Madeline – 2011 – Fire and Desire

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

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Here’s one that happened a few years ago…

I met Madeline at a party thrown by friends. It was a big party. We had a great time talking and dancing for a couple of hours, and, we ended up exchanging phone numbers.

I spoke to my friends after the party, trying to find out a little more about her. They didn’t know who I was talking about, but there had been about fifty people or so there, so, it wasn’t surprising that they might not remember everyone. Shiela, my friend’s wife, said she “sort of remembers a redheaded girl arriving with some others from their office.”

A couple of days later, I called Madeline. She seemed pleased to hear from me. We chatted, and ended up making plans to meet for dinner and a show later in the week. I offered to pick her up at her apartment, but she said she didn’t live too far from the restaurant where we were going to meet, so she’d just meet me there after work.

As usual, I arrived at the restaurant first and was able to be seated right away. Madeline called my cell and said she was running about five minutes late, but would try to hurry. I thought it was very considerate of her to call especially since she was only running a few minutes late. Half an hour later, I didn’t think she was that considerate. God I hate lateness, but at least I was somewhere I could have a cocktail.

Madeline arrived at the restaurant with another couple whom she introduced as “friends from work who wanted to meet you.” She apologized for taking so long, saying that traffic had really slowed her down. I mentioned how that was weird  since the day before she’d told me she only lived five minutes away from the restaurant on foot. She laughed and said, “Oh, silly, I live close to this place but I work pretty far away.”

The couple laughed with her, and didn’t make a move to leave. As the waiter brought two more chairs to the table, Madeline said, “I hope it’s okay if they join us for dinner.” What was I supposed to say at that point? Uh…no, I really just wanted to get to know you better and having these people around just makes it harder?

 

Surprisingly, the dinner went fairly well, Madeline’s friends were pretty funny, and we laughed a lot. Once the dinner was over, I said, “Well, it was nice meeting you all, but we should get going if we’re going to make it to the theater in time for the show.”

Madeline and her friends got quiet, and started fidgeting a bit. Finally, the woman said, “Oh, I’ll ask him, you two cowards.”

I was thinking, “Great, now they want to come with us to the theater.” I couldn’t have been more wrong. The woman looked at me and continued, “We all really like you, and think you’re a great guy. Madeline, myself, and my husband would like to invite you over to our place for some games.”

“I blinked, then said, “Thanks, but, we’ve got theater tickets, and I’d hate for them to go to waste. Maybe another time.”Madeline took my hand and said, “Oh, you’ll like our games better than the theater.” Then she winked at me.

 

I was really confused, until they explained that their relationship was more than friendship. Madeline was their partner and they wanted me to join them in swinging.

I was shocked. I mean, I barely knew Madeline and here she wanted me not only to sleep with her, but…with her two friends during our FIRST date!!

I refused, saying I didn’t know them well enough to play like that. I asked Madeline if she still wanted to go with me to the theater, but she said “No, I’m in the mood to play, so we’ll just call one of our regulars.”

I ended up paying for dinner for three, then, going to the theater on my own. I still had a pretty enjoyable evening, after I gave my extra ticket to a lady standing in line. She was grateful, and assured me she wasn’t a swinger.

Nah… I’m just kidding. I gave the tickets away to a couple at a nearby table. We all split the check, and I went back to their place for an insane, sex drenched, kinky night.

Phicklephilly is a dating and relationship blog, not a sex blog. Use your imagination!

 

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

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Church – 2012 to Present – Angel’s Envy – Part 2

“Did you touch them?”
 
“Yea.”
 
“You’re killing us, Liam!”
 

