Ambria – Chapter 7 – Monday Meeting

Before she got in the car she said, “Who are you?”

Advertisements

I was planning on taking Ambria to the movies on Monday afternoon. We both like matinees so we settles on a film and I scheduled us for the 1pm show. But a few days later she had to take her Mom’s boyfriend for his colonoscopy. It was at 10am and then there is recovery, and then she would have to drive him home because he’d be out of it. So it could go on until 3pm. I figured we could go to the 4pm show. But I told her no pressure. We could always go to the movies next week.

I was also wondering this: Her mother passed away back in January. Can you still technically have a boyfriend when you’re dead? Ambria referred to this gentleman as her mom’s boyfriend. I cleared this up with her later that evening. They were together for years but her mother always claimed that he was just a “friend” not a lover. But I think it’s nice that she’s still friends with her late mother’s beau and does things to help him out. Ambria is a giver, hence the career as a nurse.

The day goes by and she’s in touch. It’s 3:30pm and she says she can meet me in 40 minutes. I tell her to go to 16th and Chestnut.

“Where?”

“Just go into Two Liberty by that coffee shop. I’ll be there when you get there.”

I come into Two Liberty at 17th street and cut through Bloomingdales just to cool off. It’s another hot day. I cut through the shops and food court and head down the steps to the 16th street entrance. I can see Ambria sitting by the window at a little table. She looks lovely. She’s wearing a light sundress with flowers on it and I see that she has straightened her hair. I like the baby curls, but straight looks very chic as well.

We greet and give each other a little peck on the lips. She wonders what adventure we’re off to today, and I tell her what I’m looking for.

“Well I was looking for a place with a few things.

1. It’s a hot day, so it needed to be a cool place.

2. You’re special, so it needed to be a cool space.

3. It needed to have an early happy hour because we’re meeting at 4:30 instead of 5pm.

4. It needed to have an elevator because my ear has been stuffed up lately and I thought a nice long elevator ride could pop it open.”

“Wow. You’ve really though this through.”

“I have. Come with me.”

We step outside onto busy 16th street. We walk a quarter of the way up the street and go back into Two Liberty. But it’s a different entrance. It’s the entrance to the residences as well as the only way to get to R2L.

R2L stands for Restaurant at Two Liberty. It’s a Daniel Stern spot and probably his most successful just due to its location. The 52nd floor. The walls are all windows to see the city. I’ve always found the food mediocre, but the view is spectacular and the place looks posh. It’s a great place to take someone on a date to impress. I wouldn’t hang there, but it’s a good jumping off point.

Great thing is, we’re early. 4:20 to be exact. Ambria’s never been there and she loves the place. The view isn’t really what it should be because of the heat. The humidity clouds the view. If it were a cool clear day, you could see for miles from the bar at 52 stories up.

I order a vodka martini straight up with a twist, Ketel One. She goes with theLoree’s Jones, named after one of the regulars that always ordered this drink so they named it after her. It’s got citron vodka, ginger liquor, peach, and soda in it. It’s pretty good. It’s a light crisp cocktail.

My drink on the other hand arrives and it appears to be a weak pour. I taste it and I can taste the vermouth. It’s not a good martini and certainly not worth the $12 to $14 price tag that I’m sure it has on it. She likes her drink, and I tell her mine is weak. The bartender is young maybe he doesn’t have a vodka martini quite down yet.

“Shall we ask him if he’s in training?”

“Oh my God, Ambria. You are so bad!”

We giggle and I tell her that although it’s only going to taste worse as it gets warmer, it’ll still do what it’s supposed to do. In a bit she orders and other one and I get a beer. I just wanted an ice cold Corona to wash the foul taste of the poorly made martini that I just drained.

I tell her I know another place a block away that is nice, cool, and up off the street. When we finish our drinks she compliments me on my 4:30 choice but agrees we should try the other place. She insists on paying the bill. (Am I falling in love?)

We head to the elevator and she’s rubbing my back. We get in and we’re the only ones in there and we kiss. It’s a sweet stolen moment that belongs only to us.

