Zoey – Yours are Black…

I now know every cost approximation of at least 12 different clothing pieces from 3 designers I have never heard of.

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I had been texting this lovely woman I had met on Tinder last winter, who could actually hold a conversation really well, so we decide to meet up. She resembles the stock photo I have provided. I’m just going to say, ‘In her twenties’ for the age. 5’6″. Long chocolate tresses, olive skin, and dark sultry eyes. She told me she works as a model here in Philly at Reinhardt. I have a history with a certain former Reinhardt model, (See: Michelle – A Brand New Day) so I know the talent. Plus, I’ve been described as a modelizer. (Sex in the City)

I’ve only written a blow-by-blow like this once before, (See: Marisa – 2017 to Present – Where the Hell are You? – Part II) but I feel this tale warrants it.

7:00 p.m. – Show up at her place, she isn’t 50 lbs heavier than her picture, doesn’t have a beard or Adam’s apple, and hasn’t tried to ax murder me yet. She’s actually really hot. Chemistry is great, and we actually start making out before our UBER pulls away from the curb. So far so good, Tinder.

7:15 – In the car, things are fine, she’s talking a lot about her modeling job, which is cool.

7:30 – Arrive at ice rink at City Hall and race each other to the ice. This is fun.

7:35 – So we’re there and she’s still going about her local modeling career and all the free things the vendors and designers give her. Thrifty, cool.

8:45 – Been skating for a while, I now know about the process of applying “runway makeup”, the time constraints and approximations of changing outfits depending on the number of pieces, and how to adjust hip tilt and swing, during a catwalk if your clothing piece is top-heavy vs. a long train. I now know every cost approximation of at least 12 different clothing pieces from 3 designers I have never heard of.

8:50 – She can’t talk if she’s eating, so I suggest we get food.

9:00 – We arrive at the place she suggested. It has 40ft high wooden vaulted ceilings with hanging sheer fabric for ambiance and the swankiest fucking bar I’ve ever seen.

9:03 – Sitting down. She’s been bragging for a bit, that despite being a model, she has never done cocaine. Fuck, the prices are steep, I’ll just have a soda and a salad. She knows everything on the menu by name and what it should be paired with.

9:30 – I’m gritting my teeth at this point and exhaling. (I once did this for two hours when I was dragged to see the Sex in the City 2 movie, which is an absolute piece of shit by the way) I would really like some cocaine. (I’ve never done cocaine)

10:20 – Michael Kors ain’t got shit on me for knowledge of the fashion industry.

10:30 – I have no idea what she ordered but the bill is $105 plus tip. She asks if we should go and I say yes. She makes no attempt to pull out her wallet, so I bite the tab, trying to conceal my rage.

10:40 – I’m not too impressed with the date, but being the gentleman I am, walk her to the door. She asks if I want to come in.

10:41 – I meet her mother, in a bathrobe, completely unfazed by my presence. She asks if I know how to fix a light socket. What the fuck?

10:47 – Light socket is fixed.

10:50 – In her room, score!

 

11:10 – She has taken me through every lotion and perfume and tin of makeup and brush on her vanity and told me the brand, the list price, and how much she actually got it for.

11:20 – She’s almost finished telling me the brand, location of purchase, and price of every shirt, skirt, pair of pants, and jacket in her closet. She is upset that her friend “stole” a bracelet from her 2 weeks ago, she wonders if I would help her look for it.

11:35 – She is literally crying, with tears down her cheeks, because I could not find the “stolen” bracelet behind, under, in her dresser/vanity/bathroom/bed/closet/night stand/carpet. (If it was stolen why did she ask me to look for it in her room?)

11:40 – She has stopped crying and suggests we watch a movie.

11:45 – Pay-Per-View, or something, Evil Cabin Zombies in the Woods Dead #17?

12:00am – Extensive commentary on the superior quality of acting begins, and ensues for the duration of the movie but she says she has a knot in her back and wants me to massage it out.

 

12:30 – Her shirt is off and she is dead set on me massaging out a very specific knot on her left shoulder which does not exist. (Whatever. Her shirt is off)

1:00 – Movie ends, my arms are getting sore, been kissing her neck and shoulders for a while, have not been able to get her to:

A) shut up.

B) turn over.

C) actively engage said kisses.

1:03 – Sequel to movie begins.

2:00 – She starts participating in the making out stuff, and politely tells me that for religious reasons she is saving her virginity until marriage. I completely understand, when it comes to faith beliefs like that, I respect whatever choices you make, cool, no hassle, and we start fooling around. I respect other peoples fairy tales.

