Cherie – Chapter 35 – Jungle Fever

“My heads under water but I’m breathing fine.”

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Jungle Fever: “When a non-black person is attracted sexually to black people. Originally it was used for when a white woman dates black men, but now it could refer to a white man who thinks black women are hot and wants to date them.”

A Stevie Wonder song about black man/white woman love.

“She’s gon’ black guy crazy
He’s gone white girl hazy
They got jungle fever”–Stevie Wonder.
It’s been nearly a month and I’m going crazy. I miss her. She’s so beautiful and sweet. She’s an absolute pleasure to be with. A calm, loving, grateful, sexual, amazing woman. I haven’t seen her in three weeks.
She is crushing it in her life. Finals at Temple destroying her life just like all of the other girls at that damn school. Raising her son, working at CHOP as a medical assistant and the pediatrician’s office and everything else she’s dealing with.
She told me today that she got a flat tire on her Saab. That’s horrible but she said as bad as her life is, she says it could be worse. I like that because that is how I live my life, with positivity. Cherie is my sweet match.
I love her optimism. Maybe she got that from me but it doesn’t matter,  I just want her to be okay.
I’ll see her tomorrow at 4pm after a long hiatus.
 Sometimes I think she’ll just give up. Far away. Distant factor. Right side of thirty. Beautiful black girl.  Me… white guy in his mid fifties.
I’m prepared for her to bail. I’m writing this now in my home office, listening to the band Morphine and thinking she should just bail on me. Distance. Time. Age difference. She’ll just decide  it’s too difficult and I’ll be dead in the water.
Again.
She’s young and beautiful like Michelle and Annabelle and she’ll just wise up and just go.
I think about that on a weekly basis. That’s a real thing when you’re a middle-aged bachelor.
It feels like love and mad sex but it all could end if at 27 she wants a husband and more kids. You’re done. I’m dead. I’m alone. I have to start again. Or not. I say that she was the last one and it was great, but I’m finished. I’m out. I’ve punched all of the holes in my romance card, an it’s over.
If this one fails. I think I’m done.
That’s a real thing for guys my age.
But I’m not like guys my age. They’re scared and insecure without game. I’ve worked hard to build game. But that could also be my undoing.
Men my age try to surround themselves with affluent things that mean nothing.
Cars, gadgets, shoes, suits, watches, lifestyle. It’s all bullshit. Just build the powerful you to move forward with nothing but your own powers and the women will notice. Most men can’t do this.
But you have to practice guys. Get to know women. They’re great. Talk to them. Listen. Love them. Let go of whatever you were taught and just get to know them.
I’m having brunch on this rainy Saturday with my dear friend Alice who blew me off for drinks and quizzo last Wednesday. I love Alice. But the weather sucks. I would love to take her to the craft show in Rittenhouse Square this weekend. But the weather could take a dump on our plans.
It’ll happen because she’ll feel bad that she blew me off so she’ll do it. But I don’t even care because I love her (as a friend) and I want her to do well in her business.
All I need to do is get Cherie at 4pm and make sweet love to her.
That’s it.
I have a giant umbrella for me and Alice for the craft show but all I want to do is get Cherie at the train station and take her home and tear her to pieces.
My time with Alice is important. I love hanging with her. But I need to get to Cherie.
That’s the magical time.
That’s the time that everyone in the world wants.
That’s the time that everyone envys.
That’s the time that everyone regrets.
That’s the time everyone wishes they had again with their current partner.
That’s the time that you only get once but wish you could have again and again.
I’m not wrong. You all want that. What if you could have that again and again just as good as the first time? That would be the perfect drug for us all right? Can you have her or him again and again and it always feels like the first time? That shit’s magic.
That’s my life. Cherie and I built that together. I’m lost in that.
We’re always wishing for the first date. The euphoria. The excitement. Then they’re gone.
But this time she stays.
But also stays away. Just far enough to love her. And it works. Its magic together, but I’m alone. I like that. She’s busy and can’t be with me. I’m okay with that. I like it. She’s a nymphomaniac and I  love that.
It’s not all of the time. I need my alone time. She’s busy with school and life. So am I…  busy building a business. I have finally found a balance that works for me.
intense.
I love you, Cherie.
See you soon.
Magic again.
Watch this video please. Cut and paste if you can.
 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=450p7goxZqg

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day 8am & 12pm EST.

 

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Ambria – Chapter 5 – Wednesday Night – Part Three

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

What is happening?

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

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

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

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

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

It’s really uncanny.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a great girl.

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

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

Like I was kissing a girlfriend.

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

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

I almost tell her I love her.

Almost…

 

 

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Ambria – Chapter 3 – Wednesday Night – Part One

I text her early in the day to tell her that I was looking forward to seeing her at El Rey at 5pm.

She replied: “Me too. You better be there. lol”

So cute. I promised her that I would.

I get there early. Around quarter of, because I hate being late for anything. Punctuality was drilled into me by my father at an early age, but we’ll save that for a later blog.

The staff is sweet. The hostess get me a nice quiet table in the back. I order a margarita to steady the pre-date jitters and I’m all set.

I text her that I’ve arrived and a photo of my icy fresh cocktail. She responds that she’s on her way. Then she texts again. “Just got the picture. You suck! Lol”

Holy shit, this girl has given me the greatest first date ever in this dating odyssey yesterday. Really good. Easy and nice. I like her!

Today she broke the record for arriving later than any date I have ever been on. She was a full hour late. I expected after 5 to be 5:15ish. I would have accepted 5:30, but now she’s pushing 6pm. It’s killing me. I am at my booth in the back of El Rey. Booth 11. Everybody has been great. The hostess Daisy has been a love, Meg my cute stepford wife-like server Megan has been great and attentive. She an adorable little Asian girl with blonde pigtails.

