Duncan – Touchdown – Part 1

“Whenever his plane lands he always texts me the signal: “Touchdown.” I know he’s landed in Philly and the fun is about to begin. But in that moment I didn’t realize how his phrase would ring true this fateful weekend.”

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Duncan had planned on coming into town to visit me. It had been a while since we’d hung out. But this was a very special weekend. He was turning 50 and the Philadelphia Eagles were playing in the Super Bowl.

Whenever his plane lands he always texts me the signal: “Touchdown.” I know he’s landed in Philly and the fun is about to begin. But in that moment I didn’t realize how his phrase would ring true this fateful weekend.

My schedule has changed since he last was up here in Philly. I work every day and only get every other Saturday off. I don’t mind because I love to work and stay busy. We’ve got two businesses to run and this blog’s not going to write itself.

While I was walking into work today, I realized that even though we don’t see each other very often, Duncan is my very best friend. We’ve known each other for 20 years.

He later rolls into the salon on Friday afternoon. It’s great to see him. He walks up to me and practically jumps into my arms.

I give him the tour of the gym and salon. It’s been over a year since he’s seen it. The last time he was here the space was an empty husk of a fallen restaurant. Now it’s a busy tanning salon with a personal training fitness center up front. We’ve come a long way since then. He’s impressed.

We takes a seat in the waiting area and we chit-chat. This time together gives us a chance to catch up on what’s happening in each other’s lives. It’s been slow at the salon so we can talk. Duncan also likes all of the young attractive women that come in to tan. It’s like an endless pageant of beauty.

I get a couple of cheese steaks and sodas delivered and we happily munch them, while bringing each other up to date. We discuss current events, business, work, the women in our lives, and most of all Super Bowl LII.

When I finish we decide to go to Duncan’s favorite bar at the Ritz Carlton. He stayed there last year and we loved it. I got him a more modern and less expensive room at the Hotel Palomar at 17th and Sansom. But there’s no bar that looks like what’s at the Ritz Carlton. It’s a vast space with high ceilings surrounded by pillars. It’s like you’re having a drink at a beautiful white marble bar in ancient Rome. (But with all the modern amenities) If you ever get to Philly, check it out.

We park it at the bar and Duncan goes for his favorite: Rum, Bailey’s and Cream. It’s like a White Russian but more like a milkshake for adults. I like my drinks with a touch of evil so I go for the Manhattan, Bulliet Rye, Sweet Vermouth and brandied cherries. A lethal and elegant classic cocktail.

We get into it. We’ve been friends for 20 years. We know basically everything about each other. But there’s always new material. Stuff you know, but we go for the deeper dive. We both have issues with our parents. Who doesn’t our age? Especially boys.

We agree that the only way we could have moved forward in our lives was to forgive them and embrace all of the great things they did. Not dwell on the horrific things they did to us growing up.

We used to just listen to heavy metal and go to concerts and eat and party in the old days.

We relive those days of simple joy. Building our time together around concerts, meals, drinks, drugs and fun. But now we’re both men in middle age that have held our friendship through truth and our common interests. But mostly growing up in the same era and loving all of the same things.

The pain we suffered growing up has always been there, but tonight in middle age we let loose and agree to forgive. My gentle friend’s childhood was way worse than mine. Our parents were so good to us and they did the best they could, but why the violence against us?

Nothing good came from any of that. It was all just an emotional and physical release for them to escape from their own pain and frustration. None of our sisters knew this, but the sons did. The humiliation. The beatings. It was awful.

How could you do that to a child. By today’s standards, it is a 911 call.

I know my best friend’s life was worse than mine. There is always someone who’s had it worse than you.

I Love Duncan and treasure him as my distant best friend. We are always connected even though there are miles between us.

Our cylinders run an engine of friendship that transcends time and space. Business, values, marriage, relationships, philosophy, politics. comedy, film, Star Wars, comics, music. Everything. I just adore him.

20 years. You can’t build that without your ups and downs but there’s love there. It’s something we both have wanted our entire lives. I met my very best friend 20 years ago through the banking industry.

You never know when you’re going to meet a best friend. Sometimes you don’t even know who they are when you have them. But you open your eyes one day in this fleeting life and there they are 20 years later and you are just as you were when you first started.

You love all of the same stuff. There’s a little bit of new stuff, but the vein runs through it and it is pure. That’s your guy. He gets you. He knows your secrets and all of your fuck ups and weaknesses and he hangs in there anyway.

You can tell him anything and he won’t ever judge you. That’s a friend. He has all of his shit, and you have yours. You have both taught each other to forgive those that have hurt you. They only were doing the best they could with what they had.

They’re lives were so much harder than ours. Their parents came from a harder place and were even more ignorant than we are. But we’re the next generation and we love them. They did so many great things and that outweighs most of the awful mistakes that they made with us.

