Scarlett – Sexy chica de tamaño más – Part I

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

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I recently went down my list of all of the people I have ever chatted with on Tinder. I may not have spoken to them in a while. I just wanted to touch everyone to simply say, “hello” but mostly to keep feeding this blog with new material. Life once fed the art, but now that I’m meeting so many women, the art is now feeding life. When I started this blog I made a list of over 20 women I had met over the last 10 years and decided they should be a part of this tome. I thought I’d simply write about them all, and maybe a couple other people as they entered my life during the time it took me to cover them all. But I’ve been meeting so many people I can’t keep up with them all! As a writer it’s become a wonderful problem to have.

Like the days when I was in a band or even before that when I was into drawing, I only made art for myself. The pictures I drew were of things I loved and the songs I wrote and our band played were for us. This blog is about my expression. I haven’t written anything in years. (Unless copy for award-winning advertising campaigns counts!) I am happy to say I am writing again. The best compliment you can pay someone is to copy them or try to be like them. I am putting words and stories where there were none before. I feel closest to my creator when I create.

One of the women I said hello to that responded was Scarlett. So we start chatting and she responds with: “Hey! Sorry, I’m rarely on here. Just saw your text.” But then I get a regular text from her on my phone, not Tinder. I’m confused, but who knows? Maybe alcohol was involved. I don’t remember talking to her or exchanging phone numbers. She asked how I’ve been and how we had a whole conversation. She starts going into this story about how we talked when she had just moved back to the US  from the Dominican Republic.  She says she is currently living in University City. I tell her my neighborhood and she says she spends a lot of time down there. I ask her to meet me for a drink. I also provide her with days I’m available. Then she drops this bomb:

Scarlett: “Why should I give you a shot after all this time that has passed?

Me: “That is a choice only you can make.” (I just thought I swiped, she swiped and nothing happened)

Scarlett: “Well of course. But are you planning on making up for lost time?”

Me: “What? What lost time? We’ve never met!”

Scarlett: “Because you stood me up.”

Me: “That is simply not true.” (I’m thinking she’s crazy at this point)

I send her a screenshot of our last conversation on Tinder. I told her that was our last conversation on Tinder, then I never heard from her again. Then we spoke again today.

She then sent me a screenshot of our last conversation, but it was from October 2014. Two years ago! It was me texting her and telling her I had to go meet with a client so I couldn’t have lunch with her that day. I remember now I just didn’t feel like it, so I bailed.

So I obviously apologized. But I did explain to her I technically didn’t stand her up, I cancelled. She said I did it last-minute, but whatever, I don’t remember. But she accepted my apology and decided to give me another chance. But it’s been two years! She said it seemed odd because I was such a gent. So we decided to meet for drinks on Monday.

Stop back in 2 weeks to see what happens on our date.

 

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

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

June – Runs with Scissors

And here we are with yet another Tinder date. I chatted with June for only a short time before we exchanged numbers. We were texting for a bit and it was going well. She seemed fun and age appropriate. I have been trying to spend time with women in my age range but it’s been a struggle. If you read my last blog post, (Rebecca, Dark Wings of Destiny) you can tell that hasn’t been working all that well.

I was trying to figure out a day we could meet for a drink. I told her I was off on Saturdays so we could meetup then. She said that is usually the day she likes to wander, and I told her I enjoyed the same. She asked if I had a dog, and I told her I did not. She said she’d supply the dog. Whatever. But Saturday came and I didn’t hear anything. I reached out and she said she said she had already wandered and done her errands earlier in the day. In Rittenhouse no less! But I kind of didn’t care anyway. I was happy sipping a drink and watching Netflix at home by then.

We continued texting into the evening until finally she said she wanted to talk on the phone. I haven’t done that with anyone yet on Tinder and was a little apprehensive. Not that I mind talking on the phone, but I didn’t think it was necessary.

My phone rings and I miss the call. I call her right back and we connect. So we’re chatting away. I can tell she’s drinking which is not a bad thing. Loosens up the tongue. During our conversation she begins to tell me about her day. Apparently, she was standing on the edge of her bathtub cleaning the walls. She has one of those shower head attachments that can be removed and are connected to a flexible hose. She’s using the shower head to rinse down the shower walls and everything is getting wet. Well she loses her footing and begins to fall. Now, we have all heard about accidents in the home, and people falling in their bathrooms having bad injuries and even death. So she slips off the tub edge and slams butt first onto or into the toilet. I don’t know what her bathroom layout is but the commode must be in close proximity to the tub. It sort of breaks her fall but when she hit it she broke the tank. Water goes everywhere. The shower head is also still running. The tank immediately evacuates its contents onto the floor. Good thing that’s where the clean water is located! She is in a great deal of pain but thankfully didn’t hit her head. She scrambles to her feet and manages to get the shower turned off and then goes for the wall spigot behind the toilet. She cranks that shut and the water stops. What a mess! But she is okay and escapes with only a bruise on her backside. But it’s a nasty bruise. (She later showed me a pic) The whole thing is a bit funny and harrowing but she is okay. It could have been a lot worse.

So the conversation is going well and I’m really enjoying it. She is smart, and funny. It’s a lively chat. I’ll bear that in mind in the future. June tells me that people can sound great in text and once you get them on the phone they fall flat. Why didn’t I think of this? In this modern world where everyone texts and does loads of social media, people don’t have the conversation skills anymore. But once you get someone on the phone, it’s a great way to screen out the people who can’t hold a solid conversation. Better to find out someone is a dullard before you’re stuck out in public with them on a date. So I may pull this move in the future.

