June – Runs with Scissors – Midtown Fall Festival Too!

Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.

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So technically, I said I’d probably not go out with June again. But desperate times call for desperate measures. Is it a 2nd date? It kinda is. I can’t wiggle out of that. I may regret it, but I want what I want and it’ll make for good prose. As you may have read in my last chapter, (Valerie – Date 4) My buddy Johnny wasn’t coming down because he had stuff to do.  We thought it was going to rain but it didn’t, and I really wanted to go to the Midtown Street Festival!

I set it up the date the night before with June. Who I know likes to drink and even though she’s no box of chocolates, she’s fun to be with. So a few days before my morning date with Valerie, I told June about the street festival and how I’d like to go and I’d like her to join me after 2pm if she was available. She agreed and it was on.

I get there, and text her, and within a few minutes we’re together. We hug and agree that we should get a drink. She says, “I’ll get the first round.” ( I am nearly aroused by that statement based on how things have been going on these dates lately.) So I am back at the festival. It’s in full swing now. I ran into a couple of people, but not my friend with the baby son. How funny would it be if he saw me with Valerie at 1pm and June at 3pm?

The drinks were flowing and the festival was great. June is fun to be wit, but again, I’m not feeling the energy. The amazing light is not there. I’m glad that I’m doing all of this and I’m meeting some new people, but the quest will continue. We stopped on Chestnut in front of a whiskey and jazz bar called Time.  There is a good band playing and we’re chatting with some folks around us. I was telling June about a new opportunity in which I’m about to embark. I am telling her about how part of the package is a membership to the Pyramid Club. The Pyramid Club is a private members only club on the 51st floor of the BNY Mellon Center at 18th and Market. It has amazing views and is a great place to take clients. I’m telling her all about it and the last time I was there. A co-worker at my last job had tickets to a New Years Party there, and gave them to me because she was going to something else that night. I reached out to one of the most beautiful women I know to go with me as arm candy. Her name is Sarika. She is Indian and incredibly beautiful and smart. But she is a vacuous, mean-spirited wench that women hate. All of my female friends have warned me about her and my opinion has always been: “She hasn’t done anything to me, so…” But she is trouble. I invited her and she agreed. Normally I hate New Years and any shitshow that involves amateur night, greatest hits drunk people. But it was a nice event and I wanted to look good bringing her with me, and being seen with a beautiful woman. The pictures would have been fabulous. But apparently there was some “confusion” and she “thought” it was some sort of event I could bring a bunch of people to, and she invited some asshole she’s been seeing. I’ve heard all of the stories in regard to this “relationship.” I think he’s enjoying the sex and novelty of being with her but it’s not a match. His family will never accept her. As smart as she is, she’s socially awkward and kind of nerd. Which normally I would find hot. A pretty girl who likes Sci Fi? It should work but it doesn’t. I’ll expand on her when I write her chapter, but I got pissed that she wanted to bring a date to my $80 a plate event. She’s smart, and I was thinking everything that everyone has said about her is true. She’s awful.

So I’m telling June this story and to another two ladies we were hanging with. I finish the story, and within five minutes, this beautiful woman walks by and June says; “I like your jacket” and I look over and it’s Sarika! It was such an uncanny moment that I could never have imagined. June had just gone to the truck next to us to get us drinks and Sarika starts talking to me. I’m half in the bag and she’s says: “What happened New Years?” I just tell her I was in a bad place and it was all a misunderstanding because I’ve had 8 drinks and she looks great as usual. I can’t disrespect June no matter what I feel or where I am in the day. It was a surreal moment. Of all people to show up at that moment. I wish I had been talking about lottery numbers or my last girlfriend and maybe I would summon them all up. June passes me my drink and is on the other side of the table with the other girls. Sarika asks me if  I tried to contact her because she has a new number, and I tell her I haven’t. (which I loved saying)  She asks if she can give me her new number so we can catch up and like the idiot I am, I relinquish my phone. It was weird because even before the story that summoned up this siren, I thought of Sarika earlier that same day, when I went on Facebook. You know how now they show that you have memories with certain people on that day a year ago? Well it came up that I was at a fashion show with Sarika a year ago and it made me think of her. I thought she had moved to another city for her work and Philly was rid of this witch. But no. She’s still here to wreak more havoc and crush the spirits of the people around her. But my mind went one place. This work. Any contact with her will feed this story. And at this moment, my art takes precedence over everything.

I tell her I’m glad we’re cool and that we’ll catch up before the end of the month. I will meet with her, but I will write about her and be truthful about who Sarika really is.  So she moves on and goes back to whoever the hell she’s hanging out with currently at some other table. I explain it away to June and the other girls and they laugh at the mad irony of this moment. I did notice that after that incident June stuck really close to me. She said I should have kissed her in front of Sarika, and I would have done that had I been into her. Which sadly I’m not, and Sarika wouldn’t have given a shit, and would have probably texted me later saying: ” Who was that woman you were with?” Not in jealousy but in: “What were you doing with that old lady?” Like I said, Sarika is a rotten person. And technically sometimes so am I.

June had cooked up a bunch of food the night before, and had to go to some event that night so shehad to get her back home. We said goodbye to the girls we had been chatting with, and walked back down through the festival, drinking our way through it of course.

She lives in Washington Square West. It’s a beautiful neighborhood, and she lives on a really great street. We get to her house and we’re out front saying our goodbyes. We’re hugging and kissing. Actually we’re making out. There is some physical activity but it’s her street and I don’t want to disgust her neighbors. However I did enjoy it. I think in that moment, that all of these women may all have a place in my life right now. None of them are “the one” but their sum total keeps me amused and busy. For some reason I find that interesting.