2:30 – She lets me go down on her. I’m excited, I’ve finished her off about 2 or 3 times, I feel like a champ, but I’m still completely clothed and have not been touched in any way, shape, or form. As I’m still being all sexy-like, I casually say, “What about me?”

2:31 – She informs me that the bathroom is right over there, and tells me I can take care of myself in the shower. I think I’ll just hold it. (WTF?)

2:45 – We’ve been silent, cuddling. Hey, this is nice, I love cuddling, she is comfy, and she’s not talking, this is good.

2:50 – Out of silence, she whispers, “I see demons. Yours are black.”

2:52 – I shit myself. (Not literally) Maybe I could make it out that window.

3:00 – I learn that my demons are angry, and she is scared of them. She tells me that she has been exorcised on two occasions and it’s helped a lot. I don’t inquire as to how much, precisely.

3:05 – I try to be supportive because this doesn’t seem like the kind of thing you just go around telling everybody, and more or less keep my mouth shut. God I want to try cocaine.

3:10 – Sleep for her, another hour of being stiff as a board, and scared before I pass out.

9:00am – Her mother knocks and I, all 5’10 170 lbs of me, attempts to hide under the blankets. Mother comes in and nonchalantly tells her that they are going to a friend’s house for dinner. Asks her if the older gentleman under the blanket wants to come.  I decline. I tell her I have to go return some overdue books at the library.

9:15am – I leave to return some overdue library books.

 

 

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

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Cherie – Chapter 4 – Ribbons

Cherie is coming around the corner of one of the display racks. She is very close to me. I kiss her. She smiles and keeps going.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you today.”

“I know.”

Cherie and I had been keeping in touch through text since our 1st date. She’s just been busy working and going to school. I have been meaning to send her some scary movie ideas, but there isn’t much out there right now. Her favorite is John Carpenter’s Halloween. I made the theme her ringtone in my phone. So every time I get a text from her it plays. It’s weird and fun.

One of my texts was asking when I could see her again. She asked what my schedule looked like and I provided it to her. She said Saturdays were perfect, but she wanted to see if we could schedule something sooner. I liked that she said that. We decided on an early lunch on Tuesday. We were to meet at 11am for Taco Tuesday at El Rey. She had to be at class up at Temple by 2pm so that gave us plenty of time.

We had been in touch up until the day. I sent her pics from my weekend at the shore. I saw this amazing moonrise and sent her a photo. She asked if I was trying to make her jealous. I was secretly trying to get her to think about how great it was there. Maybe I can take her there sometime if things work out.

So Tuesday arrives and I head up to El Rey. I get there at 11am and they’re not open. I sit down on the bench outside. I go on my phone and look up their hours. They don’t open until 11:30. I text Cherie to let her know that I’ve arrived. She arrives at 11:15. She looks great. I’ll get to her outfit in a minute. She apologizes for being late. I laugh and tell her that El Rey doesn’t open until 11:30, so technically she is 15 minutes early!

She asks me what I want to do. I tell her there’s another place about a block away that also celebrates Taco Tuesday and I’m sure they’re open. She’s fine with that. We walk down to Drinkers Pub at 20th and Chestnut. I pull on the door. Locked. How is Drinkers not open yet either? I tell her we could wait or just walk back to El Rey, because if I have to choose I’d like to take her to the better place for lunch. She’s fine with that too. I again notice how laid back this California born beauty is. She’s always so chill and agreeable all the time. I love that. I have been around enough high-strung, crazy, hyperactive women for one lifetime. It’s truly refreshing.

We get back to El Rey and go in. I announce that we’re first. I love being first. Oh, let me get back her outfit. Black shoes with a nice solid heel. She’s 5’5″ so it makes her  almost my height. She has tight olive slacks, and is wearing a dark green and burgundy colored light jacket. But here is the amazing part that I didn’t initially notice. She’s wearing a long sleeve black shirt that has a deep V neck. It’s cut all the way down to her mid belly. There are criss-cross pieces of fabric all the way down.

Exactly like this:

Image result for low cut black v neck with criss cross

 

Fantastic. Sexy as hell. I can clearly see the swell of her breasts, and there is no way she’s wearing a bra. You can’t wear a bra with this top. I love it.

