Bailey – Chapter 5 – New Years Day

If I had to pay bar prices every time I went out I’d have to sell a kidney.

Bailey and I had planned on our second date to go to the movies on New Years Day. She said she had to check in with family but would let me know for sure the next day. So if she wanted to bail then she could simply tell me she had obligations on that day. Then we could set it up for another time.

But she got back to me the next morning with a solid confirmation that she was good to go for an afternoon matinée. I send her a link to the Ritz theaters over the weekend so she can look at the lists of films currently playing in those theaters.

She gets back to me in a little while and wants to see I, Tonya, the dark comedic film about fallen ice skater Tonya Harding. That sounds awesome. That’s the one I wanted to see too. We locked that decision down Saturday and I send her a calendar invite. Bailey accepted it immediately. The 2pm show at the Ritz at the Bourse building.

As time went by after our last date at Gran Cafe L’Aquila, I was feeling less amorous about Bailey. But I thought it would be something to do on my day off. I don’t get many days off and it would be fun to sit in a theater on a bitter cold day and watch a movie. The huge presence in the dark, the buttery popcorn, M&M Peanuts and a soda. Can’t beat it. Maybe it wouldn’t cost me and arm and a leg. But it probably will. If she wants to get drinks and food after the show it’ll bankrupt me. (Kidding, but I stopped doing this kind of dating a year ago. Why am I such a sucker for young, fit women?)

Sunday I worked and closed the salon at 4pm. My buddy Church came down and we went to Marathon for dinner. It was glorious. It was so good I wrote a solid Yelp review for them the next day. Just a low-key New Years Eve with a dear friend of mine. He even brought me a space heater to keep my daughter Lorelei a little warmer in our drafty old Rittenhouse apartment. The holidays have really been busy and fun this year.

The next morning I get to sleep in because it’s New Years Day and my first day off in over three weeks. I’m lying in bed just snuggled down and reading stuff on my phone. I’m also tackling major life decisions like; I could get up around noon and shower and be ready by 12:45. Walk from 18th and Pine to 5th and Market in the Arctic temperatures, and get to the Bourse before the 2pm show at the Ritz.

Around 11am I get this text:

“Hey Charlie Happy New Year. I have some miserable news. Please don’t hate me. Over the past 48 hours I went from sore throat to a full throttle cold. I can barely breathe and I’m sweating like crazy. I hate cancelling, can we reschedule for later this week?”

“Oh my gosh! Of course. Get some rest.”

“Ok. Thank you. I will.”

 

Are you folks thinking what I’m thinking? Yea. New Years Day Hangover. She’s 28 years old. She went out last night with her friends and got hammered like every other 28-year-old in this city.

I text my friend Karina. “Are you guys open today?”

“Yes! but I won’t be there until 5.”

“Cool. Thanks!”

I shower up, get bundled up. Grab my laptop and head to Cavanaugh’s. Normally on a Monday they have the 1/2 off Cheesesteaks, it’s quiet and I get great service from Karina.

I get there and it’s packed. No one is eating. Everyone is drinking. I hate New Years. I go downstairs and the music is playing too loud and it’s busy down there as well. What did I expect it’s fucking New Years Day! Who can drink like this? It’s gross. Who wants to be shit faced by 4?

I know the bartender downstairs. She’s nice and I tell her I’m going to stay. She proceeds to tell me that there is no 1/2 off cheesesteaks today because of the holiday. They don’t need to run any specials when the place is mobbed. Fuck Me! I hate drunken crowds but I’m going to grin and bear it. I order my food and everything’s on point. I just have to get my armor on and the rest of the day will be great. I think I’m the only guy in here with his laptop open and actually dining.

It was a stressful meal but delicious all the same. I throw the bartender $17 in cash and I’m out the door with my gear. I walk the two blocks east on Sansom Street to the Hotel Palomar. Into my favorite hotel bar, Square 1682. It’s quiet, warm, bright and I’m happy. I get a water and a glass of chardonnay with a side of ice. It’s about 3:30 by now so it’s okay if I have a glass of wine before 5pm on New Years Day.

There’s a girl behind the bar that I don’t know. She must work the shifts when I don’t come here. My man Roman (See: Roman – Rock n’ Roll Bartender) will be in shortly. I nurse the single chardonnay for nearly an hour. I’m happily typing away about Bailey and our second date. Funny… I’m writing about our second date on what was to be our third date.

