was pulling up to a pump, a trucker came in to unload fuel to the gas station, blocking her way. She said that she got out of her car, walked up to the poor schlub and started shouting and telling him to move his effing truck.

Well that started me to thinking: She and I are out on another date and she starts yelling at a guy in a motorcycle gang. He looks at her and tells her she’s a scrawny little chicken and to buzz off. She starts yelling even more. Now – there are two likely scenarios. #1: She comes at me and starts asking if I’m going to let this oaf get away with insulting her. #2: The guy gets off his bike and walks over – not to her – but to me and says, “Buddy, get your b*tch to shut up or we’re going to have real problems.” That’s strike 3.

We had a pleasant dinner, a fairly silent drive back home. I gave her a peck on the cheek, said I was busy for the next few weeks but we could get together sometime after that. I never called nor saw her again. Hopefully, any contract her Mafia friends might have had on me has long expired. 🙂

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Facebook: phicklephilly       Instagram: @phicklephilly       Twitter: @phicklephilly

Advertisements

Meet The Tinder Prostitutes

Guess what these women on Tinder really mean when they say ‘80 roses an hour’? Hint: it’s got nothing to do with flowers

Sarah went on Tinder for the same reason lots of women our age do – to find out how many single guys there were in her local area and to have an easy, safe way to get in contact with them. But, unlike lots of girls, Sarah doesn’t want to find single men because she looking for a boyfriend. She doesn’t even want a no-strings hookup – at least not in the way you’d think. Unlike you’re average user, when Sarah sleeps with a guy she meets on Tinder she leaves with much more than new number in her a phone and a funny sex story to tell her mates – she leaves with a pocketful of cash. Because unlike most 24-year-old girls using Tinder, Sarah’s a prostitute and she’s using the hookup app to lure in clients.

 

‘It made so much sense – where else do you basically have a database of all the down to fuck men in your area?’

‘Tinder has at least doubled my business,’ Sarah, who had a job in a strip bar before becoming a prostitute four years ago, explains to The Debrief. ‘In the last week alone, I’ve seen 12 clients all from Tinder and have earned over £1,000. I got the idea from a friend of mine who’s also on the game. I think she actually joined Tinder to find a boyfriend or whatever, but was sent dozens of messages from guys asking for no-strings sex, threesomes or naked pictures – there was basically no romance there at all. She just thought to herself “I’m not getting anywhere using Tinder to find a bloke, why don’t I just use it to boost business?” It made so much sense – where else do you basically have a database of all the down to fuck men in your area? – and she found it so easy I thought I might as well give it a go. I just made a profile, wrote caption that made it kind of obvious what I do for a living, matched everyone who I was OK sleeping with and then waited for matches to get in contact with me. I know more and more prostitutes are cottoning on as well – it’s made my job insanely easy.’

There have been reports for some time that Tinder has been being used this way over the globe. New Mexico State Senator Jacob Candelaria specifically blasted the app in his attempt to ‘clean up’ dating websites which allow the soliciting of sex. He told KOB Eyewitness News 4, ‘Our laws can’t and don’t keep pace with technological advancement and there will always be people looking to exploit those loopholes. We’re weak. Our courts have said our pimping laws are not applicable to the internet.’

And it looks like the same thing’s happening here, but should we be surprised? The dating app’s anonymity and pure reach make it a natural fit for sex workers. If you’ve ever borrowed your male mate’s phone to ‘play’ Tinder from the other side of the fence, you’ve no doubt come across a few of the profiles yourself. In between the ordinary profiles, you’ll find one or two pictures of lingerie-clad women provactively posing for selfies. That in itself isn’t exactly unusual, but what sets these profiles apart is what the women are offering in their ‘about’ section.