“You’re wearing that to class today, young lady?” She smiles. I try not stare but I do occasionally steal a little glance during lunch. The weather has been unseasonably warm lately. She says she was outside with her son the night before and the mosquitos apparently love her. I tell her it’s probably because she’s so sweet. She says that’s what her mom used to say to her. She always gets bitten up and they leave itchy welts all over her. She shows me one near her eyebrow. She says she was going to wear a skirt today but her legs are covered in little mosquito bites. Damn those pesky insects for denying me a view of those legs. I remember her telling me about how she played basketball and ran track in high school. Her pants are tight and I can clearly see that her landing gear is solid.

Lunch was great. The restaurant was ours for about a half hour until the lunch crowd kicked in. It got a little noisy, but not that bad. The staff was attentive and the food was good. We drank only sparkling water, but I did have one mango margarita. It wasn’t frozen but not bad. It tasted like there was hardly any alcohol in it. I let her taste it. She said she really doesn’t drink that much. Normally she sticks to beer. Two drinks and she’s tipsy, she claims. Noted. But when she was younger she says she smoked a lot of marijuana. Nothing special with pipes or bongs, just joints. I told her like coffee, I could take or leave weed. If I never had it again I wouldn’t care. I don’t mention my love for booze.

The conversation flows about what we’ve been up to for the last two weeks. Her work and school. She spends most of her waking hours working or studying. I tell her about my weekend at the shore with my siblings. Cleaning out the attic of the shore house, and getting Sam’s Pizza on the Wildwood boardwalk. About how my sister’s dog got out of the yard Saturday night, and how he was missing for two hours until we finally caught him. I toss out the idea that maybe we could go to the movies this Saturday. She seems interested.

It was a beautiful day in October so we decide after lunch to take a walk around the park in Rittenhouse Square. Notice I didn’t mention the bill? Oh… I just mentioned it. Damn. Let me put it this way. Valerie (Valerie – Love me Tinder) is 55 years old. She has her own apartment. She is CFO at a music school. She owns a rental property in Swarthmore, PA. Cherie is 26. Mother of a 6-year-old. Works two jobs, and goes to school for Neuroscience at Temple. There’s a difference! A BIG difference. I happily paid the damn bill!

We walk around Rittenhouse for a while and then wander down Walnut Street. We go into the Halloween store to look at all of the stuff. As I walk through the store and look at all of the costumes I think of what a good couples costume would be for us. Could I dress up as Bowie and she could be Iman? Could Cherie be the Sally Hemmings to my Thomas Jefferson?

We both notice that most of the costumes for girls are all sexy. I know everybody has covered that but it’s so true. I say something about a plaid skirt and she asks if I like that. I laugh and say who doesn’t? It’s if she knows something about me and our obvious age difference. I mean, her last guy of 8 years was way older than she was and my last two girlfriends were younger than I was, so it firmly stands to reason that it’s the case.  She smiles and continues to browse. She looks at a couple of costumes. Pausing at Nile Princess and Cleopatra, which I obviously approve. She says maybe she’ll be an Indian this year. Now I’m thinking of Pocahontas and John Smith. That would totally work. Much better than Plantation Owner and… well, I’ll stop there with the horrible jokes.

She is coming around the corner of one of the display racks. She is very close to me. I kiss her. She smiles and keeps going.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you today.”

“I know.”

I don’t know how I feel about that. Her knowing my thoughts and intentions? She’s smarter than I thought. We wander around the store a bit more and then leave. It’s getting to be time for her to go to class.

We stroll back through Rittenhouse. This time she remembers where she parked her Saab. We walk over to 20th and Locust. The car is out front of the Catholic Church there. She’s standing close to me and I’m looking at her. She’s checking her GPS in her phone to see how long it will take her to get to Temple. I lean in and kiss her neck. Twice. Her skin is so soft. I really like her.

“I have to go.” she says. “So Saturday?”

“Umm.. Yes! I’ll see what’s playing at the movies and find out if anything that we’d like is showing.”

She says that sounds good as she kisses me on the lips. I hold her for a moment and steal a second kiss. She smiles, gets in her car and off she goes to school.

I light a cig. (I don’t smoke around non-smoking girls I want to kiss) I head over to work at the salon. I figure I’ll wait until tonight to thank her for making time with me today. Don’t want to seem to urgent. I work at the spa from 3 to 8pm. I get this text from her at 5pm. “Guess who dissected a pig today?”

“You’re awesome! Good thing you didn’t order pork at lunch today!”

“Lol that’s true!” she says. “I felt bad for the poor piggy, but my partner made me do all of the cutting. You’re awesome too.”

