Joyce – 2016 – Delaware Despair

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

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Still another grinding Tinder date. Gotta keep trying. I swiped right on Joyce, and she did as well. She is 51, with blonde hair and brown eyes. Not a bad-looking lady. She lives in Delaware as you may have guessed. She had only three photos on her profile. Head shots only and no description. In two of the photos she is doing a three-quarter face and looking at the camera with a sideward glance. The third photo is black and white and she is wearing dark sunglasses and looking away from the camera.

Being in sales most of my life, I am pretty good at reading facial expressions and body language. Normally, they say more than any words can express. A sideward glance shows mistrust. A woman who doesn’t do a body pic on her profile, may have some body issues. If you don’t write anything about yourself on your profile, you are either super hot and don’t have to, or you don’t have anything to say.

Let’s see how this plays out.

We chat on Tinder first. She liked what I wrote in my profile about if you don’t look like your pics you have to buy me drinks until you do. So that was good. She said she had only been on Tinder for two weeks. After two weeks she had low expectations. She said that if she actually got to the meeting stage, that would be a score. If there was something more after that, it would be an even bigger score. What she wasn’t looking for was, hookups, or weeks of endless texting with no meet up on the agenda. So that’s another positive in her favor.

I asked her is she ever came to Philly, and she says she comes all the time. I like that. But then she said Baltimore was the “New Philly.”

Strike one.

I tell her I work in business development, and am going to be opening a business in 2017 in personal fitness and tanning. I ask her what she does for a living. She says she has been a dental hygienist her whole life, but no longer practices. (Sounds grindingly horrible) It has taken a toll on her neck and back. But she has had the good fortune to manage the office. She likes problem solving and it keeps her very busy. For fun she loves to travel. Loves the beach, too. (That always worries me. Usually they are boring types that just blow their money on trips to keep their lives interesting because they themselves are not.) She also says she needs to go dancing weekly. (Again. No talking, just moving around. Troubling. No man wants to go dancing ever.) She also likes to take risks. When friends want to do something that no one else will do they call her knowing she’ll be down for it. (They call their good friends first, and settle on you because they know you’re always available because you have no life.)  I’m going to go ahead and call this:

Strike Two.

After some schedule wrangling, we exchange numbers and decide to meet up. It was a Sunday after I was finished at the salon. I liked that she drove all the way up from Delaware to meet me. I’ll give her points for that. Oh, I told her about my writing and she wanted to read it, so I sent it to her. She did read it, and liked it. More points. (It was a screenplay I wrote a century ago.)

We meet at Square 1682. It’s sort of my go to spot in Rittenhouse. I’ve had some great experiences there and dig the staff for the most part. She gets there on time. Points. We sit at the end of the bar. She is reluctant to drink. I respect that. She has to drive. But one drink? We’re going to be here for longer than an hour. But no worries.

I am talking to her and being my usual effervescent self. I’ve run this program countless times and most women find me very engaging. Most people are boring and I bring a rich history of humor and knowledge to the table. But as the time goes by I realize I’m doing all of the talking. She actually asks me if I have ADD. I guess someone with a personality and energy is alien to her. I give her plenty of opportunities to talk but that’s when the conversation falls flat. It literally goes awkwardly quiet. That never happens with me. She’s doing that sideward glance judgemental look to me. Then she wants food. Shit. She’s boring and now I gotta feed this one.

I spring for some calamari for her and I get the octopus. She asks me what my day job is. I don’t like this. I’m the VP of business development for an institute. I told her all of this. I can see why she’s alone. She’s a drag and brings nothing to the table. I am really good at striking up conversations with complete strangers. I can talk to literally anyone. But, I don’t remember much about our date or about her, because she had so little in the way of conversational skills. I don’t even remember is she’s even been married or has any kids. Normally I write notes in my phone after these date so I can write about them, but I just looked, and I have nothing!

Strike Three! You’re out Joyce.

Here’s an interesting tidbit though. Near the end of our date, I look past her and who do I see sitting one seat down from Joyce?