I was blown away by how quick, easy and transparent it could be to buy sex over Tinder

The ‘kind of obvious’ messages that prostitutes use to distinguish themselves from other girls’ profiles are easy to spot once you know the (admittedly, not hugely subtle) code. In London, at least, they’re easily identifiable by a proclivity for using rose emojis. Descriptions I have come across when I was researching this feature include ‘[rose emoji] 80 roses for the best night of your life’, ‘90 [rose emoji] for BBBJ’ [meaning bare back blowjob – blowjobs without a condom – according to Sarah] and ‘80 roses for an hour, GFE [Sarah says this is for a girlfriend experience] [rose emoji].’ In case you still haven’t figured it out – ‘roses’ mean ‘pounds sterling’.

Using my male housemate’s Tinder account, I was able to chat to three prostitues in one day and was blown away by how quick, easy and transparent it could be to buy sex over Tinder. On all three occasions, the process was the same – match with the girl, chat to them over Tinder about what I wanted and how much they would charge and then they’d send me a mobile number to ring and an address to go to. The price ranged from £70 for an hour with, extras such as blowjobs or anal increasing the price to over £100, to £300 for the entire evening and a full ‘girlfriend experience’. I was able to negotiate these prices without leaving my sofa or even speaking to the girl and that seems to be the point – it’s remarkable how easy Tinder makes it for users to skip the chit-chat and just pay a stranger for sex – all without deviating away from their iPhone.

For Sarah, the appeal seems to be that Tinder allows her to sell sex for cash while remaining anonymous and slipping past any interference from the police. ‘I had always worked at brothels or kerb-crawled before I started using Tinder, which was a nightmare, because you’d have to deal with hassle from the police. I’ve been in a brothel once when it was raided and it’s not an experience I’d like to repeat. And being shooed away by police on street corners is fucking boring. I’ve tried Gumtree and other websites, but they’re now really hot on closing down profiles that are soliciting sex. Tinder lets me get on with it completely privately – they message me, we chat, they come round, I shag them – or sometimes even just chat because it’s not always about the sex – and then they leave. It’s not traceable.’

When anyone reports Sarah’s profile and Tinder shuts it down, all she does is make another Facebook profile and get right back on.

The laws around prostitution in England and Wales are far from simple. The act of prostitution is not in itself illegal – but there are certain laws that criminalise activities around it. Under the Sexual Offences Act 2003, it is an offence to cause or incite prostitution or control it for personal gain, and the 1956 Sexual Offences Act prohibits running a brothel and it’s against the law to loiter or solicit sex on the street. So selling sex on Tinder is not only completely within the parameters of the law, it allows these women to bypass any legal issues they might have selling sex through ‘traditional means’. No wonder Sarah finds it so appealing. For their part, Tinder is clear that such activities are against the app’s terms of service, which forbids commercial solicitation of any kind including ‘advertising or soliciting any user to buy or sell any products or services not offered by the Company’. Not that that’s had any affect on Sarah – when anyone reports her profile and Tinder shuts it down, all she does is make another Facebook profile and get right back on. It’s difficult to see how Tinder can keep on top of policing it.

So it certainly seems to be functional for Sarah, but what affect is it having on her emotionally? Using Tinder to solicit clients strips away what little face-to-face communication Sarah had with the people she’s about to have sex with so it becomes completely transactional – almost like doing a supermarket shop. Is she worried about what emotional damage she might be doing to herself? ‘Sometimes I think they forget that there’s an actual human behind the profile and there are times when it hasn’t been ideal,’ she admits. ‘People troll you a bit, but it comes with the territory and I just block them, because it’s a waste of my time. But even in person, people aren’t always very nice. When you meet with clients in the brothel or on the street, they obviously know what you look like in “real life”, but I admit that the pictures I used on my Tinder profile show me looking at my absolute best and, sometimes, the guys are disappointed with what they see when they arrive. Mainly all that people do is make a unkind joke about my appearance – which I can handle – but on one occasion someone actually left, which was obviously a bit shitty. And I do worry about my safety, but if I’m concerned, my male neighbor – who is a good mate – has a key to my house and I just text him if I feel intimidated and he gets rid of them.’