Anyway, I can drink. I can handle myself when it comes to the bottle. I’ve only been sipping IPA’s all afternoon and it would take a lot more than that to bang me up. But, I’m saying goodbye and I’m backing up, and I lose my footing when I step onto this ring of cobblestones that border this tree out front of her house. I fall backward. There is this little metal fence about two feet high around the tree. I destroy that wire fence as gravity takes me back to earth. I don’t technically fall, more like sit back on the fence, crush it, and slide down the tree into the flowerbed around it. June runs down and helps me get up. I look like a stupid drunk. But I swear I’m not. I know what you’re thinking… yea, you are, but I really did just lose my footing and tripped backwards. I’m back on my feet, thanks to June, and we’re trying to bend the little fence back into shape, but it’s ruined. We’re laughing and I dust myself off and assure her I’m not a fall down drunk and I’m really okay. She says: ” You need to text me when you get home safe.”

I walk down to the corner and summon an UBER. I normally wear jeans that are a 32 waist, but they were in the laundry and I had on a dark blue pair of 34 waist jeans. So I have to wear a belt. But the belt I pulled out of my closet, was a really old weathered belt I’ve owned for over 15 years. Well, when I get to the corner I realize that my pants are really loose, because in the fall I have blown out the old buckle on the belt. It’s still attached to the belt but it has released from its connecting piece. So my drawers are super loose and I have to hold them up like some homeless bum. But a very well dressed bum with a lovely french scarf and blazer. I grasp my pants and get into the UBER. I get home in one piece and text her that I’m fine, and everything is good, and that I had a great time with her.

I’m up or maybe 2 hours and realize I am exhausted from all of the walking and drinking of the day and go to bed. I slept for at least 10 hours. When I awakened to go work at the spa I was completely refreshed. I worked the day and felt great. I met with my friend Johnny after 4pm and he and I went to our usual go to: McGincheys. (Which is our beloved home) It’s a filthy dive that has $2.60 wines and $4 bud bottles that Johnny loves. We exchange stories and I tell him all about my weekend and he says he envies my life. We drink, and smoke cigarettes (Yes one of the few bars you can still smoke in here in Philly!) we take turns playing songs on the jukebox and it is the perfect end to an adventurous weekend. He’s a good friend and a decent man despite his love of vice. I tell him what June is like and he says he would love a girl like that. I know June would be wild if I would crack the seal on that one. He says based on what I’ve said I should probably have a good time with her and take her to places like McGlinchey’s. I think he’s right. He says she may even be down for a threesome. We laugh and order another round.

 

Thank you for reading Phicklephilly. Pleas read, like, comment and most of all follow my blog. I publish every Monday at 9am EST.

I publish new Dating content every Monday. I publish Updates and bios and stories about related characters, such as male and female friends and acquaintances on Wednesdays at 9am EST.

Katsumi – Update

I got a text from Katsumi out of the blue last night. It said: “Getting rid of Tinder… So if you don’t see me, that’s why.”

I told her I was dropping it as well. (Bold faced lie) Then I asked her if she had any interest in seeing me again. Her reply was: I am not sure if it logistically makes sense. I pretty much have only 1 free Saturday every 2 weeks. I have kids all the other days. When I have kids, I can leave them home for an hour or two but I can’t go far. So how are we going to date? It is close to impossible unless it is someone closer. Know what I mean?”

My response: “I think it comes down to is if you are interested. I am interested in you and I am attracted to you. I enjoyed my time with you. Even if I could only see you sometimes at your convenience I would be happy.” (Bold faced lie)

Katsumi: “Thank you! I would like to stay friends right now if you are interested.”

Me: That’s fine. I think you have a lovely spirit.” (Yes… another Bold faced lie)

I have plenty of friends. Clearly Katsumi is still married, and it appears that even though her older son is 16 (the one with autism) he can’t be left unsupervised around his brother or in the house for long. At 51 her life still seems kinda crappy. Her husband is still on the deed and still pays all the bills, and currently Katsumi is unemployed. So she needs to get her affairs and life in order before she starts dating again.

So this one is a fail. I’m not going to reach out to her again.

But if at some point she straightens out her shit and wants to see me again… I will strike like a cobra.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday at 9am EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly

I publish new Dating content every Monday at 9am EST. I publish Updates and bios and stories about Non-Dating related characters, such as male and female friends, on TuesdaysWednesdays at 9am EST.

Charlene – Spiritual Innocence

Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.

I was walking down the stairs from my building to Suburban Station. I don’t even remember why. There was a bunch of people coming through and I held the door for a group of ladies that were coming down behind me. This one attractive black woman wearing a hijab and a tunic was very appreciative that I was holding the door for everybody. She thanked me and actually stopped to chat. There seemed to be a very simple instant connection.

Charlene is obviously Muslim. We chatted awhile and I think she felt surprised that we were connecting. But she is very nice and has a pretty smile. I’ve had two girlfriends in the past that were black. I look forward to telling you those stories on here at PhicklePhilly. So we chatted and I exchanged numbers with her. I thought we could meet for lunch and I could get to know her better. I have had almost zero contact with any Muslim women. They simply don’t socialize with anyone outside of their circle. Someone once told me that if you saw a woman walking around in a burka that meant her husband was in jail, because once a black man entered the penal system he usually joined the Muslims that were already in the can. But frankly I think that might be bullshit. If anyone knows the reason, please send me a message or leave a comment.

There was some texting but nothing concrete. Apparently she had been laid off from her job and that’s why I met her at my building. There was some sort of job service, career training agency on the 2nd floor. They had so many people going there everyday, that the building gave them access to their own elevator. Which ironically, when you saw who the majority of people who were going to the job center, it almost felt like segregation.

A few weeks passed and I ran into her again in Suburban Station. We went to the food court at Comcast and had a nice little lunch. It was obviously noisy but we didn’t mind. We were happy just to be sharing a meal.