My phone is dying. (something I don’t ever allow to happen because I carry a charger with me at all times) But I need to keep in touch with Ambria who says she is still at work and has to write some notes. I don’t know what that means, but she’s a nurse and I don’t question it. I don’t even know where she is right now. I’m two margaritas in so I can’t complain, but I’m getting frustrated. If Ambria arrives they’ll describe my table as #11 or the booth with the singular white guy that is angrily talking to himself alone.

I’m feeling that old frustration again. Where is she? I know deep down, when I see her I’ll be fine, or will I? What does after 5 mean to her? Happy Hour is over at 6:30 here and we are burning guacamole over here. Tick Tock, Ambria. You need to get here. I think I’m only feeling this way because I like her so much. Goddamn it.

She texts me and tells me that she is en route and sorry that she’s late. I hand off my phone and charger to sweet Megan and she plugs me in at the back hostess stand. So at least my phone is close by.

Time is ticking away and I’m sitting there sipping and twiddling my thumbs. What if she just stands me up due to cold feet. That crazy thought crosses my mind but I push it away. I ask Meg to check my phone and see if I have a text. She grabs it and says there is a text. It’s Ambria and she says she will be there in a minute.

She tells me to order two of whatever I’m having and she’ll be there in a minute.

I hand the phone back to Megan and she puts it in her breast pocket. I like that my phone is face down against her supple breast. Yea, it’s a moment but I’m losing my shit.

Then I see baby come through the front door. She looks hot. Curls in place, lovely face smiling in apology, outfit looking tight.

She’s very sorry for being so late and explains. I was pissed because I could have gotten there later and could have maybe helped out at the salon tonight. But when I see her, as I knew, all would be forgiven.

She’s a nurse. Shit happens. She’s here now and looks great and is the same girl I met yesterday, so I’m back in the groove I was in yesterday. The tequila helps soften my mood.

I want yesterday’s energy tonight. She toasts me and we sip our margaritas. All is good. I admit to her that yesterday she hit the record for the best first date ever, and today she broke the record for being later than any other girl I’ve ever gone out a date with her. I can see she’s hurt and sad about failing me, and I turn it into a joke. I tell her it’s okay, and on our third date I tell her we have to break another record. Maybe I won’t believe I could hold my breath that long or had never fallen from such a height.

I don’t want her to feel bad, so I lay off. I don’t want to be my dad in this moment.  She looks beautiful and I really like her, so I forgive her.

She’s plowing margaritas. Stressful day. They tell us happy hour is ending in 20 minutes so we order a bunch of tacos and some other stuff that she likes and she orders a pitcher of margaritas. That’s a bold move and she offers to pay. Not tonight sister. You took first date lunch bill. I got this, no matter the cost. You’re worth it.

The banter and flirting and witty repartee is still gleaming between us and I love it.

This girl…

Never saw this one coming. I really like her. You never know. You have to keep going. Go on all of the shitty dates you can as long as it doesn’t break you financially. But keep going. Meet more people. Like sales. it’s a numbers game. Ask a thousand girls to dance and maybe one will say yes. But that one girl could be your life.

I’ve perfected this to an art. I’m at ease. I’m charming. I’m Hank Moody, but with all the charm and elegance, instead of the fighting and jail time. (Google: Californication)

It’s good again. It never stopped being good. I love being with Ambria. She’s fun, sweet and smart. There’s real chemistry here. I can feel it. It just works. It’s effortless. Why did I not see this in the other women I’ve been dating? If I can offer up a piece of advice here gents and also to the ladies, when you go on a date with a new person, it’s either hell yes, or hell no.

It’s that simple. I went on a bunch of dates. I thought, let me get to know her, let me be a better person, I should get to know her and be mature.

Fuck all that. You meet someone and go out. You feel something. A connection. It’s got to feel easy. They need to connect with you like an old friend but you just met them. Lean into it. Be true to that and you’ll meet somebody good. If you have to force it, or have to keep laboriously keep marching into dates, fuck that.

On our very first date we connected. You need to get that. It’s amazing. You’ll know. After the date, there will be no questions as to anyone’s intentions, or where it’s going. You’ll both only be filled with the “I can’t to see them again.” vibe. I swear, it’s that easy. Don’t waste your time. I’ve been at this for so long, I know. I will never dish out any bullshit in this blog. It’s rare and elegant but that’s what it feels like.

They don’t care who you are or what you look like, it’s just a connection. Just you and them. It’s happening. You almost can’t stop your hearts from attaining what they want in that instance. It’ll be like you’re teenagers again. It’s that simple. I like you, you like me, and lets spend more time together.

As adults we complicate this too much. It’s just the laws of attraction. We’re fucking mammals. We want to get it on. But we’re so intelligent and complicated we fuck it up for ourselves. Because we over think everything. Let the heart want what it wants and just roll with it. Relax. I know it seems complicated, but I’m here to tell you that it’s not. It’s just chemistry.

Kiss those frogs. Do it. Keep doing it. (Or maybe just a hug) Your Prince or Princess is out there and she can’t wait to meet you!

 

Tune in tomorrow for Part Two!

 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am & 12pm EST.

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Cherie – Chapter 29 – Darker the Berry Part 2

“The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen, Cherie.”

Previously on Phicklephilly:

At this point I’m glad I have drawn my massive blue curtains so my neighbors aren’t losing their shit from what they are about to witness. This aging gentleman throttling this beautiful young black girl in his bed for the next twelve hours.