Church and I step out into the warm afternoon sun. We sadly run into this little troll from the Trestle Inn that loves us both. She literally looks like she has troll or hobbit in her family. She’s awful. We hug her and it’s absolute torture for me and my comrade, but we have to be nice.
Church brings the car around and Liam and I get in. Church is doing his usual rage driving and Liam starts talking.
There is a hip crazy waitress that works at Sofitel. We all love her. She’s a tall brown-haired beauty. She has damage, but who cares, she’s pretty. Church is cranking Ozzy in the car and we’re all feeling good.
Liam goes on to tell us that he’s been to this waitress’ house to drink and she always breaks her tits out. We love and admire this lovely woman and can’t imagine her doing this.
When you go to a bar and love and respect the staff, and you suddenly hear something like this, it’s like seeing nudity in People magazine on the counter at Rite aid. When you hear about your friend and server breaking her tits out with her co workers at a party it creates all sorts of new thoughts in your mind..
We’re driving Liam to work and Church and my brains are exploding because all we can think about how his co workers tits swinging free and somehow we are there. We really like her and find it hard to believe she does shit like that. But the more we think about her and her past, we sort of pull it together.
“Did you touch them?”
“Yea.”
“You’re killing us, Liam!”
We drop off Liam at Sofitel. Church and I are laughing as he searches for a parking spot. He’s the king of finding spots in the city. I don’t know anyone that can always manage to find a great space, usually right near wherever we want to hang out.
Church decides we’re going to crash the Angel’s Envy cocktail party at Dandelion. I’m already buzzed, so I’m down for anything. We walk in and tell the hostesses we’re with the Angel’s Envy party. Without even asking who we are or if we’re on the list they tell us to head upstairs.
Upstairs at Dandelion is nice. London’s culinary revolution cames to Philadelphia with this unique gastropub. Cozy rooms and intimate bars create a storied, Old World aura, while updated seasonal takes on British food make up the menu.
The event is being held in what’s referred to as “The Dog Room.” The whole room and bar is all done up with everything canine. Pictures of dogs, and little figurines on the shelves. Even the brass rail that surrounds the front of the bar is held in place by a row of brass bulldog heads chomping down on the rail. I always said they should hide one cat in there somewhere, and if you can find it among the dozens of dogs in there, maybe you get a free drink.
Now this is a party. The owner of the brand is there, and everybody is plowing delicious food and sipping bourbon cocktails. Church is chatting with his buddy the local rep for PA.  I take a bite out of a delicious slider and take a photo of it in my hand. I send the pic to Prova and tell her she’s missing free food and drinks. I tell her to grab an UBER and get down here.
Crickets.
The owner of Angel’s Envy makes a little speech, and they pour shots of the bourbon for everyone to do a toast. Church is on the wagon, and his buddy is working, so they literally pour their shots into my glass. So when we do the toast I pound down 3 shots of bourbon in one gulp.
I run into a few people I know in the industry and chat with some attractive ladies that are also present. So since 3pm this afternoon we’ve been having a wonderful day.
So after the happy hour/party we head over to Sofitel for some quiet frivolity. The bartender that went with us to Karma earlier is there with Liam. He talks shit on Prova saying she had “an agenda” to take us to Karma. Like she had ulterior motives. I don’t like how this clown was invited to a free bourbon tasting. Ate the food, drank the cocktails, and then disappears from Karma and doesn’t even finish his drink. He just scampers off to work. Then talks smack on one of my dear friends.
But all is forgiven because I can’t control the hearts and minds of others and I’m friends with Prova, not him. I hang out with her, I drink at the bar where he works and we really come to see Liam and some of the girls that host and serve there.
(But Prova has already texted me back and says she is on her way down.)
But he tells an interesting story. He said when he was younger he was riding in the car with his family. They were in the car on their way to New York. His dad has Philly’s local rock station on. The song Iron Man by Black Sabbath came on the radio. He had never heard it before and he instantly loved it. He asks his father who sings that song. His pop says some guy named, Ozzy.
So one day when he’s 12 years old, they stop in a music store. He can’t find the song on any of Ozzy’s records. He ends up walking up to this old hippie, and asks him about the song. The hippie takes him to the section where Black Sabbath’s CD’s are located. He pulls out the album entitled Paranoid and hands it to him.
He had some birthday money from his grandparents so he bought the album and has loved Sabbath ever since.
I really liked that little story. You’ve been redeemed!
Prova shows up half in the bag. On Church’s orders he tells her to get some food. I’m happy we’re all together. Good hospitality and good people make for a lovely day!
I go out for a smoke. I run into my favorite homeless guy outside. He always tells me a joke, so I give him a dollar or two to get him something to eat.
I tell him I may start to write for One Step Away, the homeless publication here in Philly. I’m feeling drunk and get a little misty about it. He senses it and moves on to get his hamburger at McDonald’s. I watch him shuffle off down the street and around the corner. I stub out my cigarette, and walk back into the warmth of the beautiful hotel Sofitel. My friends are there and so is a crisp glass of chardonnay and free bar snacks.
My thoughts return to my homeless guy. But I smile and chat with Prova and the gang and take a sip of wine.

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

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Cheyanne – 2016 to Present – Elegant Power – Grafitti Bar

“I’m going to be in the city more, so I can see you more.”

I’ve met with Cheyanne on several occasions since our initial meeting. There seems to be a definite connection of our like minds. I wish I had built this better in some sort of progression of meetings but we’re both too busy to get our schedules together.