I liked that last part. The next day, I told her I had found a potential scary movie we could go see. I sent it to her. She responded that it looked okay and we could go to that. Then she says: “I don’t get scared easily lol but it seems okay to me. You’ll probably hold on to me during the scary parts, lol.”

“Then I hope it’s really scary.”

So we’ll see how it goes on our 3rd date on Saturday. I really like this girl and I hope she sticks around.

 

 

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Tales of Rock – Britney Spears

Comedian Neil Hamburger once joked, “Why did Britney Spears get so addicted to cocaine? Because Kevin Fed-Her-Lines!” This is, perhaps, unfair, but it’s hard to deny that Spears becoming Mrs. Kevin Federline coincided with her sad descent into drug addiction, mental illness and a near total career flame-out.

It once seemed impossible or at least extremely unlikely. When Spears burst onto MTV’s Total Request Live in fall 1998, her appeal was obvious. She may not have been possessed of Mariah Carey’s pipes but—like Madonna before her—worked well with what she had. More importantly, she was mesmerizingly charismatic; a formidable presence on camera. In short, she was a product, and as such seemed unlikely to start donning trucker hats and wife-beaters and marrying every mistake in sight. This sweet southern gal was straddling two audiences early in her career. Young girls and dirty old men. One dude offered her a million dollars to relive her of her virginity. Fucking slob!

A decade later, all that and worse had happened. In January 2008, recently divorced from Federline and fresh off of publicly shaving her head and bashing a paparazzi’s car with an umbrella, she became uncooperative during a routine turnover of her sons to Federline’s representatives and ended up hospitalized when police were summoned and concluded she was on drugs. The following day, she lost custody of her children entirely and was committed to a psychiatric ward. A February 2008 Rolling Stone cover story on Spears’ decline lamented, “Even Michael Jackson never deteriorated to the point where he was strapped to a gurney, his madness chronicled by news choppers’ spotlights.”

In the five years since, Spears has mounted an impressive comeback, but this has meant her father placing her finances in conservator-ship and retaining this control long after the singer began behaving herself. As for her art; her music is still fun but she’s now lost in a sea of imitators. Her once assured rule over pop music has long since been abdicated to the likes of Lady Gaga, Miley Cyrus and Katy Perry.

If she’s still playing at Caesar’s Casino when my daughter Lorelei turns 21, I will send her and her friends to Las Vegas to see her childhood hero in concert.

I ma proud that Britney has survived showbiz and super stardom. She wrote this song. It is heartbreaking and beautiful. Leave Britney alone!!!

 

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Was it just a booty call, what does that even mean?? — Sensuality, Sex & Something else

 

Instead of putting on the dress I wore to the restaurant I throw on another dress which is super short and could probably be mistaken for a top. I jump in my car and head over to M’s. Whilst I was still sexually tense I was not in the same frantic state of passion that I was […]

via Was it just a booty call, what does that even mean?? — Sensuality, Sex & Something else

 

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Marissa – Coffee Touche’

It sounded like a metal bank vault door was repeatedly slamming shut.

Tou·ché
exclamation
 
  1. (in fencing) used as an acknowledgment of a hit by one’s opponent.
    • also used as an acknowledgment during a discussion of a good or clever point made at one’s expense by another person.

“I decided to meet up for coffee with a girl that I had been talking to online. We talked for 45 minutes or so — normal first date topics like family, travel, etc. She then asks, ‘Where did you do your undergrad?’

“Now, I have a pretty good job, but that question sets the bar pretty high for a guy who didn’t go to college. She is not only assuming that I went to college but is also assuming that I am taking part in some type of post-graduate school.

“When I said that I was in a band for awhile and then went straight into the workforce she looked at me as if she’d never heard of such a thing. Apparently, I didn’t pass all of her minimum requirements to be considered human. After a brief pause, she broke off her shocked stare, placed her hand on her forehead in a fashion that covered her eyes, inhaled briefly and followed it by a valley-girl, ‘Eew!’ She took her phone out of her purse and whispered to herself as she typed, ‘He … didn’t … even … go … to … college …’ I then saw the left thumb hold the shift key as she deliberately pressed the exclamation point key once … ! Twice … !! Three times … !!! In reality, each one of those keystrokes was a simple tapping of a small piece of plastic, but, in my head, it sounded like a metal bank vault door was repeatedly slamming shut.

“She pressed a few more buttons on the phone, presumably sending this text message to her total BFF. She put the phone away, looked at me, and after taking a deep breath said, ‘Well that is okay. Not everybody is capable of going to college.’ She put on a fake smile followed by an awkward laugh and just stared at me awkwardly. I couldn’t believe that she’d react so rudely to something and then try to act as if it didn’t happen. Perhaps she still believed that, like a child playing hide and seek, if you covered your eyes you would disappear.