So after the massage, she’s primed and ready to roll. But there is something else…

I tell her that I know that she didn’t want anything for Valentine’s Day and she knows I don’t want anything. Cherie never wants anything from me. Just wants to be with me. We haven’t celebrated anything except our love in so many ways, and we’re doing it right. Life isn’t about stuff. Stuff and gifts is something you do to as an obligation for some empty holiday. Most of that crap was invented by advertising agencies to generate income for corporations. (Do your homework people) That’s not what real love is. Real love doesn’t want anything. You are satisfied with who you’re with because they’re a good match for you.

When I started this journey, I never thought I’d be here. I didn’t know that would happen. I just wanted to document what happened to me in my past relationships that failed in this fair city. I never thought I’d fall in love again, and I never thought it would be this glorious.

I go over to one of my dressers and pull out an elegant white box. I reiterate that Valentine’s Day has passed and I saw her before that but not on the day. I again tell her I want nothing from her because she gives me so much good love and that’s enough. I lay the box on the bed and tell her I felt compelled to get her a little something. It’s been two years since I’ve had a girlfriend and she’s so amazing I HAD to get her something.

She seems really surprised and delighted. She opens it and it is a very expensive set of lingerie. I know her sizes and it will look amazing on her.

Cherie LOVES it. She’s so grateful. She says that she’s so happy she could cry. I tell her there’s no reason for tears and please just accept it and maybe wear it for me or whenever.

I had to get her something. I couldn’t be without love for two years and not get my new love a little sexy something for my baby on Valentine’s Day.

I had to do it. I’m a giver and Cherie has been so incredible in my resurrection back into the world of romance where I belong it almost doesn’t do her love justice, but I had to do something!

I feel her pleasure at this small sweet token and her reaction justifies why I love this woman so much. The girl who wants nothing and only gives of herself so perfectly. (tearing up as I write this)

I’m amazed at my good fortune. This lovely girl absolutely loves me unconditionally and I feel the same. She’s so easy to be around an I’m happy when we’re together. All of the stuff we do is always sweet and happy. She is a nymphomaniac and the only thing that’s keeping her from being a sex addict or a whore is loyalty and self-esteem. I’m on the receiving end of that all day long. She lives an hour away. I still get to have time alone and with my friends and everybody, but she’s still my girlfriend and my number one.

Michelle and I worked together. (See: Michelle – A Brand New Day) Annabelle had a crazy schedule because she was crazy and disorganized and didn’t know who she was. (See: Annabelle – 2013 to 2014 – Nice to Meet You) On the other hand Cherie has her whole week and life mapped out on a weekly basis. She has stability and I like that. She has her whole next semester and medical school planned as well. She’s either going to be a neuroscience doctor for pediatric medicine or she’ll teach it at a university.

We tore each other apart tonight. Cherie truly is my match. I have never in my life (and I’ve been in 3 bands) had a woman who is more sexually focused and driven in my life. Her target is me. Our sex is more amazing than can I describe in this little blog. She’ll arrive at 9pm and will collapse at midnight. If she needs to be on an 8am train back to Children’s Hospital I will be raped at 4:30am by her.

Last night I had the most joyous sex I’ve ever had in my life. I’ve been a hypersexual since childhood, so maybe I’ve finally met my Queen.

Cherie needs to be on an 8:05 train back to the hospital. So we get up at 6am and get ourselves together and head out to breakfast. We hit the Midtown Diner like always. Breakfast is fast, cheap and open 24 hours.

I’m looking at her across the table and we know what happened. We are now more in love and deeply connected that we’ve ever been. We know it.

“Can I tell you something Cher?”

“Yea sure baby anything…”

“Everybody wants this.”

“What, delicious breakfast?”

“What we have. Everybody in the whole world wants what we have right now. But its ours. There are people with enough riches to make Solomon blush, but they can’t buy this feeling.”

“I know…”

“They all want the feeling of being in love that we have right now. “They can take all the trips and have all the fun they want but they would trade it all if they could have what we have right now with each other. It’s powerful and rare, and we have it and I want to hold onto it for as long as I can. No matter what heartache or problems you have, this is the greatest feeling that everyone wants.

“I know it; to fall in love…” she says softly.

That’s it. That’s everything. The most powerful thing in the universe. To have that easy feeling and that’s tender love and fiery sex with the one you truly love is breathtakingly elegant.

Yet some, like my last girlfriend squandered it because they don’t even know what it is.

“The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen, Cherie.” (I’m getting misty writing this about her)

The rest is just mortgage or rent, bills, work, kids and all that other shit you have to do to survive.

“I love you so much, Cherie.”

“I love you more…”

She can always one up me…. my love.

After breakfast, ($20! yay!) I get her to her train. Parting is always such sweet sorrow. But I got to at least sit and have breakfast with my sweet lovely girl. I got to discuss with her how important our relationship is to me and what this kind of love means to me and to humanity.

Me writing again. Finally. A blog about dating a bunch of crazy women and fun experiences has become a document to my love and admiration of a wonderful woman who has taken a chance with her heart on a guy like me.

The train pulls from the station and through the window she blows me a kiss. I watch as the train barrels down the tracks back to her home. My queen kidnapped again. She’ll work the next ten hours following doctors around and taking care of patients. I’ll go home and nap for two hours and then run the salon from open to close.

I am sobbing as I write these words….

Life is beautiful.

We are one inside these walls. Undercover.

 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am & 12pm EST.

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Cherie – Chapter 22 – Shark Week – Part III – Shoes & Scarves

Alright, don’t panic. I didn’t get Cherie pregnant last night during Shark Week. Although she did say a few things last night that shook me up.