Cheyanne runs a business that empowers and helps entrepreneurial women build their business models and guide them to success. I works in advertising and am building a business in Rittenhouse and writing this blog. Hopefully I can pitch my stories as a series so you don’t have to read it anymore and you can watch it on Netflix in 2019.

One of the things I love about Cheyanne is that she’s positive. Being and artist that has lived his whole life in anxiety and depression I love the positivity because it is one of the things that is our cure mechanisms. It’s refreshing to meet someone who truly devotes herself to helping others and being positive every day.

Cheyanne has devoted her life to helping others and empowering women to grow, evolve and move forward in their lives. I am a man of words but I can not think if of a greater deed.

We’ve kept in touch as much as we can. She’s a busy gal. I have become great at keeping my network together and lately I have been reaching out to a few of my past ladies.

I’m always at the helm of my network and pride myself in that, but there is this one girl who whenever she’s in the city and has a little free time, she always reaches out to squeeze me in for a drink or two.

I like that.

Cheyanne will text and ask if I’m available between 4:45 and 5:45 on a random Wednesday.

She comes out of nowhere, with these days and times, and if it works, I’m there!

I’m just honored that this beauty wants to spend time with me.

So we meet at Grafitti Bar. It’s this cool outdoor space behind the Asian fusion restaurant, Sampan on 13th street. I grab a seat at the end of bar and wait for the queen to arrive. There are four empty seats to my right, so what are the chances of the bar filling up that quickly?

Cheyanne texts me that she’s running a little late but on her way. Within a few minutes, four attractive ladies take all the empty seats beside me. I chat with the bartender who has the same name as my daughter. She tells me I can move down to the other end of the bar where there are two seats open.

Then Cheyanne arrives. I’m always so happy to see her!

Of course she looks beautiful. I love her ruby tresses. Her eyes are emerald and she’s half Asian. I tell her about the blog which is a huge no no. I can’t believe I did that. I just blurted it out while telling her everything else I’m working on.

But she’s proud of my success and even picks her own blog name!

Here is this bright beautiful woman who I share ideas with and love spending time with and now she knows about the blog. There’s just something special about Cheyanne.

She’s married to a gentleman that runs his own solar energy company. I’m sure they were very successful with their business.

We discuss our past experience with Carol. (See: Carol – 2014 to 2016 – There’s No Fun in Dysfunction) Carol actually was the one who introduced me to Cheyanne. I believe at the time Cheyanne was helping her with her career. But I had to cut Carol off because she had too many mental disorders. Cheyanne just stopped answering her texts, after a while because it was all gossipy negative stuff about other people. Cheyanne is one of the most positive and uplifting people I know. She doesn’t want to surround herself with negative people.

We chit-chat and sip our wine. It’s always great to catch up with Cheyanne. The place is filling up for happy hour and it’s getting noisy. Her 6pm appointment shows up. I actually know the girl. She owns a start-up that created cookie cups. It’s a cup you can put things in, like ice cream coffee or alcohol, and then you can eat the cup.

Check it out here: http://www.chocamo.com/

Cheyanne says she’s going to be in the city more so she can see me more. I’m fine with that because I enjoy her company. We say our farewells and I’m off to meet up with Church at Sofitel. (See: Church – 2012 to Present – Seizure Salad)

The place is too noisy now for the girls to have their meeting so we walk out onto 13th street. They head north to find a more quiet spot to chat.

I hang a left on Sansom and head West to meet up with Church who’s sitting at the Liberte’ bar four blocks away.

“I’m going to be in the city more, so I can see you more.” Her words roll around in my head.

 

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

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Phicklephilly – Night of the Huntress – 2017

The lady is sitting at her table sipping her drink, and giving me and Church the eye. Church pegs her for an “entrepreneur.” That’s what he calls escorts and hookers.

I was having a good evening at the salon. All of the sunbeds were working, we even got the washer and dryer up and running. Some of my favorite ladies came in to tan and I could feel that things were starting to fall into place at the new address. Achilles even stopped in with Sharon, so he could do a few things and she could go tanning.

I had gotten a text from my friend Alice, (See: Alice – 2011 to Present – The Cute Recruiter) saying she wanted to meet up for a drink. I was already meeting with my buddy Church (See: Church – 2012 to Present – Brand Ambassador) so I told her to meet me at Sofitel after 8pm.

I close up the salon and head to Sofitel. When I get there she’s already at the bar having drinks with her friend Bob. I’ve met him before he’s a really nice guy. Works in IT, makes good money, but no game when it comes to the ladies. I find out Alice’s company, which will find you a job and a date completely hooked him up with some dates, and number three girl was the charm. It sounds like Bob sort of has a girlfriend now.