“After staring at each other awkwardly for a few seconds, I finally broke the silence by saying, ‘Wow, okay. So, yeah… I, um guess it is about time to get out of here?’ I stood up and took my trash to the trash can and she followed me out the door. I turned and began walking down the street and she followed closely and said, ‘How far away is your car?’ This girl was expecting a ride!

“So, I stopped and turned around and said, ‘Oh, I am about a block this way. Where did you park? She replied, ‘Oh, I took the bus here. I don’t have a drivers license.’

“Now, I am normally not a rude person. Even in that situation, I was going to just walk away and let that be that, but I just couldn’t pass this opportunity up. I looked at her right in the eyes and said, ‘Eew!’ Pulled out my cellphone and typed, ‘she … doesn’t … even … have … a … license … ! … !! … !!!’ I then put my phone away, looked up at her, smiled and said, ‘That’s okay! Not everybody is capable of driving a car! Lucky for you, the bus stop is right over there. I hope you don’t have to wait too long!’

“I wish I took a picture of the look on her face as I walked away. It was priceless.”

 

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Johnny R. – Saturday Afternoon

“How’d it go?”

“She blew me.”

Yea, this fucker’s back. He’s writing a blog now.

Check it out: insidemypsyche.blogspot.com

I walked up to Tir Na Nog, the Irish pub up on 16th Street between JFK and Arch streets. I’m really not a fan of that bar. It’s a total sausage fest. Lots of soccer and dudes. The beer is never cold enough and the place is noisy.

But, it’s right next to Suburban Station and Johnny can just cruise right in there when he gets off the train. Also I know the bartender on duty and she always gives me my first one for free!

Johnny arrives and gets his usual bud bottle. We both agree, after this drink we want to go somewhere else because this place is lame. I pay the bill and we’re off.

We end up going to a spot we used to frequent when we both worked at the Inquirer years ago. Happy Rooster is the name of the bar on 16th and Sansom. There are a couple of tables outside on the Sansom street side of the building. I used to love to sit there and drink wine with Johnny and smoke cigarettes. We would sit there and check out all of the lovely talent as they walked by. It was a good spot.

The exact table is available and we hop in it. I get my usual chardonnay with a side of ice and Johnny pounds ice cold bud bottles. I love sitting here with Johnny. Just sippin’, smokin’ and jokin’. It’s a good people watching spot that’s always shady and off the main path of busy 16th Street.

He starts telling me this story about this girl that works in the deli downstairs in the lobby of the building where he works. His firm does data capture. That’s the systems behind processing credit cards at any business. He works in the finance department. He became friendly with her when he’s down there getting a sandwich or whatever.

He suggested the company he works for take a look at their credit card statements and maybe they could get them a lower rate. They agree and apparently they got their business. She’s very grateful because her mother owns the store and he’s helping their family save money.

One day when he was in the back with her and checking the system, she hugged him, and then kissed him. It was a little more than a friendly thank you peck on the cheek. It was a full on kiss. Johnny tells me that she’s unhappy in her relationship.

“Her boyfriend shoots squirrels.”

Sounds like some redneck, hillbilly behavior. Johnny’s not going to pursue anything with her, and besides, it’s too close to work. What if something happens and then things don’t work out? Awkward!

We’re there for about 45 minutes and Johnny tells me he needs to eat. I know if he doesn’t eat, he’ll get really drunk. No one wants that.

“Just like a slice of pizza or a hot dog.”

“Well Underdogs on 17th Street, went under. Hot Diggity Dogs on South Street died. But there is a new place over at 11th and Walnut that’s supposed to be good.”

“Let’s hit it.”

So we walk down to Walnut Street and head east. It’s a lovely Saturday in the city, and everyone is out, eating, drinking or shopping.

When we arrive I see that this new place is in the spot where the seafood restaurant Joe Pesce was located. (Yea it was really called that.) Nice place that just didn’t make it. It’s a big space, they sure as hell better sell a bunch of hot dogs.

The place looks great. A good spot for everybody who likes hot dogs. But the best part of all is that it has a bar! We sit down and tell the bartender it’s our first time but we heard good things.  She hands us a couple of menus and we order a pair of beers. They have at least 40 different kinds of dogs on the menu, and many of the meats are exotic.  I kind of just want a chili dog and some chips. I forget what Johnny ordered, but when the food came out, this glorious wiener was placed before me.