Charlene seemed fascinated with me in general. She kept asking why a businessman like myself would be interested in her. I told her it didn’t matter. She seemed sweet and nice. She took my hands across the table and looked at them, turning them over to look at my palms and feel them. It was as if this was her first physical contact with a caucasian man. But I kind of liked the attention. We decided to make a date. I asked her if she’d like to see a movie with me on the weekend. She has two daughters, like eight and thirteen. She said if she could get a sitter we’d go out.

This was some groundbreaking stuff for me. All I’d seen of her was her face and her hands. That’s it. The rest of her was completely covered up. I asked her if she was always Muslim and she said the last man she was with was so she got into character. She had expressed that she was debating whether to go back to wearing her regular clothes. But that’ll be her choice. When do you ever see a white guy walking down the street holding hands with a black muslim woman? I’m going to go head and say never! I asked her why she was no longer with that man and she said he was too controlling.

Insecurity is a bitch, guys. Believe in yourself and trust your woman.

So I told her I had to get back to the office and she had to go as well. I walked her up the steps and into the vestibule on 16th street to say goodbye. That’s when I took her face in my hands and kissed her on her soft full lips. She seemed surprised but I saw a green light, so I went for it. She smiled and I could tell it was all okay. I told her I’d be thinking about her and that I’d see her soon. It was a pretty bold move to kiss a black Muslim woman on the lips in public.

But fortune favors the bold.

That Saturday I set up where we were to meet. We were going to see “Meet the Patels.” A wonderful film by the way. See it. It was playing at the Ritz theater in society hill on Walnut Street. I love the Ritz theaters because they always show quality films and it’s quiet and full of responsible adults. Plus the seats are really comfy.

Charlene was driving in, and she seemed to be really struggling to find her way into the city. I was on the phone with her and it was very stressful for both of us. I’m a stickler for being on time when I go to anything related to the arts in any way. And when I say “on time” I mean 15 minutes early. Anyway,  we finally got her there and made it into the movie.  We got some popcorn and settled in the back of the theater and watched the film.

It was a bit of a chilly day. Overcast I remember. After the film we walked around Society Hill a bit. She was a little chilly so I put my coat around her. I was still wearing my signature blazer so I was fine. Normally I’m impervious to the cold so no worries there. We sat down on a little bench and chatted. There was some kissing and cuddling but she was getting cold and it was late so we headed back to her car. More kissing and grabbing ensued. She even said things like “when we have sex” and great things like that. So this was all very exciting to me. She was kind enough to drop me off in Rittenhouse.

There is something simple and sweet about Charlene. She isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but I would rather spend time with someone who is genuinely a nice person than some one that is smart but not a nice person. I’ve met plenty of those assholes. We all have. But there is something to say about the simplicity of Charlene. She’s really happy to spend time with me. There are many things she doesn’t know or understand, but she doesn’t really need to know all of that stuff. She works at her job, and takes care of her house and her two daughters. (Whom I have not yet met.) I kind of like that she seems proud that I’m interested in her. She also seems a bit submissive which is refreshing. Sometimes it’s nice to just spend time with someone who never says shit like “My kind of crazy…” or “I’m a raging feminist.” I think Charlene is the kind of girl who is just happy not to be controlled by some insecure man. She really feels special when you take her out and is very appreciative. It makes a man feel good that he’s with her. That’s rare these days.

So I kept in touch with her but schedules were off so I didn’t see her for a while. I don’t know if I reached out to her or if she to me but I remember speaking with her on the phone. She seemed upset. When I inquired what was wrong she said that they were somewhere and somehow her thirteen year old had gotten in her car and started it and smashed into something. Her kid was fine but that is some alarming shit. She said that she couldn’t deal with her eldest daughter and she wasn’t listening to her anymore. I’m thinking regardless, how did the kid get the keys? I think she wanted me to give her some assistance, but I couldn’t do that at the time. I don’t know if she didn’t have anyone to turn to or what, but I couldn’t do that. I mean, we’d had lunch together. I took her to the movies. I can’t be giving her $500 to fix her front end. I’ve paid out so much in my life, it just didn’t make sense. I like to help people and I’ve been described as a giver, but it was just too early in the game.

I still liked her and was sorry I couldn’t help but that sort of puts you off a person for a bit. But she was still on my mind because she was such a sweet gentle woman and I was attracted to her!  Some months went by and she texted me out of the blue. That was two weeks ago. We’re supposed to meet up for lunch again soon so I’ll continue this saga then. If she doesn’t bail.

Update: She got a job! She had a work conflict so she couldn’t come down. Maybe we’ll go out again sometime.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday at 9am EST.

I publish new Dating content every Monday at 9am EST. I publish Updates and bios and stories about related characters, such as male and female friends and acquaintances on Wednesdays at 9am EST.

Rebecca – Chapter 3 – Dark Wings of Destiny

Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.

Rebecca was right next to me. I could feel the energy. I felt really close to her. “The city is so beautiful” she said. She turned to me. “You are” I replied.

And that’s when our lips met. My Lord. I’m too old for this. Wait…no I’m not. I kissed her. Her lips were soft as she yielded to me. She folded into me like an old friend. It was just like I just stepped off stage at the Troubadour in Los Angeles and she loved the song that I had written about her. I was ageless in that moment. Overcome. Beautiful. This can’t be happening but it is. Her lips are sweet and a little sticky. Minty. Human.

Her pupils were so big, it’s like her eyes were black instead of green. Her cheeks flushed and she giggled. I gently brushed her dark hair from her face and behind her ear. She slipped from me and cocked her head. It was as if she were trying to see me in a different way. “Let’s go look at some more stuff” she said, smiling. All I could hear was Midnight Moses playing in my head by the Dead Daisies. 