We walk over to 17th and Sansom. Davios Italian Restaurant is on the 2nd floor connected to the Club Quarters. It’s a slow Monday night. Big Chuck and Cort are on the stick so we should be in good shape. She gets a vodka cranberry and I go with another martini. This time it’s the right pour, and it’s clean and cold with tiny flecks of ice in it. Just the way I like it.

It’s summer now, so it’s quiet at Davio’s on Mondays. I know the staff doesn’t like it, But I do. We chat with Big Chuck and he’s always charming and funny. He brings out the  brochette, fries and olives for us to munch on for free. They used to give out free pizza, but they don’t anymore. We decide to just hang for the one drink, and then head down to Square next door for the hook up.

I introduce her to Roman, and tell her who he is and who he is to me.

Ambria had a few vodka cranberries and I was sipping oceans of chardonnays. She wanted to go to the ladies room and I knew she wouldn’t be able to find it so I told her I’d take her upstairs and show her where it was.

As soon as we got up there we started making out like a couple of teenagers. It was glorious. I really like Ambria.

We hung there for a few hours. Sipping our drinks, laughing and chatting. There was some hand holding and some gentle caressing. But we were at my bar so we tried to be discreet. There was another trip upstairs for more private necking.

The bill comes and it’s the usual super low amount. I love Roman. He’s my favorite bartender in the city. She hands me some money towards the check. Ambria’s great.

When we were tired I called her an UBER.

Before she got in the car she said, “Who are you?”

I’m assuming she said that because she can’t believe how well we’ve connected. The car disappears into the night. She blows me a final kiss to send me home.

I text her some movie possibilities she may be interested in.

“Check it out, dear.” I text.

“Okay my love….” was her reply.

Yea. She said that.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am & 12pm EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly                                Facebook: phicklephilly

Sun Stories: Aishah – The Wages of Fear – Chapter 1

The tale of one woman’s paralyzing fear and how it became the greatest Sun Story ever told.

A new client came in recently. She goes to Temple University. We have so many Temple girls that come here. Aishah told me that she’s studying pre law. I’m pretty sure she’s a freshman, because she’s only 18 years of age.

She’s absolutely beautiful. Tall and slender. Model pretty with dark eyes, raven tresses and caramel skin. She tells me her father’s white, and her mother’s black and Pakistani. Apparently that’s a winning combination, because this child hit the genetic lottery.

She’s very sweet to chat with and I like her immediately. She buys a 5 pack of tanning sessions and I also sell her a bottle of bronzing lotion and a pair of protective eyewear. So she’s got everything she need to get tan!

She tells me that she just wants to get a little darker for her vacation to Costa Rica in a couple of weeks. She says despite her genealogy, she can still burn. I agree with her and ask her if she wants a stand up or a horizontal bed.

She strongly rejects the stand up and I show her to one of the lay down beds. I show her back to room 7 and explain the different aspects of the bed.

“400 watts in the face tanners, more UV A light than B to brown the face not burn it. 160 watts in the tubes. More UV B rays. The fan button’s here. You’ve got great melanin do you want to do the full 12 minute session?”

“Yes, please.”

“Okay, I put 5 minutes on the room for you to get ready and prepare and if you’re ready sooner, just hit the Start button and pull this hood down.”

Aishah grimaces slightly at the formidable machine before her. I step out of the room. “Okay, go to it Aishah. Thank you for choosing Sun Tanning Studios.”

I go back up to the counter and activate the timer for the bed.

I just go about my business around the salon. Five minutes later I hear the bed light and the fans running.

Then about half way through her session I see an abundant amount of UV light coming from her room. (They have 7 foot high walls but no ceilings. It’s to better circulate the air around the salon and cool the beds faster. So any difference in brightness you can see more light shining up out of the room than usual. (Normally means the hood of the bed has been opened mid session.)