 

Check it out:

http://www.destinationdogs.com/

I rarely post anything on my personal Instagram, and I don’t like when people post pictures of babies and food. But I just couldn’t resist, and you can see why. They were a little stingy with the chips (Which they make in-house and are delicious) but the dog was amazing! I never expected that. Huge dog that almost seems that it’s been pressed into that buttery bread. It was maybe the best hot dog I’ve ever eaten, just because it was so fancy and delicious!

The food’s good, the beer is flowing and when we go out side for a smoke break, Johnny says it feels like he’s getting a second wind and wants to go to the Gold Club. He borrows $80 from me to do stuff there. I ask him why he just doesn’t get a separate  (or secret) account for all of his little dalliances, and he says he will. (He’s been saying it for years)

So I give him the cash and off we go. I only go to this place with him. I really have little interest in gentleman’s clubs. I’ve talked about them before. I just don’t see the appeal. It’s just a bunch of hot crazy chicks half-naked trying to separate you from your money. Period. The places are usually populated by either young drunk guys that just want to see some naked girls, or bored married guys, and other losers. Maybe some of the guys are just lonely, and don’t have access to real women. I know Johnny goes because he just has a taste for vice. He just does. Driven by his desires.

We get to the Gold Club and he’s chatting with this fat stripper. He likes his girls curvy. This beautiful athletic black girl comes over to me. I’ve seen her before and her legs are spectacular.

She can see Johnny is busy with the other girl so she cruises right up to me and starts chatting. She tells me she can take me in the back room, and we can do whatever I desire. I know this chick is hooking here, and I tell her I’ll think about it after I go out for a smoke.

The thick girl is now on stage and I tell Johnny that the thing he needs, that black girl will do. He’s happy about that even though he says she’s not his type. Not the black part, he likes his babes curvy. He goes to talk to her and I tell him I’m going out for a smoke.

I go outside and burn one. While out there I run into a guy who knows me from somewhere. Maybe here? But I know so many people in this city, I don’t remember where I know him from. So we’re having a nice exchange. Maybe he’s a doorman here. That’s probably it.

I know Johnny won’t be long and I’m sure he’s already half in the bag. I text him that when he’s done doing whatever it is that he’s doing, that I’m outside. Within a few minutes he appears.  I say goodbye to my doorman friend and we walk down Chancellor towards 16th street. (This section of Chancellor really adds up to just a filthy, rat infested alley full of dumpsters)

“How’d it go?”

“She blew me.”

“Protection?”

“I never wear a rubber.”

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m Johnny Rivers!”

And off he goes in a taxi.

 

 

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My Young Life: The Amazing Spider-Man #252

I knew that whenever something major happened in an issue in regard to a very popular character, that book would always become more valuable in the future.

Back in May of 1984 something wonderful happened. Marvel comics introduced the “New” Spider-Man. It was the same Spider-Man as before except they introduced the black costume. The cover was beautiful and harkened back to the cover of Amazing Fantasy #15, which was the first appearance of Spider-Man back in 1962. It was actually released the day after I was born.

I collected comic books my entire childhood into my early twenties. So in 1984 I was twenty-two years old and still into comics. I saw that the black costume was happening and told my dad about it. I knew that whenever something major happened in an issue in regard to a very popular character, that book would always become more valuable in the future. The death of Spider-Man’s girlfriend, Gwen Stacy (Spidey #121–122 June–July 1973) are very valuable books. Google Detective Comics #27 and you’ll really see what I mean.

I run all of this information by my father and being the man he is gets on the case. We also enlist the help of my brother-in-law. As my dad always said: “Anything worth doing is worth overdoing.”

We all go out and find as many copies of that issue as possible. By the end of the month we have collected 200 mint condition copies of the book. The cover price sixty cents. So I have spent $120 on 200 copies of the same comic book. Sounds ridiculous.

I put every one in a plastic comic book bag and place the lot in the bottom drawer of a black filing cabinet I have in my bedroom that houses my comic book collection.

That’s where they remained for three decades.

Thirty years later in 2014, I decided to see what they were worth and began selling off the comics on EBay. Each one sold for between $75 – $120 per book.

In 1984 a twenty-two year old kid invested $120 in 200 copies of the same comic book. In 2014 a fifty-two year old man redeemed that investment to the tune of over $17,000.

There’s comics you buy and save because they bring you great joy, and there those that you know that if you hold on to them long enough, you’ll make a pile of cash on. But which ones do you buy today?

 

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