I love this bar. My most beloved in the city because I have so many great memories with so many great and crazy people. Of course without Roman, the whole thing falls apart, because he’s the connection.

I typed away and Roman took over. Now it’s a party. Over the next couple hours I plowed through 5 glasses of wine, wrote 3 new blog posts, met a lovely group of people from Maryland, and even charged up one of their phones. They were feeling no pain when they arrived and continued drinking at Square. They were going to go to El Vez for dinner and then hit the dive bar, McGlinchey’s. They just want a bar they can smoke in, but I warned them that the place is a bit banged up.

I’m having a lovely day. I like being the guy at the bar getting all of the attention. The people leave, and I’ve had enough. I get the bill and it is a stunning $5.50. I tip another $5 on the card and place another $20 in cash in the book. Roman is simply my favorite bartender in the city. Maybe the world.

I pack up my gear and walked home in the bitter cold. I don’t mind. I’m well bundled.

I get home at the end of the first day of the new year with a smile on my face. My daughter follows shortly after and we’re happy to be home.

Around 8pm I get a text from Bailey. “Hey. How was your day? I’ve been sedated most of the day.”

I don’t get back to her. She needs to know I’m too busy to get back to her.

The next day I’m at the salon and I return her text. “I had a great day! Hope you’re feeling better.”

She gets right back to me. “I am. Thank you.”

And that’s it.

I did stalk her on social media (Facebook) to see what she’s been up to. Surprisingly, she does make mention of catching a cold and being sick.

I’m going to do nothing at this point. If she wants to see me again, she’s going to have to reach out to me now. She’s going to have to offer availability and yield to my schedule.

Sorry Bailey, I see why you’re alone at 28. You had an opportunity for something wonderful and you just don’t get it. The second date was what really drove it home for me.

So we’ll see what happens…

 

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Bailey – Chapter 3 – Second Date – Part 1

Eating a flight of gelato at Gran cafe L’Aquila is like listening to a Beatles album. Every song makes you feel different.

I have been texting Bailey and things seem to be going well. Her birthday is the day after Christmas so we decide to meet up for drinks at 8:30pm Wednesday night. The day after her birthday. Based on our first date I wanted to step up my game and wow her with something unique. I tell her to meet me at Gran Cafe L’Aquila. I figured at 8:30 at night we’d have some wine, maybe a little snack and of course… a flight of their amazing gelato! World class. The best I’ve ever tasted. If you want to impress a lady, take her there.

I close up the salon and head over. The city is beautiful during the holidays. I get there and the place is swinging because it’s the week between Christmas and New Years.

There are only two seats at the bar and it’s tight. I love this place though. They have a lively staff that are all very Italian and everything about the restaurant looks authentic.

Bailey texts me that she’s 5 minutes away. I order a chardonnay. My go-to beverage when I go out. The holidays have been great this year. Between work and events, I’ve had something going on every night this week!

Bailey rolls in and we hug. It’s nice to see her again. I help her off with her coat and we clamber into our seats. She orders something bubbly.

The bartender asks if we’re having food, and I think maybe calamari. Just a snack and then later I’ll blow her mind with the gelato flight.

They give us a menu and she’s perusing it. The first page is always what they’re featuring from a region in Italy. The other two pages is everything else they serve on a daily basis. The other 10 pages is all wine, cocktails and dessert. It’s like a book!

“I’m hungry!”

I don’t like the sound of that. Nine o’clock at night is snack, wine and gelato. That’s it. But now we have an issue. But its date number two and her birthday yesterday, and it’s the fucking holidays, so I’m going to take one for the team.

My girlfriend is black, but this is classic black girl behavior. Bailey is a light-skinned black so she must be some kind of mix, but this is a lot of what they do. You all know I’m not racist. I love all women. I have all their albums. Huge fan. I’ve had three black girlfriends. I love every flavor that God can make of girls. I truly do. But black chicks will eat as much as they possibly can if it’s free. I’ll tell you where this comes from. Black people have been oppressed by everyone for hundreds of years. They never got anything and were treated like shit for centuries. But unfortunately once they’ve been somewhat accepted into white society and the workplace they get all they can. They don’t even know they’re doing it. It’s just a need, because they never know if it’s going to happen again. Maybe this could be the last time it ever happens.