Interestingly, Sarah says that the sex she has through Tinder tends to be more ‘vanilla’ than some of the requests she had when she was working in a brothel. ‘I used to get people asking for weird stuff – one guy wanted me to wank him off into his own mouth– when I was in a brothel, but because the users on Tinder tend to be predominantly men in their twenties and thirties, they usually don’t want anything that niche. The most bizarre request I’ve had from Tinder was from a banker in his late twenties who wanted a classic sub-dom scenario and for me to urinate on him, but that’s not really a big deal to me. I got into this because I love sex and I have a really high sex drive. I get to have sex for a living and I absolutely love my job. Anyway, most of my friends on Tinder have sex with guys who then disappear off the face of the planet. The only difference between me and them is that I’m charging.’

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Instagram: @phicklephilly      Facebook: phicklephilly   Twitter: @phicklephilly

The Racist

A few years ago I’m walking down the street just finishing a conversation on my old ass, craptastic, flip phone. Just as I’m hanging up, wham, I bump into someone and drop my phone. I apologize, grab my phone, and head back to work.

Ten minutes later I get a phone call: Hey, I think we switched phones by accident.” Turns out the girl I bumped into had the same phone as me. Anyways, we plan to meet at a local coffee place after work that day to trade back. I walk up and see this very cute ginger wearing a suit dress. We chat for a bit: turns out she works at a bank, likes what I like, and is totally up for getting dinner this weekend! Great!

Saturday evening rolls around and I swing by her place to pick her up. Out her door walks a girl who looks remarkably like said date only instead of professional office clothes, she is wearing 4 inch platform ho boots, fishnet stalkings, some sorta corset like top and and spiky hair.

Now normally I don’t really care about a person’s style, but I was bit taken aback. “Who cares” I think and jump out to open the door.

Cue witty banter.

Everything is going great! Shes laughing at my jokes and her humor seems to match mine perfectly. She asks what the plan is for the night and I tell her I’m going to take her to my absolute favorite high-quality dining establishment… and get her a Big Mack. Hell, if she plays her cards right, I might even supersize it. She runs with the joke, and even one-ups me. My spirits are high. She might have wild fashion, but this chick is cool.

We arrive at this nice pub in town and I turn off the car.

“What about McDonalds?” Legit confused look on her face…

I laugh and upon seeing her face stop in confusion. We head inside and order dinner. I have a scotch and she orders the biggest boot (this restaurant has glass boots) of bud light I’ve ever seen. The waiter comes over and takes our order. As he’s leaving, my date whispers rather loudly: “I can’t believe they let his people in such a classy place. We should probably check our food for spit before we eat it.”

Our waiter is black and has ears…

So I am beginning to panic. She continues her whispered commentary on the supremacy of whites all the while putting away an obscene (but impressive) quantity of beer. Dinner arrives and she makes a point of checking her plate for saliva. Waiter and I make eye contact and I like to think that he understood that I agreed with him that this girl was nuts.

So three more boots of beer later, she excuses herself for a bathroom break while I take care of the check. I apologize profusely to the waiter for my date’s conduct. Dude is a true gentleman: “Don’t worry about it man, there are all sorts of people in this world.” My date returns and we head out.

In MY car she pulls out a cigarette and lights up. Doesn’t even bother putting the window down. “We should go shooting out at my dad’s farm! What’s your favorite fun?”

I vaguely excuse myself from such activities and point out that it is rather later and time to go home. I drop her off at her house and she says: This was great, except for that waiter. We should totally go get that Big Mac next time. See you soon!”

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Instagram: @phicklephilly       Facebook: phicklephilly    twitter: @phicklephilly

White Bustier

“She can’t even get some peace and quiet at her friend’s place as she’s also getting stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey.”

Oh man. I used to keep a diary when I was actively dating because there were some doozies. Two come to mind right away. There’s the “You’re going to be such a good father if you get me pregnant” girl, and the Sunday afternoon walk of shame.