 

I’m plowing Manhattan’s and Duncan is destroying his White Russians like he’s John Bonham. Then for the first time in our 20 year relationship we finally dig into the darkness.

The agonizing pain of our childhoods and how ignorant our parents were. I describe what happened to me and with Duncan I feel safe in telling him what my childhood was like.

Then he describes incidents from his childhood and I am horrified and tears come to my eyes because I can’t imagine that happening to my friend.

It’s way worse than any of my punishments and almost seem like a call to child services would have been in order back then.

But as awful as it all is as we laugh and throw our cocktails back we discuss forgiveness and understanding. We both realize where our parents were in their lives back then. Where they came from and how far they came with all of us kids.

It was a different time back then and they didn’t know any better. They really did a lot of great things. Fantastic things for us kids, but there were moments where they made missteps that marked us forever.

They could never have foreseen the long-term effect on how what they gave us would propel us into greatness, but in that same moment, provide a weight, a nearly disabling weight that could destroy us in the same moment.

Some of their children would prevail and soar high and clean. Others would crawl from the wreckage of their upbringing broken and fragile, but would still find their way.

Maybe these birds cast from the nest would find their way and eventually fly back to the nest and rescue their own parents from their on demise.

Simply as an act of kindness.

Because they had become good people.

They were able to take the best of what they learned from their parents, and forgive the worst. Learn from it and be the best people they could be.

That’s my Duncan.

It’s late and we’re elated but wiped out. The bill comes and it’s $200. My God.

Duncan pays it.

I feel a twinge of regret but he insists. The weekend is only getting started and I’m stupid happy to see him.

I love Duncan. Our history is so rich, we could write a phicklphilly book just about our stories. (I probably will)

Our friendship has aged beautifully. Middle age hasn’t been kind to any of us, but we’re still tight as super glue. Our friendship has transcended time and space. We still love and hate all of the same stuff together. Now we’re in our fifties and I would love nothing more than to sit beside my dear friend watching whatever new Star Wars incarnation Disney can create and be happy.

We just want to share a moment, a drink, and a laugh.

We’ll do more than that this weekend, but for now… I’m just happy to have him in my life after all of this time.

 

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Abby – The First 30 Minutes

In the first five minutes I learn that she’s actually interested in becoming an actress, loves dogs, and really wants to save anal for “real relationships” from here on out.

After Annabelle dumped me, I got talked in to online dating to get me out of my funk. (See:Annabelle – Guy Walks Into a Bar) Instead of bitching and moaning, I decided to just embrace it, and go out and meet women. I didn’t really lead people on. A couple of times at the end of the date I looked at them and flat-out said “We’re just not right for each other.” The first time I was blown away when she let out a sigh of relief and said, “Yeah. You’re right, we’re just moving in different directions. But huge thanks for being cool about it.” A fair number of random dates, fun fooling around, and general dating fun. Because I was really in it just to meet people and not hunker down at home and get depressed, I also had some utterly bizarre dates.

I spoke to Abby a couple of times online, but decided to meet and have dinner pretty quickly. She was funny, and sounded like fun. I got to the bar first, grabbed a drink and talked to the bartender. I actually let them know what was happening. Had enough time to drink half my drink, when she walked in. Happily, she looked better than her pic. Got up, introduced ourselves, nice hug, she sat down and belted down the rest of my drink. Okay… admittedly, not the strangest thing that happened to me that week. No big deal. The bartender comes over, and I ask her if she wants another. “Sure, but make it a double, but no coke. Just rum. Well, no rum. Just whiskey.” she says.

Interesting…. In the first five minutes I learn that she’s actually interested in becoming an actress, loves dogs, and really wants to save anal for “real relationships” from here on out. Oh, and she doesn’t like to do cocaine anymore because it really leads to her making bad decisions. Cool….. I’m now looking around the restaurant for hidden cameras. Another ten minutes, and we’ve talked a little about work, the crappy commutes, coolest client stories I’ve ever had.

Suddenly she looks me dead in the eye (bartender is within arms reach), and says “I’m going to the bathroom. You want a blow job?”

Thirty minutes in to the date. I check the bartender for an ear bud or body camera. Nope. Still no sign of hidden cameras or anything, the chick is just bizarre. The bartender is shaking his head “no” at me. I’m not against some fun freaky time on the first date, but in the first 30 minutes?? I decline. I order two more drinks (signal to slow it down). She disappears, comes back, and we talk for five more minutes before she slams her drink, leans over French kisses me and says “This has been fun! I hope to see you again!”. And bounces out.