  1. It only takes one sperm…
  2. I always wanted a girl…
  3. My husb…

She assured me she was just kidding about the first two. She’s made it very clear to me that she doesn’t want anymore children. But those sort of references always rattle me to my core. But in regard to the third one, she was telling me a story last night, and that’s how she almost slipped to refer to me. I called her out on it, and made it funny. She laughed and was a little embarrassed. I thought that it was cute. Does she want me to someday be her husband? I do love her. Time will tell. Let’s see how this romantic journey plays out.

We head out into the snowy day. It’s not that bad. Pretty flurries, and some snow on the ground. But we’re on a mission. Breakfast was amazing. We didn’t get the special, but it was worth it to spend some extra time in bed together.

You know, when I’m with Cherie, she becomes more beautiful to me every hour I’m with her. I don’t get to see her all of the time. Michelle I saw every day. Annabelle, was a forced companionship to make it work. But with Cherie, I’m denied her presence most of the time. Our schedules and the distance keep us apart. But it’s working! When I’m with her, I’m at peace. Not a euphoric happy that I felt with the last two. Just a satisfied feeling that I’ve never felt before. I haven’t had to change at all with her in my life. I’ve gone good and bad in the last two relationships, but I do what I want in this relationship and most of all…I get to be me.

The real me.

To a point. I smoke, and drink and live my life down here in the city. Working two jobs, moving a business, writing a blog that you’ll one day binge on Netflix. That’s the difference here. I don’t have to be patient and fix the girl I’m loving. I don’t have to stop being me, and transform into an idea. I don’t have to be frustrated, angry or disappointed. I thought that was part of being in a relationship. My parents were that.

All of my relationships have been fucked up. There’s always something missing.

A disconnect. I loved them, but it was always hard. I just thought it was always supposed to be that way. I guess that’s why Michelle went back to Delaware Dave. She did it to save herself. Work on your health. You can’t do that with Phickle. He’s all about joy and vice. It’s fun, but it won’t sustain a relationship. Annabelle was in a totally different child-like, confused part of her life. I don’t even know why I thought it could be anything. It’s just ashes blown off the edge of an old table.

I don’t think we’ll always be at a distance. But I’m not going to do anything to change it now. It’s been three months and I have zero stress or confusion about what this is. Sometimes I’m amazed that this ripe, young, fit beauty really loves me. I know she does. I love her but there’s always an imbalance in every relationship. it’s not a bad thing. It just is. Somebody loves somebody more than the other one does.

Think about it. That’s you. You’ve been there, or you’re there right now.

I love Cherie. She’s young, beautiful, smart, super sexy, and a chill girl with an even temperament, and a great sense of humor. What more could any man want? Nothing. She’s great, and I’m blessed to have her in my life. Sometimes I think of myself and God. I feel like I’ve spent all of my luck and good fortune tickets. I punched every hole in my joy ticket.

Then I think of karma. What if I did something to deserve one more twenty-six year old baby, but she’s the right one? Not a project, but a lovely young woman who has suffered. Worked ten years at MacDonald’s. Has been a mother for the last six years. Medical Assistant at Children’s Hospital. Works at a pediatrician’s office. Tons of hours. getting her degree in neuroscience. Next stop, medical school. End game: Doctor.

But the karma. I haven’t done anything extraordinary since, Michelle. Why have I been granted this maiden?

To love again.

Why do I get to go again?

Then it came to me. February, 2015.

Lorelei came to me. The lead in the school play. The A-B student. The quiet, calm force torn asunder by her mother’s madness.

“Daddy, please. Can I please come live with you? I can’t take it anymore. I have to get out. I’ll sleep on the floor to get away from her.”

There it is. I have entered into and exited bloody from many relationships in my short life, but I got a “Get out of Jail Free” card from God. I rescued my daughter from the clutches of the gargoyle and God gave me another one.

Cherie.

Cherie loves me more than I love her and I know it. But maybe she doesn’t love me more and only loves me differently than the way I love her.

 

We enter Kids Foot Locker and look for some sneakers for kids. Lorelei is twenty and it’s been a long time since I thought about buying shoes for her. But Cherie’s family is young.

My family is slowly sliding down destiny’s rainbow.

There are walls of footwear in these places. I would never go to a store like this. Payless is how I roll in regard to fine footware here in Philly. I am blown away by these prices. There were $100 little baby sneakers in there! Walls of them!

Cherie was very thorough in her search. She finally decided on two terrifically expensive pairs of shoes for a couple of kids that will grow out of them in half a year.

We step out of the store and the snowfall seems to be getting worse. I tell her I know of a retail street cart at the corner of 12th and Chestnut that has the scarves I need. There’s Pollyanna party at my new company. If you ever have to buy a gift for someone in the fall or winter in Philly, buy a street scarf.

Super soft. Silky. That’s how I would describeit… cashmere. But I’m describing these Burberry novachek knock offs that look and feel great for about six bucks.

We trudge over there. The snow is getting colder and meaner. The flakes now feel like cold needles on our tender faces.

Philadelphia is a bitter and grey place today.

We arrive at where the cart is supposed to be but it’s not.

Cherie is not thrilled.

She wanted to buy a hat and some gloves. I tell her I have an idea. I cut South through Midtown Village. We enter at the earliest point to get into the subway.

At least I have baby out of the cold!

Suburban Station in the winter is a den of homeless people. It’s especially frosty out tonight so, we have a packed house full of walkers right now.

I find this subway retails store that carries everything. I get the scarves I need, and Cherie lands her gloves and hat. When we leave the store, I want to keep Cherie underground for as long a possible, because it’s now an ice storm out there.