I walk down the hall to room 7. I look up. Tons of light coming out of the room. I don’t know why the bed is opened because she’s only about half way through her session. I don’t care what the clients do in the rooms as long as they don’t break anything, but if you want really good results you keep the lid closed for the entire session.

I’m not going to say anything, and besides I’m busy doing other things in the salon to worry about it. Doing laundry, waiting on other clients, and cleaning.

When the 12 minutes are up, Aishah emerges from the room. She gives me a smile and thanks me. “See you soon!” Then off she goes.

Of course I google her and stalk her Facebook and Instagram. They are both pretty much private, but I can tell from a pic on her Facebook she’s done some modeling. She’s built perfect for modeling. I see she’s currently in a relationship. (boo hoo! Yea, like I have a chance!)

Next time she comes in I’ll have to ask her about why she’s not closing the beds properly  during her tanning session.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am &12pm EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly                                 Facebook: phicklephilly

Ambria – Chapter 6 – Top Secret

Went on my third date with Ambria today. Normally your typical date lasts a couple of hours and off you go. Well not with this one.

She’s off on Mondays and Tuesdays so I planned a lunch date with her for Monday. I thought the usual Monday move of Cavanaugh’s Rittenhouse, because it’s half off cheesesteak day. But I changed my mind, and thought I should take her somewhere else a little more interesting. I know she goes on the restaurant’s website and checks out the menu and Cavanaugh’s is just simple bar food and sandwiches. I need to take her somewhere with a little more flair. I change the venue to Devil’s Alley. I let her know that morning and she replies in text that the food looks good. So I’ve made a good choice.

Devil’s Alley has sumptuous southern cuisine. The dining room on the main floor is spacious, and they can open the front  in nice weather. There is a bar upstairs and more tables near the front. They can also open that in nice weather. The rest of the floor is a long row of two tops along the wall all the way to the back where they have one big long banquet table. I hear the owner is a tyrant, but the food is always consistently delicious and the serving staff and bartenders are always really nice.

I had been running around right before that, and arrive at 12:45 and snag a quiet table upstairs. She’s in touch and tells me she’s getting off the train and is on her way over to the restaurant.

Instead of being 45 minutes late like last Wednesday night (I know, nurse stuff. All is forgiven) She comes up the steps and back to my table. I stand and give her a hug and a peck on the cheek. We sit and I look at my phone. 12:59. Well done Ambria. You made it.

The server, CJ comes over and is great. Sweet guy with good energy. Twenties. Probably working his way through college. I know what we must order first. The spicy dry rub wings. It’s six delicious morsels of amazingness. Ambria has to try these bad boys. They’re like nothing else in the city.

She orders the Satan’s Cooler. This is a crisp vodka driven cocktail with hints of fruit. I order a Diet Coke. It’s her day off, so it’s like her Saturday. It’s my real Monday and it’s a bit early for me to start hitting the sauce. She doesn’t know it yet, but I plan on spending some time with this lady today. Let’s see what happens. I said I wanted to get to know her better, and putting in solid time with her we can learn quite a bit.

She loves the spicy wings as I knew she would. Everybody I bring here loves them. When my friend Duncan comes to visit, he always gets two orders of them… and he lives in the South! They’re consistently that good.

She follows that up with the B.L.T and I hit the pulled pork sandwich, which is always good. Normally I go with a little hot sauce on the side, but I’m on a date, and I don’t want to be running to the bathroom and then coming back with tears in my eyes later.

Our lovely lunch lasts until 2:30, which is good. Hour and a half. Service was great and so was the food and especially the company. I have such good rapport with this girl.

We split the bill down the middle and head outside. It’s spitting a little still, but it’s not bad. She asks what we’re doing now, and I tell her I have some ideas. She asks if we can just walk a bit. She starts to realize we’re going to hang out some more. That was my plan all along. I tell her I know a spot where we can chill out until the rain subsides.

I take her over to Sofitel. She’s never been there. The Liberte Lounge is such a chill spot. I like hanging out there whether it’s at the bar or the lounge. We both realize how chilly it is in there. I think other people notice it as well. We move up to a pair of seats by the front windows so we can people watch.