The bartender comes over, and we just start laughing. It was SO FREAKING bizarre. I grab a menu, order some dinner. As I’m finishing my dinner drink, the bartender comes over and points at the door. Abby is sneaking back in the restaurant, and heading upstairs (split level place). I take my time finishing my drink, to see if I get any more bizarre tidbits to add to the story, but nothing happens. The bartender even went upstairs to check on things, only to find her doing a rail of coke by herself.

Bizarre blind date. Anal might have happened after the cocaine, but the blow job was offered in the first 30 minutes or so.

 

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Petition – Help Get Mac Mart To The (Reading Terminal) Market!

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Ambria – Chapter 7 – Monday Meeting

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

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.

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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.

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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.

 

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Ambria – Chapter 5 – Wednesday Night – Part Three

I pay the check. It’s $65. I figured a cheap happy hour with my new flower that would consist of $2 beers and $1 tacos. But it hasn’t played our like that. It never does. But this one isn’t like the others.  Nothing like the others.

What is happening?

We leave El Rey. What Ambria doesn’t know is that El Rey is owned by the same company who own the Rainstead Room. The server tells me we can cruise through the kitchen and go to Rainstead, but I say no. I want to take Ambria outside, and around the corner to the dirty alley to where the Rainstead resides.

We step into the night, and walk around the corner to the alley-like street that is Ranstead,  She seems a little nervous. But I put her at ease. I tell her it’s up ahead. On the balcony there is a red light. Before us is a black door with two R’s on it. Ranstead Room!

I open the door for her and in she goes. The vestibule, which more like and entrance hall is illuminated in red light and there is a young lady sitting there to host us inside. She grabs the next door and in we go. Inside is a very dark plush bar. Dimly lit, with a long white bar and a room of dark private booths. Blues plays in the background and the walls are adorned with paintings of nude women. It’s like something out of a Tarantino film.

Ambria instantly loves the place. She had no idea that it existed. She went with a vodka driven, light, sweet drink. I went with a spirit forward rye infused cocktail. These drinks are well crafted and delicious. They’re not cheap. But Ambria already said she’s paying so…

There’s a lot of gazing into eyes, hand holding and just general touching. There’s talk about us making love. I can’t believe this is happening on the second date! There’s such amazing chemistry between us.

It’s really uncanny.

I think of how difficult it is for people to really connect in this modern world, and how everyone is so connected through social media now. But that’s all it is, social media. It isn’t really connecting with anyone at all. Not in any real way. But I did meet Ambria on Tinder. But let’s look at what that is. It’s the new way to meet people and connect. But once you’ve swiped right and made contact, it’s up to you. Some people just want to hook up and have sex. That’s fine. That’s not for me, and not the way I operate in the world. I can only be intimate with someone I really like. The sex isn’t simply a release or a desire. It’s a celebration of our physical selves because we love each other. Now, that may sound corny to some of you, but what’s better than making love to someone you absolutely adore. It’s amazing.

Ambria says she’s a giver. I tell her I am as well. I have always been a giver. I can’t believe my good fortune for this sort of lightning to strike with such a wonderful lady.

This is our second date. It started officially around 5:45pm today. It’s now 10:30pm. The two and a half our lunch yesterday, and now four hours into our second date the very next day are strong indicators that there is a powerful attraction happening here.

She slips her shoes off, and puts her feet up on my chair. Just the way she’s listening to me when I speak. I can see she’s really into me. This is great. I feel her foot press gently against my crotch. This is a hot night.

She has to get a train back home. I ask her how and when. It’s getting late. She says she hasn’t given a thought about the clock or going home. She is lost in this wonderful night with me. The next train is at 11:30pm. That’s like an hour from now. We’re not doing that. I tell her I’ll call an UBER for her and send her home on my account. She likes that idea far better than going over to Suburban Station and waiting for a train and then getting home after midnight.

She pays for the two rounds of drinks like she said she would.

What a great girl.

We go outside and immediately start making out. I don’t mean like kissing, I mean deep, penetrating sensuous making out. That hasn’t happened on any of these dates that I’ve been on up till now.

I kissed her and it didn’t feel like a first passionate kiss. That awkward connecting of our mouths to be intimate that happens sometimes when you start making out with someone. The making out usually has to be later perfected as you get to understand the movement and rhythm of the person you’re with. There was none of that. It felt like she already belonged to me. Like we’d been together for a while.

Like I was kissing a girlfriend.

We walk up to 20th and Market and I summon the UBER. I thought East Falls where she lives was far away. It’s not. She won’t be waiting for a train at 11:30. She’ll be home in a few minutes. The ride is only going to cost me $8 bucks.

Before the car arrives there is more delicious kissing with Ambria. We’re both hot for each other and I’m really happy I met this lovely girl. We’re both buzzed and as I put her in the car.

I almost tell her I love her.

Almost…

 

 

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