We’re walking down this long hallway, and I swear to God, the urine stench was so bad, I actually started getting angry. Cherie wanted to turn back, but I told her she’d freeze her sweet black ass off if we were to back track. (Just take out the word ‘black’ please…)

As we’re walking down the hallway of the walking dead, I turn to the right and there is a woman with no pants on. This poor thing is changing her clothes in an alcove under 1601 Market. Cherie, chides me for staring, but I have to explain it to her. If you saw nudity in Playboy, you’d be expecting it. It’s good, but there are higher levels. If you were walking through a train station and you saw a real naked lady, it would feel different, right? It’s a bit of a shocker. As bad as she is, you still saw it and got a story out of it.

I knew this would happen. I created phicklephilly and now we are one. My art is imitating my life and my life is now my art.

We walk back through center city to the house. Her giant back pack is there. The entire walk home was a grueling trudge with snow biting our faces the whole way. We chill for a bit and dry out at the house. Lorelei texts me that she is stopping home between the double she’s working at the restaurant.

“That was nine minutes ago. We should go.” There has been very little exposure for my current, I wanted it do the opposite in this relationship. We are literally in the vestibule of my building, and Cherie says, “How do you open this door?”

I look through the glass and on the other side of the door is Lorelei. Cherie is trying to operate our impossibly tricky locking system. “You’re about to meet my daughter.”

Lorelei is surprised to see me. Probably even more surprised that I’m standing with a pretty black girl. I fumble over my words. “Hi honey. I got your text about stopping home between your double shift. This is Cherie. I’m going to walk her to the train. We just had to pick up some stuff. She doesn’t think anything. My daughter knows I’m friends with so many people in the city and they’re all different races. It’s not like she caught us in the saddle.

We head back out into the snow. It’s really going. I think about how I haven’t told anyone about Cherie. It’s not because of the age difference or the race. That’s nonsense. But for the first time in the last decade, I’ve not posted and shown off what I’m doing. I don’t know why I did that. I guess I’ll figure it out. There are no pictures of Cherie and me. There are no posts about us going out. This love belongs to us. It’s private. Who gives a shit about the rest of the world. Let them look into their own lives. Show all of their greatest hits on all of their trips. Stuff and vacations tell me they are empty. Because when you are calm and happy, you don’t want anything. The best things in life are free.

It’s really true. Everybody wants that. But love is elusive. But what is even more elusive  is people’s ability to go out in the world and open their hearts. Love and sex is all around you. Just relax, smile and go forth and be yourself. They’ll find you.

The most beautiful butterflies I have ever caught have been wonderful. But I never had to pick up my net to catch them. They flew right into the flame.

I’m not worried about Lorelei. She doesn’t give a shit about what I do anyway. As long as she can work, collect her allowance, eat her vegan food, and see her boyfriend, she’s cool.

We cross the street, avoiding the traffic on the street. “Where are we going now?” Cherie says. “I’m calling an UBER. We’re not walking back to Suburban Station in this mess.” “I’ve never taken an UBER.” “You’ll love it.”

We arrive at 16th and JFK and hop out. I take her and lead her down the stairs back into the subway. I take her to the platform and wait with her. We’re standing there and the train roars into the station.

I’m back where I began friday night. But there has been so much joy. I’m standing there satisfied. It’s obvious I ‘ve been satisfied sexually. But there’s a certain feeling you get when you’re with someone you love. You don’t want anything else. You’re good. All set. I’ll miss her, but she has to go. She has to get back to her son, work, and school.

I stand on the platform until she leaves. I can see her at the window. The conductor shouts. The train hisses to life and begins to pull from the station. Our eyes meet. She smiles, waves and blows me a kiss.

I do the same. Until next we meet.

 

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

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Cherie – Chapter 20 – Shark Week – Part I

“I’m a man alone on the platform of life. Waiting for his girlfriend. The latest model. My newest love. The next one.”

I finished at the salon on Friday night. I text Cherie to see where she was in the travel process. She’s on winter break so there’s no classes for the next week or so, but work and life have been the usual grind. The holidays, raising her son, school, and two grueling jobs are taking a toll upon her health. She sometimes leaves one job and goes to the other one just to keep the machine rolling. She sometimes works twenty-eight hours straight without sleep between Children’s Hospital and the pediatrician’s office.

Cherie texts me back and tells me that she missed the first train, but is currently on the next one from Norristown. It should roll into Suburban Stanton around 8:40pm. I look at my watch and see that it is only 8:20pm. It’s been a long day and an even longer week for me. Being back to working forty hours at the new day job, and running the salon four days a week have clocked me in at sixty hours a week again. I like having a morning purpose to get out of bed again, but the adjustment has been a bit of a challenge.

I lock up the salon and head to suburban station. The winter night kisses my face. She’s always been a Philly bitch.

Suburban Station this time of year is an absolute shit show. There are so many homeless people down there to escape exposure you can’t get a seat. The stench of urine makes me angry.

I see where her train is coming in and I head to that platform. I haven’t seen her since our fun early lunch at Devil’s Alley. That’s always sweet and civil. We love seeing each other and spending time together, but it’s really just a band-aid, to bridge the gap until we will once again share a bed.

I look at the schedule. On Time. Baby is coming…. (Sorry, “Arriving”) I know she’ll be all covered up. Heavy coat, boots, hat, and a scarf. But I know what’s beneath all of those layers. The heart of a lovely, woman.

I plan on asking her if she’s eaten, because if anyone deserves a super din, it’s this girl. She doesn’t eat enough or get enough rest.