This very nice French gentleman comes over and asks if we’d like something to drink. It’s 3pm so technically I should be good to go. We ask to see drink menus but I know I want a glass of chardonnay with a side of ice. She goes with the rose. We sit and chat and sip those two glasses for over two hours. That is highly irregular for me. I can drink oceans of chardonnay in no time flat. But it’s a lovely segue to happy hour. We’re in a different state of mind than last Wednesday. She was late, and stressed from work and wanted a pitcher of margaritas.  I was down for that, but today is just gently unrolling before us.

After about an hour of sipping our single glasses of wine, (Which she insists on paying for) we head across the street to Square 1682. My boy Roman is working the bar so the hook up will be happening. Ambria can’t believe I’m getting the hook up, but I tell her I’ve been coming here for a long time and it’s a good deal for everybody.

But after one drink we decide to go over to Dan Dan to see my buddy Chet and get some chicken pot stickers and whatever else she wants. I would have stayed at Square, but for some reason my Spider Sense was tingling and I just wanted to get out of there for some reason. Like I was going to run into someone I didn’t want to run into.

So I pay the bill and we walk a block over to 16th street to Dan Dan. It’s a great little spot and my buddy Chet is always good for keeping happy hour going for me anytime I go there. We get the pot stickers and some drinks.

This has been a lovely day with this lady. She’s sweet and funny, and I love the sound of her voice. It’s soft and warm. Just like her. I can’t believe my good fortune. Lightning has struck and it’s beautiful.

We stay for a bit and then it’s time for her to go home. I’m tired too after our nine hour date. It’s been glorious.

We kiss a bit while waiting for her UBER. It’s like our lips were made for each other. The car comes and off she goes until next time. I’m glad we’re taking it slow and dating each other. I can feel the pressure building in her. The desire rising to the surface.

Soon.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am & 12pm EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly

Cheyanne – Who’s The Plug?

I met up with my lovely friend, Cheyanne at Davio’s at 17th and Sansom Street recently. The day is hot. Davio’s is on the 2nd floor of the Club Quarters. It’s nice and cool in the restaurant and it’s nice to be up off the street. Feels a little more exclusive.

Cheyanne is a brilliant business woman, life coach and motivator of people. She has a good mind when it comes to people and relationships. Whenever she’s in town for appointments with clients, if she can, she’ll squeeze me in for a drink or two.

We’re sitting at the bar. I’m sipping an ice cold martini and she’s having a glass of wine.

“Let me run a scenario by you, Cheyanne.”

“Sure.”

I place the plug to my phone charger on the bar. “This is the woman. Then I place my phone to the right of the plug. “This is the guy.”

“Okay.”

“There’s a woman I know who’s in a relationship with this guy. She sees him a few times a month, but sometimes less.”

“Why so little time together?”

“She works a lot, works weird hours, and is very busy with that.”

“What about the guy?”

“He lives about an hour away and works at two different jobs.”

“How long have they been together?”

“About a year.”

“Any problems?”

“Apparently none that has ever been mentioned.”

“So what’s the question?”

I pull out a pen from the pocket of my blazer and place it to the left of the plug.

“Who’s that supposed to be?”

“The pen is another man she met recently.”

“Oh…”

“Plug girl still loves phone guy very much and is happy with him.”

“Then why is she dating pen guy?”

“They just met up one day and there was chemistry.”

“Does phone know about pen and vice versa?”

“No. She says she likes them equally but for different reasons.”

“I see.”

“So what do you think is going on there?”

“Well she’s obviously not getting enough attention from phone guy. Regardless if she likes them equally, she’s not being honest with them or herself.”

“How so? She’s not hurting anyone. She’s just enjoying the company of both of these men.”

“Is she having sex with both of them?”

“Phone guy obviously, but it seems inevitable with Pen guy.”

“If she’s seeing both of them then and neither of them know about each other than she’s never giving all of herself to either guy.”

