Cheyanne – 2016 to Present – Elegant Power

“I have to meet the Queen Bee.”

I’ m finally ready to write about this rare bird.  I had the honor of meeting Cheyanne thorough a twisted contact of mine. I was introduced to Cheyanne through Carol. (See: Carol – 2015 to 2016 – No Fun in Dysfunction) Carol is one of the may parasites that desperately tried to attach themselves to this glowing force. Cheyanne has the power to empower women in business and help them focus on what will make that business grow and be prosperous,

But not everyone that comes to Cheyanne is a suitable subject. But like myself our hearts are always open to help those around us. It’s in our nature, It’s what we do. I’m sure Cheyanne met poor Carol at some women’s networking event and opened her heart. I get this. I’ve done the same a hundred times in this business.

I work in advertising and have many connections and I am always willing to really help those around me. I believe a community is built with relationships not transactions, and Cheyanne shares my philosophy in regard to this.

If you go and read my blog about Carol it is an attempt for us to help her but she’llhave to find her own way. We were all there for her every step of the way. We give everybody a lot of chances. Why not? The world has given us chances and we all appreciate the do-overs.

Cheyanne is a career and business coach that works with women in Philadelphia and the tri state area to help women build their businesses.

She is  a woman on a mission. A mission to help people realize their fullest potential, and provide them with the tools and support to reach that potential. Her passion is empowering others to realize their passions and goals, and facilitate the aligning of their passions with their work or their businesses, leading to a more fulfilling, purposeful life and career. Cheyanne believes that you can be wildly successful and feel fulfilled and satisfied in your life and your career.

I went to a party at Tir na Nog and was invited by Carol. I was happy to see her despite the usual tensions and went there. I got there early. I get to the table and I see that it’s not just a couple of people but an absolute gaggle of beautiful women.

I take a seat and get my usual chardonnay with ice and am happy I am surrounded with all that I love. I get to have great conversations with some fascinating women. Business owners, entrepreneurs, and the up and coming.

I was most impressed by a little lady that had started her own cosmetic company. She was so beautiful and shy but I loved her confidence when it came to ger product, The thing she made was her voice. I loved that and made her a favorite.

I have been in sales my whole life so I can easily spot the leader. I saw her immediately. She was in the middle of the table. but I knew.

It was Cheyanne

Cheyanne is a petite, fit, young lady that doesn’t catch you with her emerald eyes or her lovely vermillion tresses, but her voice. You see the crowd and you know instantly she’s the boss.

There were all of these lovely minds at the table. I actually couldn’t believe I was privy to this but I was happy to be here. As usual, Carol was painfully late and blowing it. I was supposed to come on as her intro but without her I don’t know anyone. But being who I am I just dive into this table of delicious female pulchritude.

I have to meet the queen bee.

I introduce myself and meld into the group. I feel like that I’m an alien visitor to this convent of women that I shouldn’t belong,  but I’m here now and I’m feeling the energy from all of these amazing women.

I love this. I don’t care if crazy complicated Carol ever shows up. I’m honored to be at this table with all of these wonderful, empowered women. I’m the only man here, so as I sip my chardonnay with ice I’m comforted with the thought that these lovely gazelles feel safe with this lion in their presence.

A lion that grew up with three sisters and understood women at an early age. I knew I could never get in the bathroom! I love them all for different reasons.

I have secret intel few men have to grow up with women. I’m happy to know all of my sisters and it’s helped me to know women in my life. But it’s never stopped me from making tragic mistakes in the ways of love. But that’s a completely different thing,

Carol is late as usual. I am having a lovely time with the ladies as always. I feel safe and I’m fascinated about everything they do. Hearing about their businesses and their aspirations is intoxicating to me because the world would be a better place if we would just let women run it.

Mutual communication and peace on Earth, I think as I down my 3rd glass of chardonnay.

I say I’m going out for a smoke.

A few gather with me and I can trust a lady that enjoys a bit of vice. We head out through the big gold doors of the Phoenix and end up on the steps on 16th street.

I am surprised when Cheyanne appears. She asks if I have a cig and of course I yield to her.