Every time I’ve been at an event or a meeting and there’s black women there, they all sit together and devour as much food as they can. I know I’m not the first white person to notice this.  But in this day and age everybody is so scared to say anything. But, again… my girlfriend is black and I love her dearly. She’s the sweetest loyal lady. I’m the piece of shit going out on dates with other women because Cherie is never around. But black girls do this thing when it comes to food. It’s a shame really. I’ve seen this for decades. If there’s free food around they will consume it all because they don’t know when it will happen again.

They get knocked up by some loser, have a kid, guy leaves, and she ends up living at her parents and they help raise the kid. This happens over and over. Even my girlfriend’s sister had two kids that are being raised by the grandparents. This is a cycle in the black community. That bitch met a new guy and has gotten pregnant again. Is she going to raise this new one? She’s not even married. Oh, you can’t raise the two rugrats you have and you got knocked up again? What are you insane? These are human beings! How can you be so reckless with your family?

Black women are amazing and have to put up with a mountain of shit in their lives. Just being born black in this country is a setback. I’m blessed to have been born into the family I was and they were somewhat normal. We all have our crosses to bear. But I know what this little encounter is going to turn into.

I remember Bailey telling me about issues with her mother. I haven’t heard too much about dad. But come on… both nostrils pierced, the septum, and the Medusa. Oh, and the tattoos. You’re screaming for someone to look at you and please pay attention to you. I’ve met dozens of you. In all races, shapes and sizes, dear.

Bailey suggests we get a table. Fuck. I can already feel the wetness from my debit card leaking tears into my back pocket. I talk to the bartender and he sets it up.

We head upstairs and get a table. They check our coats and give me tickets. Bailey isn’t accustomed to this level of service and hospitality. This is a first rate joint.

She takes forever with the menu. That’s okay. When I brought Kita here she did the same things. I forget girls in their twenties are overwhelmed by monster menus at fine eateries.

I already know what I want. I get the same thing every time I come here. Grilled half chicken, rosemary potato wedges and asparagus. Done. I’m just sipping and waiting at this point.

There’s two families across from us with cranky babies. I want to toss those little fuckers over the balcony. But I’m a parent and I have restraint. I hate my friend Marigold’s kids and my friend Rob and Laura’s kid but I don’t have to raise them. I only have to see them once a year and that’s enough! I did a good job with my daughter Lorelei and she’s turned out lovely. You have one shot. Be a fucking parent. Put yourself aside and do a better job than your parents. Take the best of what they did and do better and be firm and gentle. It’s not that hard. Be patient and love them. They’re children! They’re like puppies, train them and break them in!

Baliey finally settles on a dish and we’re good. Conversation is good and she looks great. She’s all in black and looking cute.

The server, Karina comes back and takes our order. But before she does that, she asks if we want an appetizer. (As a sales guy I love the upsell, but don’t pull that fucking shit on me with this hungry girl) Of course Bailey wants a fucking appetizer now. (Goddammit!)

“Oh… yea.. lets get the mozzerella plate shrimp thing.”

I’m not going to touch that shit. It’s 9:30 at night. I just wanted a light snack and now I’m fucked for a full blown dinner here.

Appetizer comes out and Baliey rips into it. I never touch it. She devours most of it and when the dinners come out Karina asks to take it away and Bailey keeps it. She’s going to kill any food that comes to this table. That’s her personal goal. Just like at Dan Dan Christmas eve. She devoured everything.

I get it now.

Dinner was nice. I actually cut a piece of my amazing chicken off and give her the first taste from my fork. (I haven’t had a bite yet, but I want her to taste first because I’m a gentleman.) Bailey assures me she’s okay with germs but I wanted her to try it first off a clean fork. She loves it of course. Yea, it’s great grilled chicken under a hot stone. I knew she’d love it.

To be Continued Tomorrow…

 

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Bailey – Chapter 2 – Twas the Night Before Christmas…

I confirm with Bailey that we are still on for 3:30. I think it’s cool to be meeting a girl for the first time on Christmas Eve. Just something romantic about that.

I close up the salon around 3pm that Sunday. I figure I’ll head over to Dan Dan early. It’s a cute Asian bar/restaurant around the corner from the salon. I walk over and figure I’ll get there early for a pre-game glass of wine to take the edge off. I’m looking forward to meeting Bailey. I go in. She’s already at the bar. Wow, a girl that’s early. I like that.