We continued to wander though the museum. Just going from room to room. I was making her laugh a lot about some things because that’s what I do. I think at this point it was more nerves than game. I was smitten. I’m like a child at this point. I really am. I’m just amazed to be alive at this moment.  But this is the old me. The new, old me. I shouldn’t follow this path.

We went into this one room and the whole room is art in architecture. Glorious big rooms that are incredible and opulent. We are looking around the room and I’m behind her and she just leans back into me, and she is again in my arms. Is it the art? Is it me? It can’t be me. This is nuts, but the euphoria is glorious. I love this. This is my favorite part of everything. The beginning. Ignition. I’ve always been this way, much to the disappointment of the women in my life. But for right now I am living in this moment. None of this makes any sense but I am mainlining this feeling. She turns in my arms and nuzzles her lips and nose to mine. Her eyes are smokey and dark. Lashes flash and she smiles. She looks deeply into my eyes. Rebecca pulls me into her world and kisses me again.

And again…

There was a moment when we were sitting in one of the galleries and she was so excited by a work of art she grabbed my hand. She clasped it tightly in both of her hands as she described her passion for the work.  It was one of my favorites as well. The couple coming home from the carnival. I feel her soft hand clasp mine. She’s holding my hand in her lap. Dopamine drops and I am blind. The work was beautiful. But, I could no longer see it. It was gone. As was I. All I could feel in that moment was the back of my hand against Rebecca’s warm thigh.

I think we were at the PMA for 3 maybe 4 hours. I have no sense of time at this point with Rebecca. If I never hear from her again, I’m okay. This was a special sacred moment that I can wrap myself up in tonight. It’ll be just like waking up from a beautiful dream.

Obviously we did get around to inquiries. Being overwhelmed by beauty and art only lasts so long. I asked he why she is on Tinder. She said that she wanted to meet someone good. Someone that understood her and liked the things she liked. She told me at her age her friends aren’t really friends at all. They are just a bunch of young fools that smoke a bunch of weed and get drunk all of the time. She has ambition and wants to make something of herself. (she did seem really mature while we were texting) She told me she kind of went on Tinder to try. She gave me an example of a conversation she had with a boy her age recently. They were chatting and she asked him what he was looking for and he said he’d like to have some fun. When she asked him to define “fun” he sent her a photo of his genitals. That is some sad textbook shit right there. She explained to me that as an emergency room nurse, she gets her fill of seeing plenty of junk on a regular basis. “I don’t want to see his dick. I saw 5 dicks today and I had to put a catheter in and 85-year-old dick today”

My unblinking response: Okay…..okay…

She said she met another guy. She loved his mind and political views and he was just a really smart guy. She thought maybe her love of his mind and heart would translate into sex but she just wasn’t lit when they kissed. Women know. It’s either on in their minds and bodies or it’s not. Sadly boys, men do not have this ability. She said she went on 4 dates with him and it was done. He was divorced and really into his kids, I think she said they were 16 and 19. He wanted to have her over and they were going to have dinner with the gang, and it all seemed weird because the teens were a little uncomfortable with their 54-year-old father bringing over a girl who was only 4 years older than the 19-year-old son.

Fuck.  I’m jaded as hell and I hate that story. But it really came down to the fact that there was no chemistry. And that’s critical because I have made that kind of lightening strike twice in the same place in the last decade. But what I noticed was she liked him but just wasn’t feeling the intimacy when they kissed. It just wasn’t there. She said she really liked him as a man and tried to keep the friendship going but he realized there was no fire so he withdrew. He has since moved on and even recently married.

So is this chick into older men? I suppose so because she is so bright and mature in her head. She’s got the brain of Emily Dickenson and the body of Vanessa Hudgens.

What am I supposed to do with that?  I never saw any of this coming when I started this blog. I thought I would be just writing about my experiences with women here in Philly over the last 10 years and this curve ball blindsided me.

She told me her dad is a big guy who is from New York and he’s a caricature of a New Yorker. Works for the railroad. Her uncle travels the world and sounds like a cool guy that works and makes enough money and then moves to the Philippines and lives like a king for a year and then does it again somewhere else. That sounds awesome. I don’t have the freedom to do that but if I did you know I’d be there in Thailand risking arrest every year until I die. But I digress…

We wander back to the first floor and are nearing the exit. She validates her parking because apparently she is a member of the museum which I find super cool. We walk out the door and go to the elevator to the parking garage. I didn’t know the PMA had this. It must be new.  I walk her to her car. It’s dusty and blue. We do the perfunctory statement. I like you. I want to see you again. But those words are hollow. I think I may never see her again. This all seems so unreal. I have not felt this in years. Please don’t let this happen again. But I want the drug of love. Not love. Just the drug. I feel like a helpless addict.

She looks up at me under the flourescent lights of the stark concrete shapeless parking garage. Her green eyes flash in the light like pale emeralds. She runs her hands through her thick mane of dark hair. I watch as it tumbles back to her shoulders through her fingers. Her neatly manicured fingernails. The lean muscles in her arms. She smiles. Sort of a sly, half-smile. Like she knows something about me that I haven’t revealed. I think she senses it in my eyes. I smile and try to clear that. But she sees me. It’s unsettling. She places her petite hands together likes she’s praying, and then spreads them and reaches for me. Her hands hit my shoulders and pull me toward her. She kisses me. The kiss is deep and wet. Her tongue swirls. I am lost in this sensous moment.

But just for a moment.

Rebecca: “I like you. The Fringe Festival is happening soon. Can we go to something?”

You all know my answer.

She places her foot against the door and adjusts her shoe. I steal a glance at her well turned leg. She lingers on the laces of her sneaker. It’s taking too long. It’s as if she wants to remind me of what I like. She knows. She’s reading me. Come on. Nobody can do that. Maybe it’s all in my head, but her legs are exquisite and she knows she has touched the beyond.