I never expected this. An hour ago I didn’t know any of these women.  I’m supposed to meet Carol who hasn’t even shown up. I’m having a better time without her!

Cheyanne is holding court on the front steps of the Phoenix and I’m surrounded by her squad. I love where I am right now,  She’s smoking and we’re drinking wine and I feel real power here with her team.

We go back inside and all is good and fun. Conversation and fellowship flow like liquid even though I’m the ony man there.

Keila shows up (see: Keila – The Gaza Stripper – 2012 to present) with BiBi (See: Bibi Matinee Madness) and that is nothing but a distraction to all of the great energy happening at this table.

I’m always warm to Keila but she’s always swarming with fleas and ticks. (shity people) I give Bibi a chilly reception.

Carol shows up late as usual for no real reason, and I’m ready to bail and so is Cheyanne and her squad so I said my goodbyes and went on home.

I met some fantastic women that night and I am very happy to have been invited to this event by Carol.

I look forward to meeting up with Cheyanne again soon!

 

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Abigail – I Can’t Even…

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

Here is another Tinder date. We both swiped right and started chatting. After a bit of that we exchange numbers. Abigail is a cute 26-year-old woman. She is about 5’3″, long brown wavy hair, green eyes, and fair skin. She’s fit and attractive. She arrives wearing a light blouse and a lovely red and white skirt accented by a large white purse.

We meet at Ruth Chris’ Steakhouse on 18th Street. The space was formerly the old Elephant and Castle. I have some great memories with my ex-girlfriend Michelle there. They have spent over $1.2 million on the remodel. The place is gorgeous. I’ll have to see how the food is. Abigail picked the place, and I’m wondering what this is going to cost me.

The place was surprisingly quiet, and she asks for a mistress booth. There are booths that when you sit in them, they pull a privacy curtain across the front of the booth. This way no one can see you. It’s very private. I like that she picked this type of table, because maybe she has some private sexy fun in store for me. I’m down for anything she wants to do.

We order some light fare. Abigail goes with the seared ahi tuna, and I go for the grilled barbecue shrimp. She said she knows this place is expensive, so she thinks we should just have some appetizers and drinks. I couldn’t agree more! A girl who likes the upscale spots, likes some privacy, and has a thrifty side. She just became more attractive to me. Abigail orders a double cuba libre and I go for my usual vodka martini, straight up with a twist.

The conversation is going okay. She seems nice. She works at a local bank as a client services representative. I like that because I used to work in retail banking myself many years ago. So much has changed in the financial industry, but some things still remain the same. Abigail is cute. As we used to say in the banking industry, “I’d like to make a deposit into her account. No penalty for early withdrawal!”

I’m feeling good and sipping my cocktail. But I start to notice something a bit odd. I notice she’s taking some small bits of her ahi tuna and ripping them up with her fingers and putting them into her huge purse.

What the hell? Is she stealing food for later? I mean…I’ve seen people do that with rolls and bread, but not fish.

So naturally I call her out on it. She smiles and says, “Oh, I’m just feeding Ernie.”

“Who?”

And with that she pulls out a fat guinea pig from her purse. I swear to God.

She plopped the thing in the middle of the table and it just kinda chilled out. I can’t believe this is happening.

“You can’t bring and animal in here.”

“That’s why I wanted this table, so we could have some privacy.”

“Here comes the server. Put that thing away.”

“His name is Ernie!” She hissed, as she stuffs the little brown and white creature back into her bag.

“How are you guys doing over here?” says our smiling server.

“I’ll have another martini, and the lady will have another rum and coke.”

The server leaves to go fetch our second round.

“Do you carry that thing around with you all of the time?”

“Ernie is my pet companion. Like Paris Hilton and her little dogs.”

“Yea, but she’s a millionaire, and famous…and those are dogs. You’re carrying around a rodent!”

“Keep your voice down!”

The server returns with our cocktails. I thank her and take a healthy gulp of the icy medication.

“I think this is some sort of health code violation.”

Abigail pulls “Ernie” back out onto the table.

“I really don’t think you should be….”

And that’s when I felt her foot travel along my leg and up to my crotch. I take my eyes off the little fella and look into her emerald eyes. They twinkle, and she gives me a sly grin.