“But why does anyone have to give their all to anyone. Couldn’t she simply enjoy both of them and when the one is around give him her all and when the other one is present do the same?”

“No, because she’s living a double life and not being truthful with either of them. She’s cheating on both of them and they think they’re in an exclusive relationship with her and their not.”

“But why can’t she simply like them both and spend time with them both and sleep with both of them if she cares for them equally?”

“Because the guys think she’s their girlfriend, and she’s not being truthful about what either relationship really is. She’s living a lie.”

“Okay… Well thank you for that. I’ll explain that to her when I see her.”

“I have to get to my next appointment. It’s been great seeing you as always.”

‘Yea, you’re awesome, Cheyanne.”

She starts to walk out the door, when she suddenly turns to me.

“You’re the plug aren’t you?”

“Goddammit.”

(The plug is me. and the girls are Cherie and Ambria)

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am  & 12 pm EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly                                        Facebook: phicklephilly

Cherie – Chapter 37 – Four to Eight – Part Two

Cherie talked to her sister about bringing me to Thanksgiving. That’s a world away, but I want to go. Cherie says not the full family, because she doesn’t want to drive me away, but I’m fine with whatever. I love her and I’ll bite that apple and be glorious and charming. (As long as her retired Navy officer dad is cool with an older white guy loving his hot daughter)

I think he’ll be happy that she has chosen well and I’m good to her.

We leave Mix and walk back to the house.

We get to the bat cave and we go back to my bedroom. She notices that since the last time she was here she said she like Twix an York Peppermint Patties. I now have them in a little basket on her side of the bed.

Guys, It’s these little things you have to do to let your lady know you listen to her and love her. If there is a little thing she loves, Do it!

It’s a big deal to them. It’s a little bag of candy. It’s a coffee. Do it. Huge payoff. She’ll know you heard her and made a special trip to the store to please her. She may not even partake in the gift, but the fact that you heard her and made a special trip to the store to get her something she likes goes a long away.

That’s tiny romance, with a huge payoff, lads.

I got baby until tomorrow, so I’m taking my time. Hanging in bed with her, and chatting. I’m trying to be good, but I want her. But there is plenty of time. We’ve got all night. I’m just happy to be holding her and kissing her sweet lips.

I joke that she always says that because our time is so limited that she always ends up “nekkid on her back” I want to just hang with her for a bit and chat.

Cherie says that she wants me to take her jeans off and get down to business.

I’m always compliant.

And so is Cherie.

So magic ensues. It’s always amazing. That’s the only way I can describe it. I love her. I devour her. I am honored to worship at the temple of Cherie. She’s beautiful and perfect. There is no real perfection, But our machine runs like a Swiss watch made of flesh.

The window is open. My neighbors get the honor of hearing what it feels like to be alive and in absolute love. This is what real life sounds like. Go ahead. Turn a hose on us.

You all want this.

Everybody wants this ethereal magic. This celebration of the only possession we came into the world with that we choose to share with someone we love.

That’s it. When Joe Perry hits that screaming high note in “Train kept a Rollin’, That’s the moment.

Later, I’m laying back on my bed with my fresh royal blue sheets, and she is ripping into a Twix.

“So I’ll set the alarm for 6:30am tomorrow so we can get up maybe go again and then breakfast at Midtown Diner?”

“What?”

“Yea, we can fool around whenever you choose over the next 10 hours but I’ll get you fed ,and up and out in time for your train tomorrow morning.”

“When I said I had to be on an 8:30 train, I meant tonight.”

“Wait. What?”

“Oh my God. I feel like and asshole.”

“What?”

“I have to leave tonight. I have to be on a train at 8:30 tonight.”

“But usually when you come down you stay the night and you leave the next morning.”

“I know, and I know it’s been three weeks, but I know I could come down here on Sunday just to see for a few hours. That’s why I was wondering why you took me out for pizza. I thought you would just bring me home and fuck me.”

“Aww jeezuss honey. I thought we had all night so I wanted to feed you so you wouldn’t feel like you were just the nekkid girl always on your back lately with me. I know we love that and so do I, but I figured I had some time with you and we could at least share a meal together.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry, I feel like such an asshole.”