She drives away and I am back on the street behind the museum. No fish fell from the sky. I order an UBER. He arrives in 8 minutes and I am on my way back to Rittenhouse. I am sitting in the back of the Toyota Avalon and my mind is reeling. I need to hold it together. He’s lost for some reason and I have to guide the driver home. I get out and realize I haven’t eaten in over 8 hours. I stop at my local corner shop and order a slice to go. I get back to the bat cave and text her.

“Home safe. Had a lovely evening with you.”

Crickets.

Panic.

“I was just about to text you the same thing! See you soon! XOXO- Rebecca”

We’ll just have to see how this one plays out. I’m not going to get my hopes up, but if it goes well,  I will be getting airbags installed in the headboard of my bed.

Old habits die hard.

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday at 9am EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly

I publish new Dating content every Monday at 9am EST. I publish Updates and bios and stories about Non-Dating related characters, such as male and female friends, on TuesdaysWednesdays at 9am EST.

Rebecca – Chapter 2 – Dark Wings of Destiny

Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.

In the last episode our hero was preparing for his big date with Rebecca. let’s see how it plays out.

The Date

I jumped into an Uber out front of my house and went to the Philadelphia Museum of Art. The PMA is an amazing part of this city. I have been going there since I was a child. I remember going as a kid with my family. My father always exposed us to the arts. Dad introduced us to art, music, literature and everything else. I should probably do a blog about him at some point, but I’ll cover this stuff for now. I think I could see this blog metamorphosing into who I really am and that idea is unsettling. But somehow, I know that it will. It almost has to change. How long can I write about all of these lovely creatures that come in and out of my life? I know down deep I will run out stories and the real me will come forward. I think that’s when this memoir will become what it truly needs to be.

Anyway I had to say that because I see it, and I know it’s coming for me.

I arrive on time and Santos was a good driver. He brings me to the back of the museum. It’s just easier. I’m not up for doing the Rocky run out front. It’s just too hot today. I think this is the last 90 degree day of the summer here in Philly. I think as a city we’re all tired of the heat. 2013 was a hot summer but people forget. 2013 was “The summer of me” but that will be described in a future blog; Annabel Lee.

One of the beautiful and most elegant things about the PMA is that it never changes. Sure, they have new installations coming in and out all of the time, but you can never change the core of the place. There are just certain pieces that are constant and they fill my heart with wonder, memory and love. The place is simply amazing. If you haven’t gone in a while, please go and feel the magic energy of these wonderful, brilliant artists that make the place what it is. When you walk through the halls of the PMA you can really feel that Homo sapiens are good and make beautiful things, and all of the terrible things we have done as a species melt away after a few hours in there.

I walk in, and like I said it’s pay what you want Wednesdays which based on my last few dates will run me a total of $10. The brilliance continues. Rebecca texts me and says she’s running 15 minutes late which is actually perfect. Normally as you know I hate that. But she’s new and young so I am forgiving. I hit the first floor back balcony and get a glass of wine and wait. I look over the balcony and across the room downstairs. There is a bevy of young women all together sitting on the seats on the other side of the room. Chatting, giggling and looking at their phones.

I’m sipping my Barefoot Chardonnay (basically urine) that cost $9.00, and I get a text. Rebecca has also arrived through the back door of the museum. I tell her I’m upstairs waiting. I see her appear at the top of the stairs, and she fiddles with her phone. I’m going to go ahead right here and tell you she is 30 years younger than me. I know. But I met her on Tinder and this is Phickle Philly and she likes art and is a nurse. Maybe she’s okay. Maybe it’ll be different this time. Maybe I keep doing the same thing over and over with my fatal charm hoping for a different result. But that is madness. Am I mad? She’ll be okay. She won’t be crazy or immature, or 9 months into our relationship tell me that she wants to get married and have kids and I’m too old, and don’t ever want that again. I am what I am and I guess I have followed through with this for a reason. Maybe it will all be okay. ear grips me. I am doing the same thing, over and over again.

Well, she is more than okay. She is exquisite. I have said this before but I literally sucked my breath in when she appeared. Out of all of the photos I’ve posted here to illustrate what these women look like, the one here is really close to what this delightful girl looks like. I kid you not, dear readers. How is this happening again? What am I doing here? How many times have I said this to myself?

Her hair is dark brown. Her eyes are green. Her skin is a light caramel. Her lips are like ripe cherries. She is wearing a red and white cotton top, nothing fancy, with a pair of cutoff jean shorts. Her legs are supple, tan pillars of lean muscle and sinew. She’s wearing white keds. It doesn’t matter, she’s perfect.

My God. She’s beautiful. Is she going to look upon me and run? Will she apologize and say there has been some sort of cosmic mistake? Will I hand her $300 to ” help with school?” Will security come and just throw me off the balcony to finally finish me off on the cold marble floor below me so that I know that this is a dream?

None of that happened. I could see she was texting me so I texted her ” I’m here on the balcony. Come hither”  She looks at her phone and then glances the room. She sees me and smiles. Kill me now. She bounds toward me and I stand. She goes up on her tip toes and hugs me tightly. “I’ve really been looking forward to meeting you!” she exclaims. I can smell her hair. Soft fleece brushes against my face like ribbons of chocolate. The fragrance is soft cocoa. In that moment in her arms, it’s as if she has just revealed a secret to me. She clutches me tightly and then slips away.

She looks me straight in the eyes, and says: “Let’s go share some art!” I swallow the last mouthful of my shitty wine and toss the cup in the trash. I’m locked and loaded. (not really loaded) She asked if I had a map, and I told her that I did. She said “Keep it if you want but I’d rather you toss it in the trash and we just wander together.”

Am I dreaming? Is she going to invoice me for $300 to hang with this lovely doll? But none of that happened either. We simply went downstairs and wandered through the halls. The great thing was that we both had pieces of art we loved and stories behind them. I forgot how connected I was to the PMA. Not as a resident of the city but in my heart.