I greet her and she looks cute. We shake hands and decide to move to a quiet corner of the bar near the wall. It’s cold out and I don’t want her to be chilled every time someone comes through the door.

There is some woman working the bar not my buddy. I ask where he is, and she says he doesn’t work Sundays. I order a chardonnay and she the Pinot Grigio. We start chatting. I review some points on her profile that I really liked. The banter is going well. I notice on several instances that she is touching me. That’s a good sign. If a woman touches you, she definitely likes you.

This is good.

We order a bowl of their famous noodles. It’s big enough to split. She forgoes the chopsticks for a fork. I think our date is going well. I love meeting a new girl on Christmas Eve!

We exchange stories and she’s loving the noodles. Surprisingly my buddy Nate shows up and he’s here to work. I’ve known him for years and I always usually follow him to wherever he’s tending bar. He comes over and greets me by name. This always makes me look good to whomever I’m with. It’s good to know people in the hospitality industry.  When you go to wherever you know people you get the hook up. Men define themselves normally by what they do. Women on the other hand define themselves by who they know. I know so many people around the city, it wields power when you’re out on a date. It makes her feel she’s with a man of substance and importance in his surroundings.

I eat come of the noodles but Bailey pretty much polishes them off. She must have really loved them! She also appears to want something else. I hand her the menu and she goes with the shrimp pot stickers. I normally go with the pork but let the lady have what she wants.

She orders another glass of wine and I do the same. The pot stickers come out and Bailey rips into them. I’m good with what I’ve had and doing just fine with my wine.

We’ve been here for about two hours. It’s a solid first date. I tell her I’m ready to wrap it up and she has to go pick up some gift cards and visit her grandmother. I think that’s sweet and she calls for an UBER.

I pay the bill. It’s not bad. it’s the holidays and I asked her to come here. She doesn’t live in the city so she did all the traveling and I want to pay. Maybe Bailey can be my new affair.

I settle up and we go outside. I thank her for a lovely evening. I want to see her again. We agree to meet up again and go on another date. I have an idea and I tell her I’ll be texting her. The car arrives, we hug and she’s off.

I later get a text from her thanking me for the evening and that she is home safe.

So maybe I’ve got a new fun girl to hang with but only time will tell.

 

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Bailey – Chapter 1 – From Texting to Connecting

I matched with Bailey on OkCupid. Let’s take a look at her profile.

Bailey

27 – Philadelphia, PA

Straight, Bisexual, Heteroflexible, Sapiosexual, Woman, Single, 5’5″ Thin

My Self Summary

So apparently OkCupid decided to delete all of my content on my fucking profile. I had a bunch of witty things written here. Oh well… I’m a spoken word artist. Honest, raw, blunt, cynical, funny, frugal, practical, logical, nurturing, attentive, catering, independent, passionate, no nonsense. I was originally looking for a life partner but this website doesn’t offer those so let’s just hang. Not here for sex unless we actually go together. I’m old fashioned. If you have kinky anywhere on your profile, buzz off.

What I’m doing with my life

Working at an insurance company and retail job, volunteering and performing as a a spoken word artist. Also, I’m a really nice, gentle person. You just can’t tell from this profile.

I’m really good at:

Being funny in a super corny way. Talking to myself in public. Word play.

The first thing people notice about me

My facial piercings. Especially my Medusa.

Food: Soul food and Chinese. But I legit will eat almost anything. Every guy I meet is some craft beer snob. I’ll take a sip for the sake of feigning open-mindedness. But THE SHIT IS NASTY, OK? I like cheap ass wine and Seagram’s wine coolers. The girly jams. That’s it.

Six things I can’t live without

This list is ever changing…

Poetry, Grandma, Music, Curse words/SAT words, This asshole cell phone, Google maps

I spend a lot of time thinking about

Finding my happy place. Black lives matter. Trump is a cunt.

On a typical Friday night I am

At a social or artistic event

The most private thing I’m willing to admit

I spontaneously cry during cute commercials

You should message me if

You are drama free, baggage free, looking for something real, ***own a car*** (I’m not a chauffer) and want to connect in person quickly.

You eat sleep and breathe art

You like a nice firm cuddle.

You smell like sunshine and rainbows

You acknowledge that I’m not crazy. I’m quirky. Big Diff.

It bothers you that I didn’t put a period after rainbows.