Things are going well at Alice’s company. if you’ve been reading this blog you’ll know that her friend Keila has left the company after a year or so to pursue other interests. Alice and Bob are hungry and ask if I am too. I’m not that hungry but she says she’s starving and putting it all on her corporate card. So I tell her I’m famished if she insists.

Church arrives and as promised and he makes delivery on another bottle he promised me. A bottle of the Macallan 17-year-old scotch. It’s a fantastic bottle, and 17 is my family’s reoccurring lucky number. They don’t even make this scotch anymore. It’s a $250 bottle of scotch. Did I mention that I love Church?

We’ve been coming to Sofitel more lately and Church is friends with the bartender, Liam and we’re getting the hook up on drinks. To explain what the “hook up” is, it’s when you have a bunch of cocktails and you get the bill and it’s $11. Then you just tip the bartender handsomely with cash. So instead of getting a bill that’s up to $40,  you only spend around $25 and the bartender gets a better tip. You can’t abuse it but you have to get to know them and become a regular, and you get the hook up all over town.

Alice and Bob have to get to another gig, so after devouring cheese steak tacos and fries and cocktails, she says they have to bolt. She pays for everything and off they go. That was awesome. Free round of drinks and dinner and now I can focus on my time with Church.

So this younger guy wearing a wool hat comes into the lounge and takes a seat at a table by himself. He appears to be waiting for someone. We assume a blind or Tinder date.

In a little while this attractive woman in her thirties glides into the room. She walks over to the gentleman sitting at the table. We assume that his date has arrived. But something just doesn’t feel right. Turns out that those two are not together, and after a brief exchange, she moves to a table adjacent to the bar. I’m on the end closest to her, and Church is to my left.

The lady is sitting at her table sipping her drink, and giving me and Church the eye. Church pegs her for an “entrepreneur.” That’s what he calls escorts and hookers. This chill black guy enters the bar and sort of just hangs back behind us. He obviously works there at the hotel. He’s definitely security. So we start joking with him about hooker patrol. We don’t look over at her while we’re doing this because we don’t want to make it obvious that we’re on to her.

Hat guy’s date shows up and joins him at his table. I look over. Not bad. Decent legs, curly black hair. After a drink or two, they pay their bill and leave. The entrepreneur, keeps smiling at me and making eyes. We’re still all talking about her at the bar, Liam and one of theservers have her pegged for a pro.

I’m ready to go out and have a smoke. We leave our coats on our chairs and the bag containing the $250 bottle of scotch. We’re just outside the building. Within a minute the lady comes running out to tell us we forgot our coats. I tell her we’re coming right back after I smoke. I thank her for her concern and she goes back in.

We head back in, and I’m chatting up the hot server Laura. We’re talking about scratch offs and she’s telling me how she’s trying to break up with the doctor she’s currently dating because she feels she should be dating someone her own age. She’s only 25 and this guy is into his 40’s.  She’s keeping her options open and he keeps buying her stuff, because that’s what guys with money do for younger hot women they like sleeping with.

The assumed hooker hasn’t paid her bill yet and Laura is getting nervous because she’s her guest. Laura thinks she’s going to run out on her bill, because now she’s moved to a table by the exit. But then the lady comes up to the bar to pay her tab. I’m sure at this point the only reason she did that is she thought one of us may strike up a conversation.

We’re all holding our breath to see if the card clears. It goes through okay, and as she’s leaving, she leans in to me, touches my arm and whispers, “I think you are very cute!”

We’re a little stunned, as she is walking out she turns and says that she’ll be back in a little bit. After she’s gone we all have a good laugh about the whole show that just unfolded before us.

A little while later, I’m well into my 3rd chardonnay, the entrepreneur returns. She starts giving me the eye again and I’m wondering where she’s been. I decide to go upstairs to the restroom and pray I’m not followed. Church texts me that she has attached herself to some Archie Andrews/Beeker  type from the Muppet Show guy at the bar. He’s eating this enormous club sandwich at the bar so he looks like an easy target to her.

Then this skater boy type comes walking up to me, singing a song about how he can’t find his waitress. He hands me his credit card. “You seem to have an honest face. I have to pay for my brother and my drink.” I’m surprised and sing back to him that I’ll make every effort to find his server.

Laura pops out from the back and I tell her what’s up, and the guy will be right back, he had to give his brother directions to the hotel. She looks surprised, but takes his card and runs it. The skater returns and she gives him his bill and off he goes.