We came upon a painting called the Moorish Priest. Google it. It’s beautiful and powerful. She stopped and I told her that it was my late Mother’s favorite painting in the whole museum. She loved it so much that my father bought her a framed print of it and it hung in our shore house at the top of the stairs for 30 years. She seemed moved by its beauty and the story. I asked her what her thoughts were and she said; “As a nurse I can see he has a good vein in his hand and in his forearm and I could get an IV in that no problem.” Well she is an emergency room nurse and that’s a legit answer for someone who is always looking for a vein to save a life. The family connection and the irony struck me as funny and nostalgic.

We wandered around for a while rediscovering so many works we both loved. We agreed on so many, for all of the same reasons!  We were on the second floor and there is a huge window that looks down the Ben Franklin Parkway right to City Hall. I told her I remember coming to this very spot as a child and taking a photo of the city through this window with my little plastic Kodak Instamatic camera that I had won in a contest at a shoe store. We looked out at our city. The skyline. It was dusk. The last time I was here was years ago with a group of co-workers on a Friday night during a lightning storm. It was Art After Five on a Friday and we were all plowed on cheap poorly made cocktails. Rebecca was right next to me. I could feel the energy. I felt really close to her. “The city is so beautiful” she said. She turned to me. “You are” I replied.

Tune in tomorrow to see the thrilling conclusion to this story!

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday at 9am EST.

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I publish new Dating content every Monday at 9am EST. I publish Updates and bios and stories about Non-Dating related characters, such as male and female friends, on TuesdaysWednesdays at 9am EST.

Katsumi – Church Mess

Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.

I also met this lovely lady on Tinder. She’s age appropriate and seems nice. We chatted online and then exchanged numbers and made a date last night after my 2nd date with Valerie. (Forgive me, but the blog is called PhicklePhilly. It’s what I do.)

Her profile reads:

Recently separated after a long marriage. Looking for a nice, kind, compassionate, loving, forgiving (I am working on this), humble and positive man. I like to jog, hike, walk, bike and other outdoor activities. I also enjoy cooking, movies, restaurants, traveling, etc. I love to try new things…

Oh I got some new things for you to try…

That’s a tall order to follow for any man. But if there is one man who is up to the job, it’s me. Or, at least I’m up to sending my very best representative out on a date with her this Saturday.  I asked her to have brunch with me on Saturday and she said yes! I asked her what was a good timeframe for her, and she said whatever time works for me. Good answer. I also asked her to come to Philly from Jersey. She said she will comply. So this could be good. Or bad. Either way I’m looking forward to meeting her.  So I may write about this after our date this Saturday.

The Date

So I have had a very interesting week. I should almost blog everyday just to cover it all. I almost want to make Phicklephlly an encompassing blog about all aspects of my life instead of a blog about a bunch of girls I meet. For now I’ll stay here. But I assure you, like anything else humans do, we evolve. This blog will evolve just as I have over this lifetime. So be prepared for that. How many women can I write about? And why? I looked at my list the other night. Everyone I’ve met in the last fifteen years. Not everybody is worth the list. this wont be greatest hits or anything like that but I won’t waste your time with boring characters

I got a text from Katsumi friday night. It was around 10pm. She asked if we were still meeting up Saturday. I had neglected to send the calendar invite. I like that she was attentive. I responded that I was just thinking of her and was in the process of sending. i picked Square 1682 and sent. She immediately accepted. Well done Katsumi. The jury is still out. We chat a bit on text but it looks like it’s going down.

I woke up this morning and went back to sleep. That is something I’d love to hear from everyone I know who works hard every week. I knew one thing. I had a brunch date with Katsumi at 2pm at Square 1682. Saturday, September 10.

Square 1682 is my go to bar in the city. Hands down. For the most part the entire machine works for me and my friends. So Katsumi and I have a brunch date and I lock down on Square. I looked at the brunch menu and saw one thing. Fried Chicken and biscuits. I’m in. They know me. I have to do it because I want that.

I visited a friend of mine at her work and caught up. Her office is a block away from square so I was close. She wished me well and I headed to Square. I arrived at 1:50.  My father taught me well about punctuality. I just realized my fathers obsession with the clock was his own OCD and insecurity about every thing. I guess I’ll deal with that in a later blog.

I’m there and instead of taking a seat at the bar like I always do I get a table. ar first I sat at a table by the window but I was crushed by the sunlight so I moved.

So I’m at my table and I order the bubbly rose just to get a base coat on to meet the lady. 2:10. She is late. 2:20 she says she is on 17th street. 2:30 and a glass of porsecco in and she is trying to park. She says Delancey and I’m like WTF but I’m assuming now that she parked her car or van at 17th and pine. So she’s still 4 blocks away. I am going to resist making any racist stereotypical remarks here.

Now as I said before, I’m a stickler for the clock. It’s now almost 2:50 and I am pissed and red flagging this woman like there is no tomorrow. Other than her getting stuck in a traffic jam caused by a presidential motorcade, there is no excuse for being this late. I was angry, disappointed. I hate this!

And then she walked in.

Asian. Raven hair. Fair skin. Pretty face. Petite. And most of all…great legs.

All is forgiven and well worth the wait. She looks 10 years younger than her actual age. She was wearing a light summer top, red shorts and high heels. She’s looks to be around 90 to 100 pounds tops. She apologized profusely for being so late. Complaining about all the traffic and difficulty finding parking. I didn’t even care at that point. She’s a beauty and I want her.

So I order a cider. Square 1682 has this great cider. It comes in a 12 oz. can. I drink it over rocks. I’m not a huge fan of cider, but I could drink oceans of this stuff. It’s from Franklin Vineyards. It’s dry, 6 % alcohol, 3 mg of carbs, 3 grams of sugar. But it’s not sweet. It is a crisp effervescent delicious beverage for a hot day. If you ever go there, order it.