June! (June – 10/2016 – Runs With Scissors)

My first date with June was on a Sunday at Square 1682 two and a half months ago! She’s alone chatting with the bartender, my buddy Tusk. She says hello to me, and wave back. I almost called her by her blog name. It was awkward. She doesn’t hang out at this bar. She’s lonely and is hoping to run into me, or just to talk to hot Tusk. (He is hot, in a rock and roll way. I’ll write about him soon) Now when I get rid of Joyce, I can’t even come back here and review this mess with Tusk. Tusk later texted me, and said that June said that she was cuter than the girl I was with. Okay, for the record, June. 1. You’re not. 2. You both equally suck in different ways.

I sadly have to pay the bill. (She did drive up from Delaware) I walk her to the parking garage, and it ends in not even a kiss on the cheek, (not that I even give a shit at this point) but with the perfunctory hug. Ugh! I ask her to please text me when she safety gets home.

I just make the walk home, because there is nothing left to do.

She texts me later to say that she arrived home safely. She thanks me for “an evening of drinks, snacks, and witty repartee.” (Those are the exact words I wrote in my calendar invite to her about this date) Has she not a single original thought in her head?

I’m never contacting her again. I have better things to do. I should have entitled this chapter, “Delaware Dud.”

Lately this senario has become classic phicklephilly. *sigh*

 

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Church – 2013 to Present -Seizure Salad

I’m sitting in my go to bar with Church. It’s our spot and it’s what we do. He’s sipping a Sailor Jerry and Coke, and I’m having my usual Chardonnay with a side of ice. He orders a salad and I go with the sliders. There is a couple a few seats down from me to my right. I know the guy, his name is Brian, but I don’t know the lady he’s with so I wave but don’t approach. He could be working.

On the left of Church, is a brunette in her thirties and an older gentleman. Looks like a lawyer. We don’t really pay any attention. We’re chatting and doing our thing.

Daphne rolls behind the bar and says hello. She tells me it’s a slow night. Not much happening. She goes back to her hostess stand and it’s just another night in paradise.

Suddenly, the woman who was sitting to Church’s left, goes off the bar stool and hits the floor. Normally, I’d call that Thursday night.  We see so many banged up people around the city losing their shit. But this woman was having a seizure. People within visual range are shocked and the bar goes quiet.

I point to the phone on the wall, because the bartender on duty didn’t see one of her patrons suddenly vanish from the bar. “Liz, call 911.”

She starts dialing. Church, with his cat-like reflexes, springs into action and goes from sitting next to me sipping a drink to all the way around the other side of her on the floor holding her head to keep her steady. I get down there and untangle her leg from the lower rail of his bar stool. I have the legs. Church is focuses on the poor woman’s head. She’s thrashing about, and Church is barking commands to those around him. He’s literally single-handedly coordinating the effort to help save this poor woman, and keeping her from injuring herself further.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but Church was formerly a Corpsmen in the United States Navy.

A Corpsman works in a wide variety of capacities and locations, including shore establishments such as naval hospitals and clinics, aboard ships, and as the primary medical caregivers for sailors while underway. Hospital corpsmen are frequently the only medical caregiver available in many fleet or Marine units on extended deployment. In addition, hospital corpsmen perform duties as assistants in the prevention and treatment of disease and injury and assist health care professionals in providing medical care to sailors and their families.

They may function as clinical or specialty technicians, medical administrative personnel and health care providers at medical treatment facilities. They also serve as battlefield corpsmen with the Marine Corps, rendering emergency medical treatment to include initial treatment in a combat environment. Qualified hospital corpsmen may be assigned the responsibility of independent duty aboard ships and submarines; Fleet Marine Service, SEAL and Seabee units, and at isolated duty stations where no medical officer is available.

Yea, pretty bad ass. That’s the guy you want next to you when somebody takes a header at your favorite bar.