“Okay…okay… Well he is kind of cute.”

I played with the little fella as Abby’s foot played with mine through my pants.  Ernie, was soft and cute. I on the other hand, no longer was!

He was really a chill little dude. I’m glad I’m drinking through this date. (Martinis help in any situation where everything doesn’t make sense) After a while, I could tell she was getting a little jealous of how well Ernie and I were bonding. I don’t have any pets, but I have had them in the past. Cats mostly.  My father always told me to touch an animal like you would a woman. Very gently. Living things respond to a gentle touch. Abigail was getting fed up at me for playing with Ernie, and back in the purse he went. She also withdrew her foot from my crotch. I could tell that after not eating much, and two double rum and cokes, our girl was getting a bit tipsy.

I was ready to bail and leave, but she mentioned she could go for some ice cream. At this point I figured what the hell, and was cool with it. Maybe it would sober her up. My father used to say he would eat ice cream after he drank, because the milk fat neutralized the alcohol. I always believed that, but most of the time it just made me puke. I also later found out that maybe the ice cream settled his stomach or coated it, there was no ‘neutralization of the alcohol. It was already in your bloodstream by then. But if it worked for my father…

So be it.

So we go to Ben & Jerry’s over on Sansom Street. The place is empty. We get to talking about tattoos and piercing, (none of which I have) and she tells me she has nipple piercings, and I’m like “Oh?” and then she pulls down her shirt, in the middle of Ben and Jerry’s at 8pm and shows me her tits. I just kind of went poker-faced. So then I decide to walk her to her to the corner and hailed her a taxi. She “kiss attacks” me, and well, she WAS kinda cute, so I made out with her, sort of…Her lips were tense the whole time and she licked my teeth.

I bid her and “Ernie” a fond farewell, as I watch the cab disappear up 18th street.

A few days later, I accepted her friend request on Facebook.  I noticed that she had a Facebook page for her guinea pig that had more Facebook friends than I did.

I didn’t hear from her for a while. I was kind of glad about that, because let’s face it, the chick is crazytown.

A few months later the guinea pig died and its Facebook was a memorial page where a bunch of people commented how much they missed it. I ‘liked’ one of her statuses and she called me crying. She was hysterical. I calmed her down and promised her we would go out soon, to help ‘mourn her loss’. (Bold faced lie)

I eventually unfriended her, but not the guinea pig.

RIP:  Ernie

 

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Prova – 2015 to Present – Glow of the Sun – Many Happy Hours

“The girl with the lovely smile…”

Finally caught up with busy girl Prova! I had three appointments before my meeting with her that day. The first was with some clown from Brown Forman. I emailed him to confirm our lunch meeting and he responded with “I’d rather do this as a phone call.” So I cancelled that appointment. My second appointment was with the General Manager at The Hard Rock Cafe at 12th and Market. But VP Mike Pence was in town, and President Trump was coming the next day and staying at the Lowe’s Hotel right across the street.  The streets were all blocked, and when I got there the GM said he’s got the Secret Service here and could we do this another day? I see that this part of the city is a shit show so I tell him we’ll reschedule. Then my 3:30 meeting with hot redhead Cheyanne, (whom I’ve been meaning to write about but we can never get our schedules together) gets cancelled, because Cheyanne had been complaining about a migraine she’s been fighting all day. So that’s three down, and one more chance to go before I just give up and go home.

I check in with Prova and she is on her way. We decided to try some different places that we had previously discussed. (See Prova – 2015 to Present – Glow of the Sun) I meet her at Frankie Bradley’s. That bar formerly was a gay bar that was pretty much exclusively for lesbians. (It was called Sisters) But now it’s what I think is just a regular neighborhood bar. Based on some of the signage out front, I think they do a lot of drag shows there. Anyway, it’s a good spot to hang out. We catch up and have a couple of drinks. She tells me she had recently applied for a job there as a bartender. We get a hold of the manager and he comes over to chat. She tells him that she had applied, and he asks her to send him an email and reference her resume. So maybe our lady Prova will be working there soon. It seems like a nice place. We tell the bartender we’re trying some new bars, and he suggests Toast on Walnut. So after we pay our bill we go there.