“No honey, it’s just a miscommunication. You didn’t know. Remember what we said about assuming? We make an ass of you and me.”

She almost looked like she was starting to cry.

I can’t have that with my beloved Cherie.

This is what makes her the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with.

(Yea, I fuckin’ said that.)

She’s lying naked in bed with me. This gorgeous delicious baby. I adore her and am sometimes dumbfounded that she would even be attracted to a middle-aged white dude that is on the precipice of greatness or failure. (Apparently I carry a bag of charm with me)

“Oh my God, I’m so stupid. I’m so stupid.”

“Honey it’s okay. It’s just a miscommunication. I understand. I just assumed you were staying the night because you said 8:30 train. I just assumed tomorrow morning like always.

“I have to get my kid off to school and then I have to go to school and work.”

She was visually upset. She was so disappointed in herself for failing me I could feel it. It was a visceral moment. It showed me that she felt her confused struggling life had leaked over into our life.

But it hadn’t. I wouldn’t have to take melatonin or sleep meds to sleep because she would pass out after our marathon lovemaking at 8:30pm and I would be wide until midnight. I wouldn’t be reading articles on the internet because I was so wired from our sex and just on a different schedule than this neuroscience major mom.

I reassured her I was fine with the misunderstanding. She was upset. She had felt like she had failed me.

I’ve never experienced this sort of heartfelt charity in a girlfriend.

She can never fail me, because I am so grateful this wonderful woman is in my life.

But she doesn’t understand.

I am so grateful that she has chosen to love me, she can do no wrong.

She sees it as a failure. She loves me and doesn’t want to disappoint me or fail me.

Cherie really loves me. I know it.

I continue to reassure and joke with her.

It’s really okay. I am honored I had the time with her that I had. I love her so much.

I love her more for her critical thinking and heartfelt response.

She’ll go home thinking she failed me, but she hasn’t. She’s actually made it stronger and better, because she cares for me so much she got so upset that she thought she had failed me.

Cherie can’t fail me. Like Michelle couldn’t fail me. I’ve never been angry with either of them.

I can never sustain anger for girl I really and truly love no matter what they do.

If you really love someone, sometimes mistakes just bring you closer.

Can’t wait to see her again to see “Pirates of the Caribbean 5 this weekend!

Ain’t love grand?

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, share, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly Facebook: phicklephilly

Cherie – Chapter 36 – Four to Eight – Part One

So baby’s coming down on Sunday to see me. We both have crazy busy schedules. But we make it work and I like it. I like the distance between the pillars that support the temple of our relationship. I’ve never had that. It’s always been the traditional American bullshit progression that goes nowhere and ends in failure. This actually works really well for me. I love intense bursts of energy with my friends but then I like to be alone for a while. It’s inevitable right now based on where we both are in our lives and it’s working beautifully. I love it.

She says she’ll be down around 4:30pm on Sunday.

Cool.

I get done at the salon at 4. She says she has to be on an 8:30 train back to Pottstown. I’m thinking, perfect. Come down early Sunday, I’ll feed her and give her some dinner, and then tomorrow we’ll get up early, I’ll take her to breakfast and she’ll be on a train back home or to school, and I’ll be writing this blog getting the 1/2 off cheesteak by noon on Monday at my local haunt.

I finish up at the salon, and we meet up on the street after she gets off the train. I take her to Mix Pizza, because I know she loves that place from our early encounters.

We get there and instead of sitting in the back bar, we sit in the main dining room. We order a 12 inch pie that is just enough for the both of us. We’ll murder that tiny pie. She likes extra cheese, and I’m okay with that because she wants that but I know that dairy will fuck with my stomach. But I don’t care. I love her. If that’s what baby wants, that’s fine.

Our waitress is banged up. I don’t mean drunk, I mean it looks like she was in a car accident or is a victim of domestic violence.