Met this chick on Tinder. Pictures of her look great, we share a lot of mutual interests and conversation wasn’t too bad. Plan to meet for an afternoon drink and watch the ballgame at a local bar I love.

I get there a bit early, she’s almost 30 mins late. (You all know I hate that) Bartender knows exactly what’s up and we shoot the shit until she hauls her tardy ass in the door. As she arrives, bartender says “I don’t think this is going to go well” and kind of grimaces at me. I turn to see this girl walk in, makeup still on from last night, white bustier type top, tight black pants and doesn’t look like she’s slept much.

I think to myself, did she seriously just walk of shame from being out at the club last night and fucking a random right to this date? No way, but it appears as such. 30 seconds in and I knew I had no interest, but I had to see where this would go.

She got the minimal amount of attention required as I watched the ballgame, drank beer and ate lunch. She sipped on water and had a few bites of fries. Cut to the chase, she serenades me with the tale of last night, how she was out, came home, couldn’t sleep because her ex-boyfriend (who moved out, to the apartment DIRECTLY above her in the same building) has been banging chicks almost every night and makes it a point to race the bed across the room while doing it. A true assertion of dominance by him, she just can’t take it. So, she apparently went to her friend’s place where she has keys. Went there, crashed on her couch without waking said friend. Wakes up to her friend’s shower running in the morning. Thinks nothing of it until a strange man she doesn’t know walks buck-ass-naked into the living room with his twig-n-berries hanging in all it’s glory. Turns out her friend was also banging a random last night.

Now keep in mind I really couldn’t care less at this point… I tell her there’s a lot of bangin’ going on, where’s her tales of coitus? She begins to break down, how everyone is getting laid except her, she has to listen to her very recent ex-boyfriend taking chicks to the meat market upstairs, and she can’t even get some peace and quiet at her friend’s place as she’s also getting stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey.

That’s when I notice the tattoo on her arm. In shitty cursive is the name “Liam”. I just ask “Is his name Liam by chance”? She looks flabbergasted that I just guessed it and asks if I know him or something. “No, not really, but I seem to have a good understanding of who he is”.. I point to her arm and she just looks down in shame.

Ended up walking her to her car, gave her a pity hug and told her she seemed like a nice girl, but she should probably take some time before hitting the dating scene. She wrote me later that day and thanked me for being so nice and she was sorry she was such a mess. I wished her well.

She came up on a “People you may know” Facebook suggestion a few months back. Doesn’t look like she’s doing much better, sadly. Poor girl.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Facebook: phicklephilly       Instagram: @phicklephilly       Twitter: @phicklephilly

Kita – Chapter 32 – Locked and Loaded

“I’m sad about the loss of the nostalgic love I had with him. We’ve obviously grown apart.”

She comes into the salon and as always I’m delighted to see my little China doll.

I’m so fickle. I love so many women. Cherie’s my girlfriend, but I hardly see her due to our schedules. I want to stay with her and I like this arrangement. I’m sure she’s not happy about it, but I like the idea of having a girlfriend that isn’t around much. It just works great for me. Just ‘greatest hits’ and gone. Then back again for more a month later. It’s always glorious to be with Cherie, but I love my freedom to work and be with my friends and my alone time.

I have another gift for Kita. But she starts the conversation first.

“I texted JR.”

I look away and grimace.

“No wait. Let me tell you what happened, Charles.”

“I’m listening.”

“I just asked him how he was doing and he got combative right away. I was like, how are you? and he said, ‘can’t you see on Instagram?’ I don’t follow him on any social media.”

“That’s good. You shouldn’t. Don’t look at that stuff, it’ll make you crazy.”

“So my friend who didn’t know we were broken up asked me why JR is posting all these pictures with some girl that’s not me. I told her we had split and she said the girl isn’t so hot, and it’s his loss.”