 

That’s Bailey’s profile.

I like her. 27 years old. As we all know here at phicklephilly that’s my sweet spot. They are all looking for daddy and then want to get married and have kids. Then it’s over. That’s okay. I love meeting them and offering what wisdom I can. At this point since I’m long divorced and Lorelei lives with me I am beyond all of that. I may marry again. But she will be a doctor that will take care of my sorry ass and love me forever.

But for now, I want to meet quirky pierced “Fell asleep face down into a tackle box” baby. She’s going to turn 28 the day after Christmas. No problem meeting and old goat so I’m going to bring in the ’67 Pontiac GTO game I always do. Let’s see what happens. The blog won’t write itself, and the art is all.

Can’t wait to meet Bailey. She seems really nice. In her profile she says she’s thin. That could mean nice legs.

Let’s go with that.

I decide to write the first text on OkCupid.  She’s unique so I need to go with something original in my approach. Then I remember she likes “Dad Jokes” So I open with the following:

Waiter: Careful these plates are hot. Me: That’s okay, I’m not really attracted to plates.

She responds. “Gems. I knew you’d have some.”

“Hi Bailey. I loved your profile and you seem absolutely fascinating.”

“Thank you and likewise. I have a special place in my heart for comedians.”

“Me too. I’ve done stand up in the past and it’s terrifying and hilarious. Please tell me more about your spoken word art.”

“I’ve been writing and performing poetry since middle school as well as singing and acting. After high school I stopped performing for years until last year. Now I attend 2 open mics a week and occasionally book paid gigs. It’s my favorite thing in the world. It has brought be a lot of friendships and happiness.”

“That’s awesome! Let’s meet up for lunch one day. What days/times are good for you?”

“Tomorrow I’m available until 6pm. Sunday I have open availability as well.”

“Tomorrow I’m out-of-town. I could meet you after 4pm on Sunday.”

“Okay, that works for me!”

“Wonderful. I’ll find a place to meet up!”

(I provide my phone number)

So we switch over to texting and I’m feeling a good vibe. I think I like this quirky girl. I set up our first date for noodles and snacks at Dan Dan, the sechuen restuarant where my buddy Nate works as a bartender. She likes the idea and I’m going to meet her there Sunday!

So we’ll see what happens.

 

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Cherie – Chapter 53 – Why I’ll Never Marry a Black Man

“Black women and white men aren’t the only diverse duo out there, but it’s something to chat about if you’ve ever been in that type of relationship.”

Aside from the historical separation of black people and white people, there are a few barriers you should get out of the way in the present.

Words from Cherie herself.

I’m never going to marry a black man…

Why would I want to? Why would I commit myself to a lifetime of disappointment and misery? I don’t need a man to ruin my life; I can do that on my own without his help and with much less drama.

I’ve made up my mind to marry a white man because life is too short for you to live it hoping that you’ll find that one in a hundred black men who will be true to his word and won’t turn out to be a deadbeat.

White men are simple. They don’t have mothers from hell who expect you to visit their house so you can cook, clean, kneel and kiss their feet. They have boundaries and understand that marriage means a man leaves his father and mother and becomes one with his wife. Black mothers think marriage means a woman leaves her mother and father and becomes drafted into the family as an indentured slave.

White men are liberated. They don’t feel threatened by their woman earning more or having aspirations. A white man will have dinner ready for you when you come home late from work. He will have the children bathed and put to bed without being asked.
White men are faithful. You can trust that if he’s out late with his friends he’s not going to end the night having acquired a small house. You know that when he dies there won’t be any kids coming out of the woodwork making claims on his estate. White culture values monogamy, whereas black culture puts a premium on how many notches he has on the bed post.

White men value family and financial security. They invest in trust funds and leave an inheritance for their children. And oh the children! The caramel skin, the pretty brown eyes and the big, curly hair… I want gorgeous children! Have you seen those beautiful interracial family photos? I deserve that in my life.

It’s not that I hate black men. It’s that after more than two decades of being in relationships with black men, I’ve gone through enough grief for a lifetime. I want to be happy and for me that means not committing the rest of my life to a black man.

For a long time that’s how I felt about black men and that’s how many young black women feel today. We’ve seen our mothers cry over the hurt of discovering yet another affair and have witnessed them covering up the bruises in makeup. We’ve watched our sisters going down the same path, like history repeating itself. We have borne the wounds ourselves and are left with scars as reminders.