We can’t say anything even though I want to so badly. Puffy eye, cuts and bruises on her. I’m feeling sad and concerned. I have three sisters a daughter and a girlfriend. If I know a man raised his hand to my waitress I’ll have a hit put out his worthless ass.

But Cherie tells me to behave. We’ll get our little brick oven fresh pizza and go home.

She brings out not a 12 inch pizza, not the next size up, but the biggest fucking pizza they make with extra cheese. The order is wrong, I’m tired from work and I know I’m going to spend some quality time in the bathroom. But I’m happy to be sitting across from my queen and I’m okay.

I make some jokes to her about why the order is wrong to Cherie and why our server got beat up.

“Because she doesn’t listen.” (Kidding. I feel bad for her. Maybe she just fell off her bicycle.)

“I will kick you so hard under the table your mom will feel it, if you don’t stop.”

I always make jokes when I’m sad or suffering for someone, to ease the tension in my heart, and Cherie knows this but she just wants me to stop.

(I did make a few more. Just to deal with it, and I love to watch her lovely dark almond eyes narrow and tell me to shut up.)

She knows I’m kidding. She knows me and knows I feel for this girl, and hates the fact that she is feeling what she’s feeling from my dark jest.

When I’m scared or sad I always joke to deal with my anxiety, sadness or depression. It’s a combative mechanism to help me deal with life.

We have a nice dinner and she’s happy. I love her braids. I hope they last all summer. Every time I see her, she seems more beautiful to me. She’s already gorgeous, but I am falling deeper in love with her soul. Her spirit. Her voice. Her mind. Her heart.

Cherie is a complex, beautiful human being that has come a long way at her ripe 27 years. I love her sweet calm with me. I love her wise maturity. I love that she is a parent like myself. She’s always struggling with what we all do with work, children and education, but she does it as a woman. My relationship with her has redefined me as an adult. I continue to evolve. She makes me grow as a man. I love that I continue to evolve. My life is changing.

I’m about to open a new business in Rittenhouse. If it’s successful, it will change my life dramatically. It will mean I can do more for my daughter Lorelei and change her life too. I’m beginning to think that sitting at Square 1682 getting cheap drinks and hanging with the same cast of characters is a waste of my talent.

I like these people but I think our time together is a bit of a waste of time. Nice people, but I’m carrying a lot of their water on my ship. I appreciate them.

I do. But I think I am growing out and away from them.

Just evolving as usual. It happens.

I was sitting at the bar the other night at Square and as usual I am loving the bartender Roman. He’s glorious. He is what I need him to be and he knows that. I take care of him. He’s amazing. He’s a husband and a dad and we have a history that is connected.

But I looked to the friend to the right of me and I started to see that I don’t need to do this anymore. The game is changing.

I’m changing.

There’s no value in this anymore. She has positioned herself with someone I no longer speak with and I know is nuts and has hurt my friend Alice.

I look to my left and here is my other friend. A lost confused damaged soul that can’t get out of his own fucking way to do go forward.

What am I doing here?

I was at City Hall today with my business partner getting our permit to open our fitness center.

That’s what I need to focus on. Going forward and building a business.

This happens throughout ones life if you continue to evolve. They come in and visit for a while and then they have to go because you grow beyond them. I think I need to faze them out. I may or may not do that, but I need to withdrawal from their stagnant drama.

I used to be in the public eye all of the time. Blowing up social media constantly. Many people and beautiful women basked in my light and I was just left with the hangover.

It’s okay. I had a great time but I’m getting older and I just can’t carry their weight anymore.

I want to build something.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, share, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am EST.

 

Cherie – Chapter 35 – Jungle Fever

“My heads under water but I’m breathing fine.”

Jungle Fever: “When a non-black person is attracted sexually to black people. Originally it was used for when a white woman dates black men, but now it could refer to a white man who thinks black women are hot and wants to date them.”

A Stevie Wonder song about black man/white woman love.