We move down to the other end of the bar, and then this odd-looking older fellow comes in. He’s wearing what appears to be a red racing jacket with matching shoes and driving gloves.

Church says to me: “Welcome… to Fantasy Island.”

The guy orders some weird drink with some sort of Whiskey, B & B and some olives. I’ve never seen or heard of it before. We don’t talk to the guy. He just seems too weird and eccentric. It’s been a bizarre and fun night.

Or as Church and I call it, “Wednesday night.”

 

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

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Daphne – 2014 to Present – Lovely Hostess – Hello Again

I felt a little tap on my shoulder. I turned and there was the lovely visage of Daphne. I was still reeling from my sweet encounter with Lara, that seeing Daphne pushed me to the next level of euphoria.

I ran into little hostess Daphne from Square 1682 again, but first this little myth.

The story of Daphne is an example of an etiological myth, one that is strongly explanatory of why certain things in their culture were a certain way.

There are many examples of Greek myths that explain why certain religious rituals were performed, why some people’s may be named what they are, or even why varying objects, plants and animals were symbols of their gods.

The gods were known for punishing mortals for offending them, but occasionally they punished each other. The gods were a vengeful folk, and they did not take kindly to being insulted, by mortal or god. Apollo made the mistake of insulting one of his fellow immortal.

Apollo was a great archer, but sometimes he was a little full of himself. One day he caught sight of Eros, the son of Aphrodite. Eros was also an archer, and his arrows were responsible for instilling the twists and turns of love and lust in a person’s heart. Apollo teased young Eros, putting down his abilities as an archer, claiming that one so small could make no difference with his arrows.

Angry at this insult, Eros shot two arrows, one tipped in gold, one blunted and tipped with lead. The arrow dipped in gold had the power to create insatiable lust in a person, while the other created absolute abhorrence towards all things romantic and passionate. The unfortunate soul who was struck with that arrow would have no desire to love anyone. The arrow dipped in gold struck Apollo, but the arrow dipped in lead struck fair Daphne.

Daphne was the daughter of the river-god Peneus. Apollo chased down the maiden, desperate for her love, but she wanted nothing to do with him, and she ran from him endlessly. Soon, she grew weary in her running and that Apollo would ultimately catch her. Fearful, she called out to her father for help. As all gods of water posses the ability of transformation, Peneus transformed his daughter into a laurel tree. Suddenly her legs took root, and her arms grew into long and slender branches.

Apollo reached the laurel tree, and, still enamored with Daphne, held the tree in a special place in his heart. He claimed the tree as his special tree, and adorned himself with some of its leaves. And that is why the laurel was, and still is, a symbol of the god Apollo.

 

I had just finished chatting and flirting with sweet Lara upstairs at the salon. (See: Sun Stories – Lara – 2016 to Present – Tinderella) I came downstairs, locked the door and stood for a moment on Walnut street. Normally I would just head down the street and go home, but for some reason I just stood there taking in the sounds of the city at night.

I felt a little tap on my shoulder. I turned and there was the lovely visage of Daphne.  I was still reeling from my sweet encounter with Lara, that seeing Daphne pushed me to the next level of euphoria. I chatted with her and told her this is where the salon was and that she should come tanning. She said she never had, but may want to try it. I told her about how it was important to get a base tan before she goes on her next adventure. (She loves to travel)

I described the benefits and handed her a free tanning card. I think when I told her I’d put her in the best bed in the house she was sold. In my heart I would love to take her to another bed that has benefits beyond her imagination.

I love Daphne. I have loved her since I first laid eyes on her over two years ago. That beautiful face and low voice just melts me.

But I don’t really love Daphne. I love her in the true phicklephilly sense. I’m in love with the idea of her and beauty. One is in my mind, and the other is simply good genetics on her part. She had nothing to do with that.

She’ll probably never come tanning. She’ll also never meet me for a drink or lunch or anything. I know she has time, but she won’t ever do it. It doesn’t really bother me, because we’re not romantically involved. If we haven’t met up for even one drink in the two years I’ve known her, it’s not happening. She’s young and beautiful and I’m sure being hit on by dozens of suitors of both sexes on a weekly basis.

I’ll keep getting butterflies in my stomach and my heart will flutter when she appears, but I’ll just have to settle for that. She may as well be an elegant tree that I can occasionally stand beside, but can never take her away with me.

 

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

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Sun Stories – Lara – 2016 to Present- Tinderella

How did I match up with a 19-year-old girl?