She tells me she wants to meet up that night. I tell her, it’s 9pm and I’m down to a T-shirt and a pair of shorts and I’m not getting back into uniform for anyone. She says: “Oh, you’re a fuddy duddy.”

If she only knew…

She says she’s been invited to go see some band play at some place on Van Pelt Street at 10pm. Again, I thank her for the invite and tell her I’m not going. Had it been Rebecca, I would already be at Van Pelt waiting for her. I’m such a fickle asshole. She’s drinking more and so am I and it’s really going well. She’s a spitfire and a blast to talk to. I tell her I’m available Sunday after 4pm and we agree to meet for a drink. So the drinking and chatting goes on and on. Now she’s smoking marijuana as well. She decides that she’s rather talk to me on the phone than go see this band on Van Pelt. I’m surprisingly enjoying our conversation and am looking forward to meeting her. She sounds super fun. I learned a lot about her in that conversation. She has two children, a boy and a girl. She was married for many years  and it ended long ago, and was in a relationship for 7 years after that with some man who cheated on her and left. Or so I thought. But as the truth serum she was gulping down took hold, the truth was revealed. Apparently this other woman was someone they invited into their bed for a three-way. I suppose June’s boyfriend took a liking to their little plaything and ran off with her. June described the girl as younger, fat and covered in tattoos. This all sounds gross to me, but who am I to judge the dalliances of others. I can tell June is a very sexual woman, which is fine. At her age she should be over all of her mind and body issues. She’s drunk and horny. I think this gal has led a wild life. But I like that. I have had a very colorful, action packed adventurous life, and I like people who have had the same. It creates a rich history for a person and they are always more interesting. But, at some point well into the call she simply falls asleep on the phone. I’m like; “Hello? June? Are you there?”

Crickets.

I hang up and look at the length of the call on my phone. We were chatting for 4 hours and 30 minutes! I’m stunned. I’ve never been on the phone that long. (That I can remember) I head off to bed.

The Date

Sunday morning around 8:30am I get a text from her that says simply: “Good Morning.” I have a bunch of stuff to do so I don’t respond. Not to be rude, but I have to get ready and I don’t want to start another all day conversation until I have the time. Around 11:00am I respond, with: “Hello.” She responds at 4:45pm with: “What a lovely day!” Of course I go with my main objective: “Are we meeting for a drink?” She says: “You would think after a four-hour call I would retain details.” Well, she did fall asleep at the end. So I go again with: “Are we meeting for a drink?” She says yes and when? I tell her I am available now. She says she has to wait for her daughter to come pick up the dog and asks if after 6pm would work. I tell her that’s fine. (It would be about an hour from now) So I head to Square 1682 and grab a cider and chat with the bartender and servers.

At 6:15 she tells me she is on her way. She rolls in around 6:30. Here’s the thing. She’s 5’2″ and sturdy. I like tall and short women. I prefer tall because it translates to a longer leg factor. But a petite woman can be just as beautiful. It makes no difference to me. But I realize compared to her photos, this woman before me doesn’t measure up. Hands tell a great deal about a person. June rode horses her whole life. Her hands are strong. Stronger than mine. In her Tinder pics you never get a really good clear shot of her face. She looks like there has been quite a bit of mileage on this one. She has a bit of a nose thing happening too. Normally I like a girl with an interesting proboscis, but hers just looks masculine.  Not horrible, but a little rough. Aged. She’s a fun girl but just not attractive enough.

So we hang out and we’re having a good time chatting and drinking and laughing at the bar. She would be a good girl to have as a friend that maybe you occasionally fool around with, but I can’t see me pursuing her. Which kind of sucks. I mean… I’m already struggling to feel energy for Valerie. (Valerie – Love Me Tinder) Maybe June could hang as a friend to drink with at some good dives. She said she liked going to places like that. I would dig that as well.

Okay, so maybe I’ll keep her around and we’ll see what happens. But girlfriend is off the table.

We decide to wrap it up at Square 1682 after a couple of hours. The bill comes and again, the wallet comes out but she never pulls out her card. And forgive me dear readers, but after two incidents like this with Valerie, and the fact that this woman is not really that hot, I say…”Little help?”

I see what appear to be credit cards in the wallet but she goes for cash and it looks like it’s only seven or eight dollars. It’s 2016. Going out and drinking and eating like Gods is very expensive in this town. Even my much younger ex-girlfriend always kicked in unless I insisted I pay. (Future post: Anabelle Lee) So I feel bad and a little suspicious at this point so I take like $5 from her and pay the damn bill. I’m not cheap. I’m a very generous man. But in this day and age we all need to help. But I will give you this little spoiler. The very next night, I had a date with a different lady and I paid for her two drinks and her fare home. Sadly, you’ll see another aspect as to why Phicklephilly really is the perfect name for this column. I’m really learning a lot about myself. Try writing down everything you’re up to. it’s eye-opening, enlightening, and most of all funny.

So we leave the bar and she says she lives down in Washington Square. We walk south to Pine and say goodnight. We kiss. It’s sexual. Not your standard goodnight smooch. Some one who sucks on your tongue on your first date digs you. (It wasn’t me who did that) So I know based on our 4 hour drunken conversation and this vibe, it would be effortless for me to close this bit of work. But as Ian Gillam says in the Deep Purple song, “It’s not the kill… It’s the thrill of the chase.”

And damn it if I don’t love that part. So I may hang again with June again, but it will be in the afternoon at McGlinchey’s drinking $2 wines and smoking cigarettes.

 

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

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

Rebecca – Chapter 2 – Dark Wings of Destiny

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

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

The Date

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly

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