She’s making what almost sounds like barking sounds, and staring wildly about. He’s got a good hold on her. He’s talking to her. But mostly he’s trying to keep her from bashing her face into the wooden wall of the bar. The bartender comes around, and some others have gathered. I grab a cloth napkin and ask if we need to put it in her mouth. I always heard that epileptics could bite or swallow their own tongues. Church says, no. He knows what he’s doing and has the situation well under control.

She seems to be calming down. I look over at the guy who was with her. He’s just standing there staring, and looking uncomfortable. The paramedics come and stabilize her. I feel so bad for her. It’s the holidays, and she’s out for a drinks and this horror befalls her. They get her onto the gurney and roll her out. The police are there and also ask some questions. Church is on point, he gives law enforcement the full report.

They also speak to the guy she came in with. He says he doesn’t know her very well. He met her over at DelFrisco’s steakhouse, and then brought her over here for a drink. That’s a big lawyer hang out. Not my scene. This guy didn’t do anything to help or comfort her when she had the seizure, and he didn’t go to the hospital with her. I don’t care if you just picked up the chick in a bar. Lady falls down, you go to the damn hospital with her. I’m thinking that weasel was married and didn’t want any problems. How would he explain to his wife that he was at the hospital with some other woman? I may be wrong, but I got the vibe something was definitely shady about that guy.

We go back to our seats at the bar and have another drink. Church is pissed because somebody was telling him to turn her head when she was foaming at the mouth and that’s not what you’re supposed to do. Me, I was just glad the lady was okay.

Daphne came over to chat and get a recap. I tell her what I know, and tease her.”You had to say it was a slow night and that nothing was happening, and look what you did, Daph…”

“I know, right? Me and my big mouth.”

Indeed…

 

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Sarika – Song of the Black Widow

God, she’s beautiful. I couldn’t find a stock picture on the internet to capture the delightful beauty of this girl. She is so pretty. Indian. Exotic. The type of beauty you’d almost pay for to be seen with at an event. She is probably one of the most beautiful women I know in Philly. But she recently reached out to me to come hang at a happy hour and a brand new place in Rittenhouse, called Scarpetta. Smith and Wolensky’s is gone and now that place is here. It’s in the Rittenhouse Hotel. She also mentioned that she wants me to come up to her apartment and check out her new place at the Dorchester. I am so glad I have reconnected with her. This vacuous she-devil is such a good character for this work. I am a huge fan of lovely Sarika.

I got to Scarpetta around 5:30. They’ve done a nice job with the place. It’s dark and intimate. The bar looks the same but they’ve opened up the place a bit. There’s only the one bar, but they have a lounge in the back and there is a dining room upstairs. I look around for Sarika but I don’t see her. I’m chatting with the manager and then I look out the window and see her walking towards the building.

Sarika looks amazing as always. We grab a couple of drinks at the bar and sit in this cool little area by ourselves near the window. Rittenhouse Square looks beautiful. It’s all decorated for the holidays.There are strings of bulbs in the trees and the whole park twinkle with light. She is having some sort of light pink beverage that I didn’t catch the name of, and I’m having the old-fashioned. Normally, cocktails are around fifteen dollars, but during happy hour they’re half price. So that’s something I can live with for now.

I ask her what she’s been up to and she says she’s been going on a lot of dates. Turns out that weasel she wanted to bring to my eighty dollar a plate New Years party last year has been gone for a while. I remember she was so into that guy. Apparently they were together off and on for two years. She says she wasted her best years on him and now she’s old. She’s 28! Come on Sarika, you are still but a child. She said he was a jerk to her and probably never loved her. I get her laughing, and start thinking that the black widow isn’t so bad after all. She may be smart as a whip, but she’s still a young woman navigating her way through love and life. I even joke that she probably has a blood-red hour-glass tattooed on her belly.

I do love pretty things, and she is no exception.