Here’s a little tale about a hot baby that comes into the salon. She’s got long raven hair, light eyes, and a slamming little body on her. She’s 19 years of age and goes to Temple University. She always wears black, but it just makes her look darker and more mysterious.

She comes in pretty regularly before Spring Break. She wants to get her base tan built up so when she goes away she won’t burn.

She’s attractive and sweet, and sometimes looks a little stoned when she comes in, but that somehow makes her lovely eyes more limpid. I chat with her regularly, and last year I saw her quite often.

But one day she comes in and we’re chatting, and I feel like I know her from somewhere else. But I can’t quite figure out where. Facebook? Instagram? Maybe. We’re not friends, and don’t have any friends in common so that’s not a thing.

I search my memory to try to remember where I know her or have seen her before, but I can’t think of anything. Maybe I’m just in love with her soft beauty and I’m creating all of this in my mind.

That weekend, I’m lying in bed, looking at all of my past contacts on Tinder to see if I can resurrect a lost connection and get a date. Then I suddenly come upon a woman I matched with named Lara. Oh God, It’s her! How did I match up with a 19-year-old girl? Why would she swipe right? I’m obviously too old for her. She’s younger than my daughter! On Tinder she says she’s 22. It doesn’t make sense. I swipe right on everybody that comes up, just for the sheer numbers and stories.

The next time Lara comes in I decide to take a chance. One of our rules is no dating the customers. I will never break that rule, and there is no way Lara wants me. I mean, she may be looking for a sugar daddy, and for that I would almost pay to sleep with her, but I digress.

But I have to find out.

When she comes out from the room, she comes by the counter and asks if she has any tans left. I tell her she’s out. Lara’s fine with that because she tells me she’s going on Spring Break anyway Friday. I whip out my phone and pull up Tinder and start swiping through her pictures.

“Now we’ve all made mistakes, and swiped right when we obviously should have swiped left. I’ve done it myself, Lara. But is that you?”

I turn the phone to her and swipe through her pics on Tinder.

She’s alarmed but not upset. (Probably too stoned)

“Don’t be embarrassed, we all make mistakes, Lara.”

“I have a weird thing. Age doesn’t matter to me.”

Her words shocked me, and I thought she has to be a sugar baby and worlds are colliding right now.

“Don’t worry about it, Lara.”

I don’t know why I just didn’t ask her if she made “arrangements.” She had to go and before she left, she asked, “What’s your name again?”

I told her. I’m sure she wants to go look for my profile on Tinder to see what’s up. She’ll probably unmatch and delete me out of sheer embarrassment.

Later I go into Tinder and text her the following message: “Hello, Lara. Please don’t be embarrassed, it’s (my name) from the salon. If you’d like to chat, that would be fine. No expectations.”

Crickets.

————————————————————-

So a year goes by and it’s March and Spring Break is once again upon us. We’ve moved the salon and people are beginning to trickle in. But, because we just got here, there are only 3 beds currently operating. One stand up unit, and the two premium beds.

When sweet baby Lara comes in and wants to tan, I remember her name of course and chat with her a bit. I thank her for returning to us for her tan. She is surprised I remember her name after all of this time, but I tell her she must have made a favorable impression on me.

“That and we have a little history.” she says.

I know she’s eluding to the Tinder match! So exciting!

“And we share the same birthday, Lara. August 9th!” (NOT a bold-faced lie for once!)

Of course her birth year is ’97 and mine is ’62.

“Oh my god, we’re both Leos! I can’t believe it.” she exclaims.

She doesn’t know that we’re putting everybody in any bed available just to maintain a level of service. No matter if they have the basic, all access, or premium package, we’re just tanning them in anything we can. So when I put Lara in the best unit in the house, she thinks I’m doing something special for her because I like her.

I do like her but she doesn’t need to know that everybody’s getting what she’s getting. She doesn’t know where to throw her little towel that we’ve provided so she just hands it to me. But before she does, she wipes her nose with it. I don’t say anything and simply toss it into the small hamper behind me.

She thanks me for the best tanning experience and off she goes.

——————————————————————

The next time she came in was the day before she was to fly to Florida for Spring Break. She was literally my last client of the night. But when I go to send her into a bed to tan I see that her package has run out. She’s out of tanning sessions!

Lara gets upset and asks how much it is for one tan. I tell her $17 and she’s shocked. She then asks if there is anything I can do.

Now at this point I know that some of you may be thinking and this story will take a dark turn.

“How much cash do you have?”

Digs through her purse. “Seven bucks.”

I make a face.

“I’ll give you two cigarettes.”

“Four.”