“Obviously. You’re beautiful, kind and sweet, Kita. He’s a manipulative idiot that squandered the best person in his life.”

“Thank you, Charles. So he said he moved on because I took up with Steve and that forced him to move on. It really made me mad because I only started talking to Steve because JR was doing what he did for all of last year.” (See her record in my previous post about Kita)

“Exactly. He’s trying to turn it around like you left him and took up with someone from his crappy neighborhood, and he’s butt hurt about it now that he can no longer control you. He abandoned you, Kita. He’s an asshole.”

“Yea, I was just trying to do the adult thing and be civil to him and maybe get some closure, and he started in on me trying to make me feel guilty when that simply isn’t the case. He’s a punk and I’m done with him. Steve was my rebound and I’m done with him too, but I’m not going to talk to JR anymore. The way he behaved on the phone shows me who he really is and even though I’m sad about the loss of the nostalgic love I had with him, we’ve obviously grown apart.”

“You’re correct in your thinking, Kita. You’ve grown out of his juvenile controlling, insecure behavior. He’s a child. You said yourself, you hate boys. I know they suck, but it gets better. TIME takes care of everything. I promise. I’ve been through a lot. Pain and heartbreak is a natural process we all have to go through at some point and it’s how we learn to cope with loss.”

“You’re right. Thank you. Do you have any snacks?”

I go and get my stash. and hand her the box full of cereal bars.

“Mmm… Oatmeal raisin!” She says as she happily bites into the bar.

I love feeding her and taking care of her.

“I have something for you.”

Her lovely eyes light up. “Ooh… what is it?”

I hand her this:

“Ohhh! Awesome! Thank you! My mom is going to be so happy when I tell her you gave me this!”

As she’s reading the instruction on the back of the package, I smile and my mind drifts to an imaginary conversation with her father the Admiral.

“Kita, I don’t know how comfortable I am with my 21 year old daughter hanging around with some middle aged man from a tanning salon. You’re going out to dinner with him and spending an exorbitant amount of time with this man.”

“He’s a dad with a daughter my age who has lived him since she was 18. He gave me this last week. (Shows dad the pepper spray) That’s the first thing he gave his daughter when she came to live in Philly.”

“Approved. Spend all the time you want with him. He sounds like my kinda guy.”

My active and creative mind also cruises into another fantasy sequence…

“Kita. I love you and have strong feelings for you. You know that. The more time you spend with me the more my feelings will grow for you. I know you’re a young woman of great virtue and want to retain your maidenhood. But one day you’ll be skipping through the woods bringing a picnic basket full of goodies to your grandma. I’ll emerge from the darkness and reveal to you the wolf I truly am. (I hand Kita the pepper spray) This… is for that day.”

Funny, right? I’m the one Kita needs to worry about. But all kidding aside. I never operate like that. If she comes to me… When she comes to me, she will do so willingly and yield to me. That’s how it always is in my life. I never take. It’s always handed over to me in mutual celebration.

I dream of that day. I think of her asleep in my arms. I smell her hair as I’m nestled behind her like a spoon. My mind recalling the night before of passionate, searing lovemaking the like she’s never felt.

Back to reality…

“Here let me show you how it works, dear.”

I show her how to hook the unit to her key chain. I hold her dainty hand in mine and guide it to the quick release button to separate the pepper spray unit from the key chain. I then show her how to hold it and how to simply slide the safety to the right to engage the unit.

She’s holding it.

“It’s now armed, Kita. Press down on the trigger and fire it in a horizontal, back and forth motion across the assailants eyes. It will immobilize your attacker and give you time to get away quickly and call 911.”

She presses down on the trigger and the unit shoots a tight stream of the police grade pepper spray 10 feet away at the wall.

“Ooohh! Wow! That really works! Thank you, Charles! I got it. I’m ready!”

“Keep that with you at all times, Kita. You’re only five feet tall. You’re small and someone may think they can take you. You hit them across the eyes with that, and they will be temporarily blinded with searing pain in their eyes and it’ll give you time to get away. I care about you and don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“You’re so amazing, Charles. I’m so glad I met you.”