I tell her she looks great as always. She has been in some sunny destinations lately, so her skin is a darker brown than normal. I like it. It makes her look even more mysterious and exotic. I mention it and she immediately asks if I think it looks ugly. She always says things like that. She is so smart but so immature at the same time. She’s also a bit of a chatterbox. I think most men can’t handle that and don’t like a girl who talks too much. I don’t mind it. I like a girl who has things to say and experiences to share. I love to talk and entertain a woman, so it’s nice when I have a chatty girl so I don’t have to do all of the work. Women like a good listener and I grew up with three sisters. But what I can’t stand is what Carol used to do. Just babbling on nonstop like a tire spinning in the snow. (See: Carol 5/2014 to 8/2016 – There’s No Fun In Dysfunction)

I once read that women speak up to 20,000 words a day, compared to men, who speak only 12,000. So when we get home…We’re done!

It is puzzling how a woman this strikingly beautiful can’t keep a man. But the more you’re around her the more it makes sense. She says she’s been finding men on an app called J Swipe. It’s like Tinder for Jews. I asked her why that app? She said Jewish men normally appreciate women more, have good jobs, and have money. Sounds like she’s hunting for a husband. I think one of the challenges Sarika is facing is that she may be viewed more as a conquest. A creature to be captured and checked off of some list, because she’s so beautifully exotic.

She said she went out with a guy on Monday and even had a date with a pilot after our happy hour. So I assume I won’t be getting a tour of that gorgeous apartment in her building tonight. Sarika has a very busy life. She travels a great deal for her job as a scientist. I know she was formerly an engineer, but now I guess she’s a scientist. She makes great money and spends her other free time hopping on planes and taking little trips. It sounds like a fun life with all of the dating, and jet setting vacations, but it almost seems like she doesn’t want to be alone in her apartment. She’s crazy dating now. It’s good that she’s getting out there and meeting people after two years wasted with weasel man. But again, I can see men wanting her because she’s so beautiful, but she’s kind of annoying to talk to for any length of time. So if they get the opportunity to sleep with her they may not stick around.

Sarika is very intelligent and a nerd. I have taken her to Science after Hours at the Franklin Institute in the past. She loved it like a child. We went to see Jurassic World last summer, and Guardians of the Galaxy is her favorite movie. If my friend Duncan finds that up he’ll probably move up here from North Carolina. You would think guys would find that hot. A pretty girl who likes guy stuff and sci-fi, but it hasn’t worked. Maybe one of these many men that she is meeting for dates, will be rich and just marry her as a trophy wife. But sadly, people are funny about race in this country. They may want to sleep with a hot girl, but they may not want to bring and Indian woman back home to meet the family. I personally I have nothing against it. If you have been reading this blog, you know I love all different kinds of women. As Hank Moody says in the show Californication, “I got all your albums. I love you all and you and you included, Sarika.”

My buddy Church shows up at Scarpetta. I’m happy to see him. Once Sarika  goes on her date at One Tippling Place up the street, he and I can go to Square 1682 and have a drink. Church knows everybody in the restaurant and bar business in this town, so when he orders a drink and the server brings it over, she says, “This one is on Nathan.” He’s the GM there so Church got the hook up. I get another drink, but Sarika is only having the one so she doesn’t show up drunk for her date at 7:00.

While I was waiting at the bar to get my drink, Church chatted with Sarika. I was a little glad that it took the bartender a little time to get to me and make my drink. Normally I don’t like that, but I thought it would give Church a chance to talk to Sarika.

I get back to our little area by the window. We all chat a bit more. Sarika has to go soon, so she heads back to the ladies room. Church tells me she wouldn’t stop talking and it was driving him crazy. He’s been on edge lately, and listening to Sarika go on about something was annoying him. He said something to the effect, “I wanted to put a gun in my mouth.” He said she is so vacuous and self-absorbed and all she talked about was herself.

He once said that about another attractive girl who talked a lot. He was in a car with her and she was talking non stop and he said, “I wanted to leap right out of the car while it was going 70 miles per hour down the highway.”