She sticks to water and orders the calamari. I of course go for the cracking good fried chicken and biscuits. We chat and I begin to learn more about her. She is Chinese and her people came to America by way of Malaysia. She has been married for like 18 years. They are separated and soon to be divorced. But the last few years they have been sleeping in separate bedrooms. Man, I know what that shit’s like. Thank goodness I have been divorced since 2001. Anyway, It seems like her husband is a sociopath and she’s just burned out with all of his nonsense. He seems like manipulative prick. But as you know there are always three sides to every story. Your side, my side and the truth. She still lives in their house but he has left and gotten his own place. The house if free and clear, but he still pays all of the bills. So he can’t be a total asshole. But based on what she’s told me about how he once had a restraining order against her and other stuff, he’s probably somewhat of an asshole. But in Jersey anybody can get a retraining order against anybody.  She has two sons. 16 and 13. Apparently the older one has high-end autism. So he’s really smart but has difficulty expressing himself emotionally and socially. Which must be heartbreaking for a parent. She has him 75% of the time and the 13-year-old 50% of the time. So some how that works out. I know she had them both over the Labor Day weekend before they went back to school. Because we had been texting for a couple of weeks, and this was the weekend she had a free Saturday. Happy she chose me to spend some time with today.

I asked her how her experience has been on Tinder and she said up and down. The first person she ever spoke to on there was 62 years old. They never met but he helped her get through the pain of her separation when it was intense. So I thank you Mr. 62 yr old dude. You cleared the way for me so I don’t have to listen to that shit. She chatted with some Muslim guy for a while but they never met either. So she may have gone on a few dates here and there but she said she went off tinder for awhile so I don’t know. She hasn’t been that active. She said if she sees a guy showing off his car, his house, his muscles or his tattoos, she will always swipe left. So that gives me hope for humanity.

She lives in South Jersey and I appreciated her coming to Philly to see me after only a short time. She said normally she would meet someone for coffee just in case it didn’t go well she could make a quick exit. I told her I usually followed the same line of thinking for a first meeting. Even lunch is good because you can be in and out in an hour. She said she had to do something with her son at 6pm but could hang until after 5. I was happy with that. She asked how many people had I met on Tinder and I told her I spoke with some women but she was the first one I actually wanted to meet. I said that because I am a lying swine and I want her to think she’s in some way special.

She did have an accent but I liked it. She asked if she looked like her photos. I told her she looked better and younger than her pics. She liked that. She said I looked much better than my photos. She also liked that I had shaved off my beard. So that’s a positive. She asked my age and said I looked much younger. So I hope she is getting a good vibe for the Phickle Man. She seemed very interested in connecting with me on Facebook. So we did. She immediately started sniffing around my profile and going through my photos. I mean, I don’t give a shit and I’m not that into social media anymore, but right there in the restaurant? She’s looking at pic of my daughter and pulls up one from Christmas 2008 when Michelle (former girlfriend. Don’t worry. We’ll cover that in the next month or so and it will be epic!) She’s like, “who’s that?” I told her. “You are with a bunch of women.” I told her I know a lot of women and have many women as friends because I connect well emotionally with women and I’m not a wolf. I have nothing to hide on my stupid Facebook. All the secrets are in locked files that only I can see anyway.

I did get her giggling a few times during brunch which I loved .She’s like, “You’re funny.” Chicks like to laugh. That much is true. If you ask any woman what she’s looking for in a man and she’ll probably at some point say: “A good sense of humor.” That is absolute bullshit. They just want a hot guy. Most guys that are hot don’t have to develop at all and get all the ass they want. They don’t need to be funny or smart. They just need to show up. Same goes for hot women. The rest of us have to continue to evolve and grow and develop good personalities and learn sensitivity and kindness and compromise. But I digress…

Even though I’ve already gone on a 2nd date with Valerie and I like her and she is nice, Katsumi is kinda hot. Like when I’m with Valerie I feel calm and safe. I’m with a mature level-headed woman. But with Katsumi, I’m like giddyup!  She gets my motor running. That is the drug I love. I like Valerie and she is probably the better choice, but the heart wants what it wants, and I’m hot for Katsumi. She’s a nice looking lady, so I’m as shallow as the rest of them.

But…here’s the thing that could be the deal breaker with this babe. She said early on that she was very religious. She said Sundays are reserved for church. The whole day??? Based on my experience, religious women are just not a match for me. I am a Godless heathen. My ex-wife is very religious and that did not go well. You would think someone who was that into God would be a little nicer, but then again, all of the wars that started because of religion have killed more people than any of the wars about anything else.  So I just can’t play on that team. But, if Katsumi’s faith and beliefs are important to her, then I will respect her fairy tales. Hell, I’ll even go to church a few times if she will unlawfully lay with me in my bed of sin. (cue up: Heaven & Hell by Black Sabbath)

Anyway, that’s the only snag I see. She said maybe I could come over to Jersey next time. I told her I was down. I could do Zip Car or Patco. Whatever baby wants. I like that she said that there will be a next time.

I walked her to her mini van, (I know!) which was nice, because it gave me a little more time with her and also to check out those shapely gams. So we hugged and I sent her on her way. I told her I liked her and wanted to see her again.

Normally there is a level of euphoria when I meet someone new. But I start to review the entire date in my head and sometimes red flags pop up. Stay tuned we’ll see what happens with this one. If I don’t write about her again you’ll know I lost interest. The whole, “I’m very religious and Sunday is my church day” is really sending a strong message to me that she is not a match for me.

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday, Tuesday & Wednesday at 9am EST.

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Carol – There’s No Fun in Dysfunction – Part II

Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.