“She’s gon’ black guy crazy
He’s gone white girl hazy
They got jungle fever”–Stevie Wonder.
It’s been nearly a month and I’m going crazy. I miss her. She’s so beautiful and sweet. She’s an absolute pleasure to be with. A calm, loving, grateful, sexual, amazing woman. I haven’t seen her in three weeks.
She is crushing it in her life. Finals at Temple destroying her life just like all of the other girls at that damn school. Raising her son, working at CHOP as a medical assistant and the pediatrician’s office and everything else she’s dealing with.
She told me today that she got a flat tire on her Saab. That’s horrible but she said as bad as her life is, she says it could be worse. I like that because that is how I live my life, with positivity. Cherie is my sweet match.
I love her optimism. Maybe she got that from me but it doesn’t matter,  I just want her to be okay.
I’ll see her tomorrow at 4pm after a long hiatus.
 Sometimes I think she’ll just give up. Far away. Distant factor. Right side of thirty. Beautiful black girl.  Me… white guy in his mid fifties.
I’m prepared for her to bail. I’m writing this now in my home office, listening to the band Morphine and thinking she should just bail on me. Distance. Time. Age difference. She’ll just decide  it’s too difficult and I’ll be dead in the water.
Again.
She’s young and beautiful like Michelle and Annabelle and she’ll just wise up and just go.
I think about that on a weekly basis. That’s a real thing when you’re a middle-aged bachelor.
It feels like love and mad sex but it all could end if at 27 she wants a husband and more kids. You’re done. I’m dead. I’m alone. I have to start again. Or not. I say that she was the last one and it was great, but I’m finished. I’m out. I’ve punched all of the holes in my romance card, an it’s over.
If this one fails. I think I’m done.
That’s a real thing for guys my age.
But I’m not like guys my age. They’re scared and insecure without game. I’ve worked hard to build game. But that could also be my undoing.
Men my age try to surround themselves with affluent things that mean nothing.
Cars, gadgets, shoes, suits, watches, lifestyle. It’s all bullshit. Just build the powerful you to move forward with nothing but your own powers and the women will notice. Most men can’t do this.
But you have to practice guys. Get to know women. They’re great. Talk to them. Listen. Love them. Let go of whatever you were taught and just get to know them.
I’m having brunch on this rainy Saturday with my dear friend Alice who blew me off for drinks and quizzo last Wednesday. I love Alice. But the weather sucks. I would love to take her to the craft show in Rittenhouse Square this weekend. But the weather could take a dump on our plans.
It’ll happen because she’ll feel bad that she blew me off so she’ll do it. But I don’t even care because I love her (as a friend) and I want her to do well in her business.
All I need to do is get Cherie at 4pm and make sweet love to her.
That’s it.
I have a giant umbrella for me and Alice for the craft show but all I want to do is get Cherie at the train station and take her home and tear her to pieces.
My time with Alice is important. I love hanging with her. But I need to get to Cherie.
That’s the magical time.
That’s the time that everyone in the world wants.
That’s the time that everyone envys.
That’s the time that everyone regrets.
That’s the time everyone wishes they had again with their current partner.
That’s the time that you only get once but wish you could have again and again.
I’m not wrong. You all want that. What if you could have that again and again just as good as the first time? That would be the perfect drug for us all right? Can you have her or him again and again and it always feels like the first time? That shit’s magic.
That’s my life. Cherie and I built that together. I’m lost in that.
We’re always wishing for the first date. The euphoria. The excitement. Then they’re gone.
But this time she stays.
But also stays away. Just far enough to love her. And it works. Its magic together, but I’m alone. I like that. She’s busy and can’t be with me. I’m okay with that. I like it. She’s a nymphomaniac and I  love that.
It’s not all of the time. I need my alone time. She’s busy with school and life. So am I…  busy building a business. I have finally found a balance that works for me.
intense.
I love you, Cherie.
See you soon.
Magic again.
Watch this video please. Cut and paste if you can.
 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=450p7goxZqg

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day 8am & 12pm EST.

 

Facebook: phicklephilly       Instagram: @phicklephilly     Twitter: @phicklephilly