Sarika returns, and I put her coat on for her. I tell her I will pay for the one drink she had. She tells me she’ll get me next time. I give her a kiss on the cheek good-bye and she’s off. I get the bill for my two old-fashioneds and her dainty drink. It should come to over $22 plus tax. I look at it and it’s only $15. So I got the hookup because I was with Church.

Dude certainly has the power.

I think next we’ll do a happy hour with my friend Carly.  So the night went well and again without incident.

So maybe my pretty little arachnid is finally growing up.

I love Sarika. She is beautiful, and I enjoy her company, if nobody else does, and I can’t wait to see her again.

(Oh… and if you’ve somehow found this and other stories Sarika, I’ll understand if you cut me off. The truth always hurts more than fiction)

 

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

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Michelle – Chapter 1 – A Brand New Day

I think this is why I started this blog. I have been wanting to write this story for a very long time, but just have not had the will or energy to write anything. But since I’ve made some changes in my life, the art has returned to me and it’s flourishing. I have two friends that I socialize with. One of them is a brilliant artist who smokes too much weed and drinks too much coffee just to function all of the time. Her name is Trish. She’s not doing anything with her talent. Soon she’ll be 30 and will have smoked her youth away. The other one is always saying he needs to start writing a blog again. My friend Johnny R. His would be brilliant. I even went so far as to tell him that I would pay him $20 in beers if he would just publish four blog posts. But what’s his problem? Complacency and vice. He has been with the same girlfriend for the last 8 years. She’s older than he is, she owns the house they live in, and her family owns the shore house they stay in during the summer. He loves adderal, Budweiser, tobacco, cocaine, gambling and hookers. That’s a lot of vice. The secret to moving forward in life? Forgive everyone. Including yourself. If you have resentment for anything in your life, you have to constantly maintain those thoughts in your head. You only have to forgive ONCE. Let go of the bars that are keeping you in your rusted cage and take a step forward. Just one step. In any direction. Just one step. But these people have it all in their heads and they just never do it. Don’t get me wrong, I like both of these people very much, but it’s just sad they can’t grow as people.

I am determined to move forward and tell these stories. My stories.

I had just returned from New York. I was working at a consulting firm and they laid off a bunch of us because business was slow. I was kind of tired of Manhattan anyway. I took a job selling advertising for a news agency in Philadelphia. It was the Fall of 2007.

It was a big company, but out of all of the women that worked there, only two were absolutely beautiful. One was blonde and one was a brunette. I met the brunette in my department and loved her immediately and would always try to talk to her. She had some loser boyfriend who would play video games every night and ignore her while she sat on the couch and knit. Pretty pathetic, right? I once told her if I she were at my house sitting on the sofa, I’d throw the X Box out the window. Because that chick had to be way more fun than any video game.

But the other beauty was the blonde. Michelle.  This chick had hit the genetic lottery. 27 years old. 5’11”.  Model pretty. Slamming body, and great legs. As a matter of fact she was a former print and runway model and a National Champion swimmer. Swam with Olympian Amanda Beard. She was much younger than me and everybody wanted her and loved her. The thing about her was that she was very nice. She worked in billing and although I thought she was attractive, I really didn’t ever consider her as a romantic target. She was just too amazing and hot for me to bother.

Or so I thought.

She had moved to Philly a few years before from Delaware. Who wants to live in Delaware? She had broken up with her boyfriend that she had been with since she was 15. I know right? He was a house painter who smoked weed and seemed the type that couldn’t “work for the man.” She grew weary of his immaturity and they broke up.

Michelle was also friends with this little weasel that worked somewhere in our department. I never understood that relationship. He was in love with her like Dudley Moore was in love with Susan Anton. (google it youngsters) Like I said, she worked in billing and was growing tired of it. Michelle was making decent money but thought she could make more in ad sales. Advertising sounds sexy, but it is a grinding 9 to 5 job filled with rejection and despair. So her weasel friend warned her against it. But she went and spoke to my then boss, Herbert. Herbert was married and had a good degree. Married, a few kids, the usual drill. But he had eyes for Michelle as well. But like I said, she was light years out of these clown’s league.