If baby’s hungry, I’ll feed her.

I’m a man alone on the platform of life. Waiting for his girlfriend. The latest model. My newest love. The next one.

All of this work I’m doing now is tough. I adapt like a cockroach, and love to work so I know I’ll be fine, but the first two weeks through the holiday were a little cloudy. But I’ve adjusted and I’ll make it happen on both fronts. I’m not the tallest or the strongest man you’ll ever meet. I’m average looking in every way, but I have a kind face and an effervescent personality. Sometimes that, and real enthusiasm is enough. Making tons of money and surrounding yourself with a nice house, cars and stuff is a huge fat lie.

I once had a boss I really liked and one day I asked him, why everybody was so into food and stuff. He said it’s probably because we all can’t have beautiful sex all of the time. I was very close with him and he and I worked well together. He lived in NYC and I would walk him to the train at 30th street every night for months. He was a fish out of water in Philly, but a wonderful man and mentor. We all need mentors.

My father used to say.

But he was right. It was a simple question and he gave me his simple answer. I appreciated his candid answer. I miss him. But think about it… when you meet that special someone and ignition is imminent, it’s is a glorious feeling. You meet that person. There is a connection. There’s chemistry for whatever reason. It’s electric. You fall in love, have all of the dating, sex and love you can make, and then the inevitable happens. You get married.

You fall in love, and then you lock down a mate for whatever reason. It could be a good decision or the worst one of your life, but you make it. If it works, you live in domestic life for the rest of your days. Some of them work, some don’t. Some of us make good decisions and others make bad decisions. I make bad decisions all of the time. But I’m an artist stuck in the corporate world. I’m not an artist that can’t fit in with corporate America. I’m an artist that can swim comfortably through it. Usually the other fat fish that have dedicated themselves to working in business don’t like this strange fish. They’ll eventually get him.

It’s okay, because I know my spirit will always find a way to swim in someones warm pond. If it gets too hot, I can alway hop to another pretty body of water.

I’ll always work, and I’ll always love. I won’t stuff my life with tradition, stuff and lies ever again. I’ve been married, been a homeowner, had hot cars and tons of stuff.

None of it means anything. At the end of the day, you have to come home to yourself. You. Alone in your apartment. You. Alone in your marriage. Maybe you, happy in either one.

But I’ve found that humans are social creatures. We LOVE to be with each other. most people can’t sit in a room by themselves for very long without hating themselves. You need to be truly alone to understand yourself and who you are. You can’t do that around other people. You need to break it all down and get inside your own soul. It’s really hard to do, but some of us, a rare few actually like it.

If you get married, you fall in love, choose the best you can and go forward. House, mortgage, careers, kids, stuff… all of it. Everybody does it. I did it.

It was never a fit for me.

Did you ever notice that there are no great white sharks in captivity? There are grey nurse sharks, sand tigers, and whatever stuff they can steal from the sea to entertain you. An afternoon at the aquarium. But the Great White is at the top of the heap when it comes to marine predators. Little is really known about them. But having the greatest shark ever the star of Peter Benchley’s JAWS would surely be an attraction like no other that would bring Homo Sapiens in to your little circus in droves.

You’ve done it. You’ve kidnapped them from the sea, and what happened?

They all died. Every one of them.

Dead.

The Great White isn’t going to live in a fish tank and have you gawk at him. He’d rather die that give you the satisfaction of owning him. Imprisoning him. He needs to swim and be free.

Would I like to be in a marriage and be satisfied and happy? I don’t know. We all want to have that connection with that one person that completes us.

We do.

I may be the Great White, but even they find a lovely lady shark and go off and make little sharks.

But I’ve made bad choices and have tried to make that work, but it hasn’t. I know it works for some, but they have made such better choices than myself.

I am so happy when I see couples together making it work and are really are connected. It’s amazing to see. I know so few. But the ones that get it right are terrific people. I see it in my own family. All of my sisters have made good choices for their life goals and it’s worked.

But not me. I’ve tried over and over to fit into that and it just hasn’t worked. Like I said, I made bad choices. But what does that mean? I think I’m not meant to be locked into an American marriage model. I need to swim free. I need to be alone. The shark needs to swim.

Appreciate who he is and let him be.

The only upside of being in different relationships throughout your life instead of getting married and locking it down is this: You get to fall in love a bunch of times.

I know everybody falls in love. That shit is magic. I can’t think of anything on the Earth that feels that good. I’ve always known that beyond everything, love is the most powerful force in the universe. When you think about all of the crazy shit people have done in the name of love its mind-boggling!

I know marriage is a great way for people to really bond with your desired match. It yields family, children, grandchildren, joy, pain, life existence. It really is the foundation of our culture.

But what if you could have that feeling again that you had in the beginning, over and over again?

We all long for that initial passion. I know if you’re with the same person all of the time there becomes a familiar. There’s no way to sustain that drug of love.

The only way you could do that and get that feeling would to be alone most of the time.

Most of the populace are unable to do that.

Ever.

So, you meet someone, you fall in love and it doesn’t work out.

Again and again.

You’re sad. Most people have had their heart broken once. Some of us have had it shattered, shredded, tossed on the fire, and kicked to the curb. Because we loved too much.

We’re sensitive people who’ve spent their love dollars on the wrong people for the wrong reasons. Sometimes we end up broke.

But only financially.

We’re still the same people. Growing. Evolving into the future of ourselves.

But…We love again.

Again and again.

See how it works? You either choose once, and hope and works, and most times it does. If it doesn’t work you have to be brave enough to walk away. The consequences can be catastrophic but if you are truly not happy you have to go.