Toast on Walnut is what the owners from “Sisters” made their new bar. So we walk in and there is a young lady at the door, who cards Prova. She doesn’t card me and I fret that I’m obviously over twenty-one. We all laugh and she asks to see my ID.

Inside it’s a nice bar. The bar itself is whitish blue and appears to be illuminated from within. I stick with the vodka and club and Prova sips a red wine. There aren’t many people in the place, but it’s early. The place is so new, it even smells new! Fresh wood and leather. We decide we’re only going to have one here, and then we’re going to go somewhere else. It’s a nice place but it just seems dead at the moment. So before we leave I tell Prova that I’m going to use the restroom. I walk back through all of the rainbow-colored lights, and walk into the bathroom.

Surprisingly, there is a dude in there using the urinal. But they aren’t your typical urinals. They’re not the vertical, rectangular boxes, with privacy barriers on the sides. These are just oval-shaped deep bowls sticking out of the walls, with no barriers. He’s shaking his dragon away in that little bowl, and I decide to use the stall. I just need a little privacy. I do what needs to be done and I come out of the stall, and see a woman with dark hair drying her hands at the sink.

It’s Prova!

Apparently, they must only have the one community restroom. I was shocked to see her at first.

“What are you doing in here?”

“I just wanted to wash my hands.”

“What if I’d been using one of those little urinal bowls over there when you walked in?”

“I don’t know.”

“You would have gotten a glimpse of what everybody in town is talking about!”

Honest mistake! But that was a close call I wasn’t expecting in a lesbian themed bar. We decide to head over to Boxers. That’s another gay bar on Walnut. It’s a sports bar. But all of the bartenders and staff, walk around with no shirts on. So even though it’s primarily a gay bar, there’s always something for the ladies to look at. All the guys are young and in great shape. I actually like going to boxers. I’ve been there twice. Both times with female friends. Think about it… If you’re a straight guy with female friends it’s the perfect spot. You’re able to watch sports, drink and eat. No assholes are going to mess with you or your friend, because gay dudes are nice. Your friend gets to take in the eye candy, and you do your thing. Everybody wins. We have gentleman’s clubs, at least it gives the ladies something to look at when their out with their male friends. I know most men don’t have female friends. But the men reading this should try. All women that like hanging out with you aren’t targets for you to try to bang. We’d all be better men if we had more female friends. Do it!

We order up some pizza and nachos and go to town on that. We were both hungry so we destroyed most of it. We enjoyed a few drinks there and chatted with the friendly staff. They used to have these drink cards that they would hand out. Every time you bought a drink they gave you a card and the next one was super cheap. So it kept you at the bar longer. It was a great deal! But I asked about it when I was there and the guys told me they can only do that in their NYC location now. When asked why, they said that it’s unlawful in Pennsylvania to encourage people to drink more. Technically it’s not, but it does keep you drinking more and for a longer period of time. PA has a lot of liquor laws because it’s controlled by the Alcohol and Liquor Control Board, which is a state-run agency.

Satisfied with our excursion into the Gayborhood, we decided to have a nightcap at the bar where she works. We hung out at a table and she had a beer and I stick with the vodka and club I had been drinking all night. Some of her co-workers would stop by the table and chit-chat. It was great. There is one guy there, I forget his name, but he’s really funny to talk to. I think he’s Prova’s favorite there.

Prova is a lovely, smart woman who I am glad to have as a friend. I like spending time with her. She continues on her spiritual journey of self discovery in the hospitality industry. I will do whatever I can to help her. Because that’s what we all should do.

Incidentally, it was the longest time I ever hung out with Prova.

Five hours!!!

 

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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Mary – 2014 to Present – Chapter 5 – Sunday, Funday

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

I text Mary and ask her if she wants to have a drink with me on a rainy Sunday after four when I finish up at the salon. She agrees. She wants to hear the crazy story about Marisa because it all happened at the restaurant where Mary works as a hostess. (See Marisa – 2017 to Present – The Friendly Hostess) 

Mary and I like to hang out and drink, but we’re trying to keep our costs down. I suggest Doobies. She’s down for that. We meet at 22nd and Walnut. Umbrellas open we walk south to 22nd and Lombard.