“Okay, Four. Here. Now can I tan?”

“Yes. Go back to room 6.”

I watch her as she strolls back to the tanning booth and closes the door behind her. I put the four cigarettes into my pack. I then pull out my wallet, and grab a ten-dollar bill and ring up the $17.00 single session. I put the money in the drawer. Legitimate sale completed. (You didn’t think I was going to barter a tan for sex did you?)

Then I hear her call my name.

“Yes Lara?”

“My phone is nearly dead. Can I hand it out to you so you can charge it for me, please?”

“Sure. Put it into airplane mode so it’ll charge twice as fast, Lara.”

I walk back to the room and she opens the door. She has her forearm and hand across her bare breasts covering herself. She looks me right in the eyes. Then with her other hand she passed the phone and charger out to me. She smiles and closes the door. That little minx!

So a nice little glimpse that I’m sure was an additional little tip for my service. My heart is pounding as I walk back to the counter and plug-in her phone. I grab a little cloth and wipe off the phone and clean it up nice for her.

When her tanning session is complete, she emerges from the room looking radiant.

“Thank you sooo much for everything you’ve done for me!”

I give her the phone and we even laugh about the Tinder incident.

“I’m not embarrassed about anything” she says.

She seems high. She hands me her sweaty towel like last time instead of dropping it in the hamper.

“Oh… sorry. Is that gross?” she says looking at the spent towel in my hand.

“No, Lara. It’s not gross. What’s gross is when you first wiped your nose off with it before handing it to me last time.”

She looks mortified. “Oh my god. Did I do that? I’m so sorry.”

“I’m just kidding, Lara. That didn’t happen.”

She cracks up and we have a nice laugh about it.

“Okay, well I’m headed to Florida tomorrow. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

She leans in and gives me a hug and a kiss, I hug her back and somehow my lips end up kissing her hair. She smells lovely and I’m feeling giddy.

She heads downstairs, and I watch as she disappears out the door into the night.

 

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

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Stacy Moscotti – Why You’ll Never Make It To The First Date.

I’m just a very go go go kind of woman and so slowing down has been very challenging for me.

Here is an interesting one. You would think she’d be a perfect match for me, but once you’ve been doing this as long as I have you can sniff out the crazies. A year ago I would have met with her, but now… no dice.

 

Her profile on the online dating site Bumble:

Stacy, 38

Miracle Worker and Victorious badass at Stacy Moscotti

Duke University 2000

Location: Upper Darby, Pennsylvania, – 7.2 miles away

Info: I am a woman lit up by life. I love the journey and am looking for someone who wants an extraordinary connection. Passionate, joyful, committed to self-improvement. Currently obsessed with karate, conversations, and empowering contexts. Divorced mom of a 7-year-old daughter with no baggage or drama.

(Really? My ex-wife was an over achiever with low self-esteem because she never felt her father loved her, and always said that our marriage should be exemplary. I know when you set the bar too high with anyone, you’re always destined to fail and be disappointed)

Stacy: Hello! Pleasure to meet you!

Me: You had me at ‘victorious badass.’

Stacy: Hey, greetings from the other side of a sudden debilitating illness that knocked me out for a week. I’m so sorry for not writing back – I love what you wrote…

(She’s referring to my standard profile bio)

(I’ll correct all of her grammatical errors and misspellings for the sake of this post. Which are incredibly abundant.)

(Stacy then goes on to write this rant.)

Stacy: Shortly after I wrote you on Sunday night I started not feeling too well and I went to bed. I woke up with a fever of 103 (maybe higher, my thermometer tops out at 103) and thus began where I am today, on my sixth day of bed rest after contracting an acute and severe bacterial infection.

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday were rough, I turned the corner yesterday when the fever finally broke and  here I am today, dizzy and a little weak still but so much better.

Although what makes this Friday great is that I finally have the energy to go back online and see all of the fun that I have missed 🙂

So hello and happy Friday and I totally understand if you took my silence as thinking I’m not interested or ghosting or whatever people call it these days. Please, please believe me that it was not that at all and I got very…

Wait is today, Saturday? Oh goodness, I’m so lost on the days right now!!!

Anyway, whatever day it is, I hope you write back (smiley face) and we can get to know each other.

Me: OMG you poor girl! I’m so sorry! I hope you’re feeling better. I feel like I should bring you some ginger ale, saltine crackers and flowers! I was wondering what happened to you!

(A bold-faced lie. I really don’t give a shit. I already know she’s crazy as a shithouse rat. Nobody unloads like that on a dating app talking to a stranger for the first time.)