Herbert wanted to bring her onto our little team. Our crew consisted of me, some young guy who seemed semi-retarded and mushy, a plain woman who had most of the accounts and hardly ever came in, and this Jersey Shore type guy who was greek, handsome, fit, tan, and had an I.Q around room temperature. He hardly came in either. He had been assigned some accounts and his stuff just rolled in. On any given day, the retard, the mom, and Jersey Shore would all be there. Retard would be making his calls, Mom would be working on her stuff and then leaving early and Jersey Shore would be playing online blackjack on his computer. You’ve seen his the type, in the club. Like a pack of four or five of them in their striped shirts and red bull cocktails, and pockets full of rohypnol. I’m half kidding. I got a kick out of Jersey Shore guy. I would make fun of him to his face and he liked it.

So Herbert wants to bring her aboard.  She’s never sold anything in her life but I know she could do well. Just show up and talk about the product and the guy will probably buy from her just so Michelle comes in his store again. Herbert wants her so he can see her everyday and be close to her. Michelle denies this to this day, but I know people. Hey, if I were Herbert in his domestic existence I would have done the same thing. But at that time I was no one in that company. Just the oldest dude on the team but with the most experience in sales. That was all that was needed.

One day I had an issue with the billing on the very first account I had brought in. It was Trump Casino in Atlantic City. I was so proud of that account. At the time I had no idea that Trump was slow pay. Sometimes, no pay. This may seem ironic at this moment in time, but it was known for years in Jersey that Trump was bad pay. He put hundreds of hard-working solid people out of work because he has a history of not paying his bills. Not kicking our current presidential candidate, but for this forum, the guy is a well-known deadbeat in Atlantic City, I’m shocked more people haven’t come forward in the last couple of months.

So I had to go down to billing and figure it out. But I was new and I didn’t know where it was. So I went to Michelle and asked her. She seemed annoyed that she had to deal with me. Maybe she was just tired. She starts giving me directions and I’m not getting it. The building was huge. Finally she simply gave up and said;  “I’ll show you.”

So here goes this gorgeous tall goddess walking down the hall. Her calves like upside down bowling pins, and her high heels clicking against the tile floor. Here’s me, scuttling along behind her in my cheap old suit and cheap shoes with rubber soles. The soles squeak with every step, so it’s like seeing Aphrodite being followed by Sponge Bob Squarepants.

Pathetic. We get to the department and she turns and goes back to her office. I felt like a loser.

But that was all was about to change.

The Michelle story is epic. I will publish a new chapter every other week over the next 7 months.

Enjoy!

 

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.

Welcome to Phicklephilly

This blog is about my life here in Philadelphia, people I meet, and the experiences I’ve had with them. Mostly women. I’m a gentleman, but I’ve been told I’m very fickle. My goal is to bring you the best dating and relationship content I can.

I appreciate you reading, commenting on, and most of all following my blog. 

I publish every day at 8am and 12pm EST.

Please check out my Collections tab. There you’ll find a list of all of the great collections of stories that are so fun to read.

Here is a list to get you started!

*** Go to the SEARCH widget on the Homepage and simply enter the name of the series you’re interested in, and off you go!

Here’s the list:

Celebrity Sightings

Crazy Dating Stories

Dating and Relationship Advice

Miscellaneous Stories 

Sun Stories

Tales of Rock

Tinder Moments

Wildwood Daze

 

More to come!

 

I also have several series about all of the people I’ve met here in my 10 years in Philadelphia.

*** Go to the SEARCH widget on the Homepage and simply enter the name of the person and you can read their series!

Annabelle

Carol

Cherie

Clarice

Dina

Eliana

Johnny R.

June

Kylie

Maria

Marisa

Mary

Michelle

Rebecca

Sarika

Trish

Valerie

 

If you’d like, you can just cut and paste the names into the SEARCH widget on the home page and go from there.

If anyone out there knows an easier or a better way to do this please let me know!

Thank you for your continued support!

 

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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