It’s hard to argue with experience when all a person has known is one side of the story. Hurt speaks way louder than platitudes like, ‘There are good black men out there. God has one for you.’ That’s not helpful. What is helpful is looking deeper and exploring why some black women feel like white men are the only viable life partners.

 

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Cherie – Chapter 52 – Happy Birthday

Life has it’s ups and downs. I know Cherie has been struggling with paying for school. But for the most part, I think everything will work out. I know she felt bad about asking me for money but I think that’s behind us now.

I mean, how bad is my life? I like to work. I like being busy and get bored when I’m idle. I enjoy my alone time. But I have an active social life.

All of my past relationships follow a similar path. A traditional path and they all failed in the same way. There was a pattern I was following and it always led to the same failure. So this time I’m doing something different and it’s working perfectly for my mind and lifestyle.

Cherie meets all of the criteria to be in a successful relationship with me. I think I’ve finally found the Rosetta Stone to a happy life with a woman for me.

  1. She’s on the right side of 30. We all know by now I love youth and beauty. I don’t care what anybody thinks about that. If you had the chance to drive an old Subaru or a new Maserati, which would be the obvious choice?
  2. She lives 40 miles away. There’ll be no swinging by, or stopping in. I live in the city and have no reason to own an automobile anymore. So I can’t really get out there to see her. I mean, I could, but where do I stay? She lives with her parents and she has a 6 year old son. Her sister lives there too, and I know there’s a couple of other little ones living there. She can’t bring me into that mix. At least not yet, and I’m fine with that.
  3. I only see her once or twice a month. That’s plenty for me. She’s so busy with work and school and son, there’s very little time to get down here to see me. I don’t need tons of girlfriend time. It’s too emotionally draining for me. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder. I really appreciate our limited time together. I’m not one of these men that needs a woman in his life all of the time. It’s just annoying.
  4. She’s a certified nymphomaniac. What guy doesn’t want this? A hot, young, fit babe that is deadly in the sack. She’s so orgasmic that you always feel like a virile beast when you’re making love to her. I’m not getting any younger and am a former hypersexual myself, so at my age I’m truly blessed to have a young lady who is always horny for me.
  5. She doesn’t want any more children. Okay, this is huge. This has been the deal breaker in my last THREE relationships. Cherie has been a parent for six years. You grow up fast when you have a baby or a small child counting on you for everything and not much assistance. I don’t want any more children, and this could end up being the ideal arrangement for me at last. All of these chicks I’ve been with have been in the same age range and they are still trying to figure out who they are. It’s sad that there’s this ridiculous extended adolescence in this country. But it’s almost always the same model. They go out and party, go out to dinner, go on trips and buy a bunch of designer shit in their twenties all while burning through a string of dudes. Then they finally attach themselves to some sap and marry him. His income helps neutralize and pay down her revolving debt. They get a house, a dog and then kids start happening. In 10 years they’ve either become roommates or divorced and he pays thousands of dollars in child support to her. Hopefully he doesn’t repeat the mistake again. Or… they live happily ever after!

Cherie is the perfect blend of the ingredients that make the perfect romantic cocktail to compliment my lifestyle. I just hope we can maintain this level. After college she’ll have to go to medical school, so for now… there’s no end in sight!

Anyway, I was sitting in Cavanaugh’s last Monday and thankfully realized that Cherie’s birthday was on Friday.

It has been a year since we had her birthday lunch at Misconduct Tavern. Back then I gave her a $20 gift card to Starbucks and some Godiva chocolates. I had only been dating her a month and didn’t want to set the bar too high. I remember her saying all she wanted for her birthday was to have sex with me. A week later we were holed up at the Club Quarters for 24 hours just banging away for the very first time. Man, that was an incredible day. We fucked like rabbits!

So I went to ProFlowers and ordered a dozen long stem roses in a pretty vase and a little box of chocolates for my love. They were delivered to her home and I’m positive she wasn’t expecting them.  So she squealed with delight.

Now I’m the one who owes her some birthday sex!

She’s 28 years old now! Let’s keep this relationship going, Cherie!

 

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Phicklephilly – Here We Go Again

WARNING: This Post Is NSFW

Go here to read it:

https://lapetitemort17.wordpress.com/2019/04/21/phicklephilly-here-we-go-again/

 

 

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