Stacy: All of those things sound WONDERFUL and very sweet 🙂 How has your weekend been, (my name)?

Me: Went well. Mission accomplished.

Stacy: Fantastic. You an early riser 🙂 What missions were accomplished? For me even being sick I threw my daughter her 7th birthday on Saturday and then went back to bed rest 🙂

Me: Sorry you aren’t feeling well. I was just saying I had a good weekend.

(Another bold-faced lie. I had an exciting weekend up to my usual deviltry, but I can’t tell her that.)

Stacy: I’m almost better 🙂 much to look forward to this week! I’m glad you had a good weekend!!

(Too many exclamation points.)

Me: What’s hot for you this weekend?

Stacy: my daughter’s 7th birthday is on friday. Mostly this week is me catching up on everything that I was unable to fulfill on last week due to illness and then this weekend I’m taking a course on communication. I hope to be able to go back to karate and dance this week. 🙂 And everyone’s telling me not to push myself and relapse or make myself sicker or something like that. I’m just a very go go go kind of woman and so slowing down has been very challenging for me.

(Anytime I ever hear about a woman being a “Go Go Go” kind of woman the red flags proudly wave and I know she’s either incredibly lonely or manic.)

Me: Wow. That’s a lot to absorb. It’s always good to rest during an illness and allow the body to heal.

Stacy: I know! if I could, I’d rest another three days. I need to go to work though. My friends (who I’m helping out right now) have been very understanding.

Me: What type of work do you do?

Stacy: I own my own business and do freelance consulting and sales work.What do you do?

Me: I work in advertising and I’m opening a fitness center here in the city.

(I didn’t want to mention my writing because that would just open up too many questions.)

Stacy: Fantastic!!! That’s exciting about the fitness center. I was in advertising for a stint there, 🙂

(Too many exclamation points and smileys. Is this woman in a constant state of euphoria?)

Me:  What are you seeking on here?

Stacy: I love that question (my name) 🙂 I’m seeking a stimulating connection. Something more than physical.

(Ugh…Here we go…)

Stacy: Physical connection is easy. What I’m seeking is the connection of mind, heart, spirit, and soul. I want a connection that lights me up. Challenges me, allows me to contribute, has amazing communication, and makes me feel brave and safe at the same time. 🙂

Stacy: What about you? What are you seeking on here?

Me: Same. We should meet up. (Bold faced lie)

I’m going to simply unmatch with this woman. Clearly based on her profile and statements there’s a reason she’s alone. I just don’t care for this type of lady. Too intense. Unrealistic sense of reality. Also the company she works for is some sort of weight loss thing. Apparently she put on like 65 lbs, and then lost it all and we’re all supposed to applaud her for not stuffing her face like a farm animal anymore.

I went to her site that is strangely linked to the dating site. I wouldn’t want any random right swiper getting into my shit. Stacy is 38 and has a 7-year-old daughter. That means she hit the “30-year-old panic have a kid age” and made that happen. But due to her crazy behavior and apparent eating disorder, she ran her husband off years ago.

This is a classic OCD, possible bi-polar, eating disorder, esteem issues, manic-depressive dating profile. I have collected some pics from her profile and given them the appropriate titles to describe what it would be like if I ever dated this woman.

 

I call this one : “Chasing me through the woods with a machete” because it didn’t seem like I was “listening to her enough.”

 

 

Here is another pic of her with her fists up in a karate gi right before she throat punches me for not doing her laundry right.

 

 

Here is another where she is laughing maniacally as red leaves fall around her that makes me think of my house being blown up with me and Lorelei in it by this lunatic.

 

The creepiest one is her with this evil smile that makes me think if she had Joker make up on, I would have to put up the Bat Signal.

Are you as frightened as I am? Good! Because you should be. That is some crazy, scary ass shit!

If I were ever to date her I envision that smile as the last thing I see as she pushes the pillow over my face just 3 months into our relationship because I said her casserole was “a little salty.”

I’ve been at this long enough to know that I need to steer clear of “Go Go Go Girls” of any kind.

Oh, one final thing. This lady has a blog. So even after everything I said about her and how I’d NEVER date anyone like this woman, at least I’m helping to promote her blog. She listed her full name on her Bumble profile so it’s public knowledge.

You can catch more of the craziness here:

http://stacymoscotti.com/about/

Cut to: Her shooting at me as I climb a rope ladder into an awaiting helicopter that has come to chopper me out of this nightmare before it has a chance to ever happen. Bullets scream past my head as I scramble into the bird and scream, Go! Go! Go!

 

 

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

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