She grabs me and hugs me. Kissing my face and lips.

I love this. (And hope she never has to use it on me…

Kidding! It’ll be the last thing on her mind if…. WHEN she comes to me.)

We’re making progress…

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Instagram: @phicklephilly      Facebook: phicklephilly        twitter: @phicklephilly

How Using Marijuana Could Benefit Your Relationship

So much for the lazy, snacking stoner stereotype.

New research reveals that cannabis use between couples increases might benefit their relationship, in the bedroom and beyond.

“We found robust support for these positive effects within two hours of when couples use marijuana together or in the presence of their partner,” says Maria Testa, a social psychologist at the University of Buffalo and the study’s lead author. “The findings were the same for both the male and female partners.”

What they call “intimacy events” include demonstrations of love, caring and support.

For the study, Testa and her colleagues found 183 married or cohabitating heterosexual couples that had been living together more than six months, with at least one partner who uses cannabis a minimum of twice a week. Participants were between 18 and 30-years-old, and had no history of mental illness or addiction.

During a month-long period, each partner independently reported instances of cannabis use and intimacy events in real time via their smartphones. Researchers limited events attributable to the drugs to a two hour window after the fact, according to previous studies showing that cannabis’ effects diminish after about two or three hours.

A separate paper by Testa using the same sample group also showed a slight increase in conflict following cannabis use, but those effects were marginal compared to the positive events. She hopes results of both reports will help inform medical practitioners with patients who use the drug habitually.

“If you’re a treatment provider it’s going to be difficult to get people to reduce or stop their use entirely because these couples see marijuana as something positive in their relationship,” says Testa. “To ignore that is to make it more difficult for people to change their behavior.”

Testa has extensively studied how alcohol effects romantic relationships, and later expanded her research into cannabis, which has not yet been investigated through this lens. The current study is funded by the National Institute on Drug Abuse, and appears in the journal Cannabis.

“I’ve studied alcohol as a predictor of intimate partner aggression for years,” she says. “Because alcohol is related to aggression in general, it’s not surprising to find that aggressive effect in the domain of relationships.”

She thinks there are too many presumptions made about how pot affects relationships.

“We need to know about the effects of marijuana use, instead of merely assuming what those effects may be,” says Testa, also adding, “There is very little research on the immediate consequences of marijuana use and intimacy, so this study fills an important gap in the literature.”

“On a personal note, I have found that when I am under the influence of marijuana I experience more intense orgasmic sensations… not in my genitals but in my mind. The sudden explosion of positive chemicals in my brain can only be described as… absolutely incredible.

Try it!

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Facebook: phicklephilly       Instagram: @phicklephilly       Twitter: @phicklephilly

California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – Samantha

I met this girl one night at one of our shows. She seemed pretty cool, but a little on the weird side. But she had good taste in music and was into all the same metal shit I was into, so I went with it.

We went on a few dates, made out once. I took her out to dinner and then we went to a gay bar for some karaoke. She left me to go chat with the boys at the bar while I sat alone at a table.

They kept buying her drinks and she got more and more drunk while I sat there sipping my beer waiting for her to come back. Eventually a group of college-aged lesbians walk in and she immediately wanders over to them. They all go back outside for a cigarette. I sigh, and finish off my beer. My date and one of the other lesbians come back in and walk towards the back of the bar towards the bathrooms. They stop, and start making out against the wall.

I left, but my date followed me out. She cried and begged for me to not leave her there and that she was drunk and made out with strangers sometimes. All romantic feelings were crushed right then and there, but she and I still hung out as friends for about a month. Then one day she made the moves on me. I declined. She punched out a window and then ran out into the middle of the street and laid down. I drove away and cut off all contact.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Instagram: @phicklephilly      Facebook: Phicklephilly    twitter: @phicklephilly