When we last left out hero, he was hanging out in his office, with Carol. Sh’e about to drop an atomic bomb on him.

So we’re at the office and she has to call her mom and go around and around with her about it for a while and I’m like, “what am I doing here? This is painful.” So I just plow the vodka into me and after a while I’m chill and can deal with her. So eventually she calmed down after talking to her mom. I know there was some talk about her and her mom making some other ring out of something and Carol getting some kind of tattoo. To me…all a waste of time but her, it’s not my family. So at one point out of the blue she says to me the following words:

“Do you think I’m fat?”

Guys… fair warning here. I’m about to tell you what to do in this situation if it ever happens to you. Because this one is a biggie. Great thing is if you are a dog owner or a pet owner of any kind, just remember, your pet will never ask you shit like this. I’m really good at navigating the treacherous waters of the emotions of the fairer sex.

Okay. This is important. Here’s what we know:

You realize there’s no way I can possibly answer this and not have her upset one way or the other. If you think you look fat but don’t look fat, and I say you don’t, you’ll think I’m lying. If you don’t think you look fat but don’t look fat, and I say you don’t, you’ll think I’m just flattering you. If you do think you look fat and you are fat, and I say you don’t, you’ll know I’m lying. If, regardless of circumstances I say you look fat, you’ll be hurt and insulted. It’s nearly an unwinnable game that no man should have the misfortune to ever have to play.

Here are some options:

“Do you think I’m fat?”

  1. Carol you are a beautiful woman and perfect just the way you are.
  2. No! (be adamant)  I think you’re gorgeous.
  3. Here’s a bracelet. (Then run away really fast)

Unfortunately… I did none of the above. Normally I’m deadly with words and deeds and diplomacy when it comes to girls but I don’t know if it was the booze, the exhaustion, or the ringing in my ears from her last tirade, or a lethal combination of all three, but I said the following:

“I suppose we all could be in a little better shape.”

Cut to: Atomic bomb exploding.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have spoken to several of my friends about this incident and everyone agrees that my answer was wrong. Dead wrong. Again, I don’t know why I said it, but it came out. If I could have somehow reached out with my hands and pulled the words back and shoved them into my stupid gaping maw, I would have. But it was too late. Well Carol got very angry and stormed out of my office and left the building in a huff. On my way home I received the following drunken text from her:

“Home… About to exercise and diet and make myself throw up to be thin. I can’t wait to have an eating disorder so I look attractive to you. By the way, I am amazed at your 6 pack and your figure, you are fit amazingly attractive God!!! You are so fit and built. Noooo extra belly fat on you! Night. Hope I lose weight so someone like you finds me attractive… But I can only hope since I’m so fat.”

That is some angry volatile shit right there.

Realizing there were several factors that came together to cause this cataclysmic explosion of rage, I decided to not respond and just let her cool off. Besides, she’s not my girlfriend. Sure I fucked up. I broke the code. It happens. But did I deserve such a wicked verbal attack? Maybe not so much. I just decided to let the cards fall where they would. A week later, I got a big apology text from her. I kind of would have liked it in person, followed by some passionate kissing but in the long run. Apology accepted. So it was business as usual with us. The occasional Saturday bar hop. She had recently secured a job out in Plymouth Meeting at a recruitment firm. Recruitment is a tough job. I know people who do it and it’s tough. They are really hard workers and understand how the employer vs employee dynamic works and locking down the talent. It isn’t much money at first but if you work your ass off and keep at it the rewards can be great, but it is a grind that takes time. Like anything with high reward.

So I knew I’d be seeing less of her and it would be a struggle based on her history to get up at the alarm every morning and drive to work and be on time everyday. Stuff I take for granted that’s easy for me is sometimes really difficult for others. But these are basic functions to stay in step with humanity. get up, go to work and do your job. Repeat. So I hope she makes it.

She had been going to my friend’s tanning salon every Sunday because I had secured a deal there for her. But the deal ran out and she stopped coming. She said she found a cheaper place on her way home from work out in Rockledge or something. No sunburned skin off my nose.  I knew I would hear less and less from her because she was busy with her work and hanging on there and probably sleeping on the weekends because believe you me getting her going before 2pm on the weekends is normally a miracle. Which brings me to the latest incident.

She reached out to me on August 23rd of last week in a text and said:

Carol: “I miss hanging out. Can we hang soon?”

Me: “I’m available Saturday.”

Carol: Ok. We should do a Carol and (My Name) Day. I called you (My Name) which I never do.”

Me: “I’m fine with that. I’ll mark my calendar.”

Carol: “But not too early.”

Me: “Of course. Mid afternoonish is cool.”

Carol: “Ok. Let’s do it. I’ll set a reminder for myself.”

Me: 🙂

Last Saturday arrived and I figured I’d get a text around 3pm and then she may make it out sometime after that. I know it sucks. It’s like the whole day is wasted instead of me and Carol. I went to visit a friend of mine at her work and chatted awhile about it. Earlier in the week some people had done the perfunctory, ” Any plans for this weekend?” and I’d say I’m going to hang with Carol. But Saturday the hands of time went round and round without a word from Carol. My friend who I had been chatting with that day said, “When that happens to me I just assume they are really hung over or dead.” That’s great, I said but I don’t like being stood up. And when I really look at my life I really don’t have time for a handful like Carol. You may start to see a trend as I go forward with this blog, but it will all make sense in the near future why this sort of nonsense happens with these women.

So I went home, fixed myself a vodka and tonic, lit a cig and continued watching the Netflix exclusive series, Stranger Things. (Great show! Check it out.)

I went to Carol’s name in my phone and blocked her.  I need to make sure I only surround myself with people who value me. I have also recently blocked her on Instagram and Facebook. So I’m done with her.

Fucking Crickets!

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday, Tuesday & Wednesday at 9am EST.

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