So, here I am. Carcharodon carcharias. Domesticity and cohabitation hasn’t ever worked for me. What should I do?

I should continue to evolve and grow as a person. I should be the best person I can be to the people around me. The shark needs to swim and be free. But maybe I can meet a perfect, low-key, smart, solid lady shark and make it work.

I think of her face. Her lovely eyes. Her smile. Her laugh, when she really loses it. My god, her thighs.

(Is that a Haiku?)

 

The voice over the intercom says that her train is coming in. I’m about to accept the honor of Cherie’s presence for the next 20 hours.

The platform is cold. I smell something. I glance down the track. A flash of light off  the wall. There’s a sudden breeze in on the platform. The air is fresh and clean. The train is pushing life into this sad terminal.

She is about to arrive.

My girlfriend. I once again have a girlfriend.

Oh, if you’re still wondering why this chapter was called, “Shark Week,” It’s because I’m comparing myself to a Great White shark. An elegant animal that’s meant to be free to swim, and can’t be contained into your idea of love.

But I’m trying, and I’ll be fine. I really appreciate you all getting it this week!

No. that’s not what this chapter is about. You missed the whole point. Thank you for reading this far…

Cherie is on her period.

I just got the text. She’s coming to the bat cave for the next twenty hours. There’s going to be a lot of sex and negotiation, but there’s also going to be a lot of blood…

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am & 12pm EST.

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Cherie – Chapter 10 – Hammer into Anvil

“What’s meant for you…won’t go by you.”

Since I began writing phicklephilly a year and a half ago, this is by far and away my favorite post. I started writing about all of the crazy women and relationships and dates I had gone on in my life. But I quickly realized if I was going to write a dating and relationship blog, then I’d better start dating again. If I hadn’t then I may have never have met lovely Cherie.

So if you’re out there swiping right to the point of having to ice down your thumbs, keep at it. Your next great love could be the very next swipe!

Saturday finally arrives. I woke up and got myself together. I did some last-minute manscaping, and started packing a bag. I went into my closet and grabbed a plastic bag that was hanging on a hook. In it is like tons of condoms. Well, not tons. Like 50.

I start going through them. It’s obviously been awhile since I acquired them because most of them are expired. Now if I had some pills that were expired and not by much I might take them. They’re probably still good. But who wants to take the risk with a condom? Only one little dude needs to get through. One.

I need to go to the drug store.

I head out to my favorite weekend breakfast spot. I have my usual. Scrambled eggs, bacon, and a toasted buttery bagel. I should probably go to the liquor store. I had up to Fine Wine and Good Spirits at 21st and Market street. I pick up a fifth of vodka. I figured, what if I want a cocktail later? I’m not paying hotel room service prices. I never drink or smoke around Cherie, but we’ll be together for a long time and I may want to chill with a beverage at some point. On the way back from the liquor store I stop at my dry cleaners and pick up my shirts. I drop everything off and go back out. I head down to the Walgreens at 18th and South. I grab a bottle of club soda and go to the counter.

“Give me ten condoms” Suddenly I hear giggling behind me in line. I turn around and see two teenage girls laughing. I turn back to the clerk and say: “Make it and even dozen.”

No. That didn’t happen. I just love doing that bit.

I went to the family planning aisle and looked at the variety of condoms. They have all kinds now. Ribbed. (For her pleasure) Couldn’t I turn those inside out and make them for my pleasure? Kidding. They have condoms that warm up when you use them. How cold are your genitals? If you’re about to have sex with someone, I would hope your naughty bits are hot. They also make ones that speed her up and slow you down. Okay. I decide on the Durex Real Feel non latex condom 3 pack. I don’t know about you but nobody likes condoms. In my experience latex condoms smell like, well, latex. Fresh rubber. I don’t like that smell. I have cracked open so many trojans in my life that the smell of latex alone could take the wind out of my proverbial sails. Plus if you really get going, who wants your bedroom to smell like burnt rubber? Might as well have sex under the bleachers at the local drag strip.

I only bought the three pack because I still had about eight unexpired condoms at the house. Then I thought, How many times are we actually going to have intercourse? I mean, the reason we got the hotel room is to finally get the sex out of our systems. Not out completely, mind you, just to relieve the tension that’s been building up over our last few dates. Maybe we’ll do it a few times. We’ll sleep. Go out. Get something to eat, etc. Just to be safe. I’m going to bring all of the unexpired condoms and use these new ones first. Cherie says she’s an animal, but the body has its limits. I’m not getting any younger, and it’s been two years since I was in a relationship and having sex on a regular basis. What if I freeze up and can’t perform at all? Nightmare.

I’ll be fine. I really like Cherie. She’s so sweet and easy-going, she’ll understand and be patient with me. I need to stop talking like this. Don’t want to psych myself out. I pick up a small bottle of mouthwash and pay for my stuff and leave.

I get back to the house and pack way too much stuff. I don’t travel anywhere. When was the last time I had to pack a bag and go to a hotel? I’m checking in at 3pm today, and I’ll be out of there at 10:30am tomorrow. How much clothes will I need? I’m really going there to take my clothes off not wear a bunch of outfits. I had like two pair of underwear. Three T-shirts, two pair of socks, just too much stuff. It was one night! I gather all of my toiletries and grab the vodka and the bottle of club and stuff it all in the bag.

I summon an UBER and head outside and stand by the curb. The car arrives, and I tell him to take me to the tanning salon. I have some time to kill before check in, and I figured I’d go chat with Trish.

I get to the salon and put my bag in the back. Trish asks where I’m going. I’ve known her for a long time so I can tell her what’s going on. I tell her how Carly hooked me up with the Club Quarters suite. I have only known Cherie for a little over a month and we’re going there with the sole intention of consummating our relationship. We chat and I realize that I’m just killing time before the 3pm check in. Cherie texts me that she’s on her way. She’s an hour away so I have time to get checked in.

Years ago, I could have simply brought her to my house, but since my daughter Lorelei lives with me now, I just can’t take a chance. Besides, if you really want to accomplish something, you should lock yourself away and get it done. No distractions. Like writing. I have to laugh when I see all of these people writing in coffee shops around the city. Is that to show off and let people know you’re a writer? Writing is a painstaking process. It takes time and it’s a lonely profession. But, I’m one of the few who likes to be alone.

I head over to the hotel. I go up to the front desk. I check in. “One or two key cards, sir?”

“Two.”

The lobby’s really nice. There is a flat screen TVs on the walls. There’s an area where you can get coffee and tea 24 hours a day.  Plenty of spots to just hang out. The hotel is even connected to Davio’s, the Italian restaurant next door. Somehow, I know I won’t be using any of these facilities. Cherie texts me that she’s in the city, and headed to the parking garage. I dash up to the room. 1107. I walk up and down the hallway, but have trouble finding it. Then I realize that it’s near the elevators.

The room is a sort of isolated from the other rooms on the floor. I enter the room and drop my bag. To my left and back is the bathroom. Small but nicely appointed. Big shower. (Noted) There’s a kitchenette beyond that. Won’t be cooking anything in there. (Well, not that kind of cooking) There’s a small table with two chairs. Above it is a flat screen TV mounted to the wall. Then off to the right is the bed. It’s a good-sized bed. I draw back the curtains to reveal a nice eastern view on this sunny Saturday afternoon.

Cherie is texting me that she’s parking. I grab my card key and head back to the lobby and out. I walk up to the Windham Hotel. The parking garage is there. I go into Two Liberty and into the little shopping center inside. I know just where she’ll come up from the garage. I walk to the elevators, and just as I get there, the doors open and Cherie appears.

I take her bag, and we head back to the Club Quarters. It’s 3:15pm. We go into the room and I give her a key card. There’s little bottles in a rack in the hallway that you can fill with purified water, so I fill up a pair for us. She’s exploring the room. I return and she jumps onto the bed. I join her. We kick off our shoes and I hold her in my arms, kissing her ripe lips.

Lips I have sorely missed since Wednesday.

I was having some fear and nerves. I hadn’t been intimate with someone I really cared about since April 2014. (See: Annabelle) Cherie was very sweet and soothing. That’s one of the things I really dig about this lady. She just has a great laid back vibe that keeps me relaxed and cool. We really wanted to begin, so she just started to undress. She was down to her burgundy matching bra and panties with white lace trim in no time. (Wowza!)

I have struggled with what I was going to write at this point. If this ever becomes a book or a TV series on HBO, I suppose they can spell it out. I just don’t want to describe our lovemaking  in graphic detail. It would be fun, but Phicklephilly isn’t a pornographic piece. But I will say this. Cherie was patient and loving. But once we got going. There was no stopping us. It was wonderful. It was pretty much all we did all afternoon. The sun went down and so did I. The curtains closed and her thighs opened. Around 9pm we had a pizza delivered to the room. We didn’t sleep much that night. Great thing was… It was daylight savings, so I got to spend an extra free hour with Cherie. We should make this an annual event. We turn the clocks back an hour and we check into a hotel and destroy each other for 20 hours.  I definitely gave her lots of presents for her birthday.

We got a few hours sleep. We had to be out of there by 10:30 at the latest because I had to open the salon at 11am on Sunday. We woke up around 8:30 I think. We proceeded to do one more for the road. I love morning sex. There’s just something hot and turgid about it.

I have to say. Cherie is one of the most sexual women I have ever met. I’m not going to reveal any intimate details, but it was probably not only the best sex I’ve had since 2002, it was the most times in one session. Just spectacular. I call that kind of sex “Chuck Yeager Sex.” Chuck Yeager was the type of pilot that tested planes not to see how fast they could go. He tested them to see what the plane could withstand. That’s what it was like with Cherie. Just like my Pop used to say, “Anything worth doing, is worth overdoing.”

A-fucking-men.

We shared the spacious shower. She said she liked really hot showers, I told her I didn’t. She purposely kept the water not too hot for me. She looks beautiful. The water beading on her glistening brown body was lovely. I stood in the back like the man always has to when you take a shower with a girl. I washed her back while I was standing there. She told me to get up front under the water and get washed up. So I did, and washed my hair and then I was done. I hopped out. “Great now I can crank the hot water.” she said. I laughed and thanked her for not scalding my tender hide. I toweled off and got dressed. She came out a short time later. “I’m a little ashy” she said. “Will you rub some cream on my legs?” So I leaped at that opportunity. (Those shapely supple legs!) She did the rest of her, and finished dressing.

We gathered our things from  the room and headed down to the lobby. We had a solid hour before I had to open the salon. So we checked out and headed over to the Midtown Diner. It felt good to be there. It was the classic scene. You give me great sex and then I take you out to breakfast. I had scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. Cherie had the Hungry Man platter, which is a little bit of everything. (Baby was hungry!) It was delicious and I was feeling great energy. I was a very satisfied lion.

After breakfast I walked her back to the elevator at Two Liberty. She thanked me for everything and for making her birthday magical. I kissed her goodbye and she stepped into the elevator and was gone.

Oh…one last detail.

Last night I told her I loved her.

She said it back.

 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am and 12pm EST.

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