Doobies is a bar that’s been in the neighborhood for a long time. It’s sort of a dive, but the food is good, and the drinks are cheap. There are all sorts of artifacts on the walls like any other dive. But the big theme there is David Bowie. There are pictures of him throughout the bar, and plenty of Bowie on the jukebox. Oh, and they only take cash.

We arrive, and the place appears to be closed. But it’s 4:30 on a Sunday, and the door is unlocked. We go inside to get out of the rain. I see a phone on the bar, and I call out hello a few times. Then some guy comes up out of trap door in the floor behind the bar. I greet him, and he says that she’s not here yet. I don’t know who “she” is, but it said they open at 2pm on Sundays. He says she normally gets there around 5pm.

Mary doesn’t feel like waiting around for a half hour. We thank him, and I tell her I have another plan. We go to South street, and walk over to 21st. Ten Stone is a bar there. A bit nicer than Doobies, but on a rainy day, we’ll settle. It’s a little noisy, because some young people are playing pool and darts in the next room. But it’s not too bad. It’s a nice crowd and the server is friendly.

Mary goes with red wine. Good choice on a chilly, rainy day. I go with some sort of hoppy beer and a shot of whiskey. It’s just been that sort of week. Just the stress of working at the institute, dealing with Marisa the other day, and just everything else that is exhausting me lately.

I tell her all of my stories and after a while I’m feeling much better. I don’t know if it was me telling Mary what my week was like, or the whiskey knocking the edges off. Probably a little of both.

The table where we were siting was small. It was a high top against a wall. We were having a great time laughing and talking, and I was a little worried about Mary’s wine glass.

Have you ever been out at a restaurant, and you just get that vibe, or that premonition that you feel like something’s going to get dropped, knocked over or spilled?

Well I got that feeling early on, and didn’t Mary knock over her wine? I knew that thing was going over. It splashed on her shirt, but didn’t completely empty the glass. She actually got one last mouthful out of that glass, before heading to the restroom to clean up.

She seemed a little buzzed. She got buzzed like this before that Pollyanna holiday party, two weeks ago. I needed to take charge of this situation. So while she was in the bathroom, I paid the bill, and called her an UBER. Normally I would be crying about having to pay the bill, but I dig Mary, and she always pays when we go out. Maybe she’s tired or drinking on an empty stomach. She comes out, and it looks like she got the wine stain out before it could set.

I put her in the UBER and send her home. I tell her to text me when she gets home, so I know she arrived safely. The rain has stopped and I’m close to home so I just walk. I light a cig, and reflect on the evening’s events.

I get home and I have a text from Mary, saying she’s home. Another Sunday down.

 

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Clarice – 2016 – Chapter 6 – Happy Birthday, Baby – Part Two

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

So it feels like we’re driving forever. I feel like I’m a million miles from the city. I really love living in center city, despite its problems. Driving through the rolling countryside of Pennsylvania this time of year, sort of bums me out. I’m just going by all of these big houses all isolated out here. It reminds me of the suburbs in South Jersey. Another depressing time in my life. I don’t like being out here. But again, I’ll be good because it’s her special day.

We finally get to the park. It’s a nice place and it’s not too cold out. It’s a pretty huge park. You can walk through it, but it actually has a road through it. So you’re not walking on any dirt paths. There’s a few people around. Mostly couples, families and people jogging or walking their dogs. Walks in the park in the winter aren’t really my cup of tea. Walks in the park anytime aren’t really my cup of tea. I’d rather be in a bar in the city, having a drink and a cig.

As we walk further into the park, I can feel a mix of anxiety and depression wash over me.

I think it was because all of the trees are bare for the winter, and I’m in a strange place.

There is actually something comforting about being in a city. I have some of my happiest memories back in Philly. I also am starting to get a very real vibe that I have to find a restroom soon. Brunch is starting to work on me. Not good.

We were out there for a while and I did see a port-o-potty out there. It almost beckoned to me off in the distance. But I just didn’t want to go in there. I figured I could make it back to the main area and find a restroom there.

During our walk through the park there was some good conversation and laughs. I also kissed her a few times. That was nice. She tells me how she’s had Bells palsy before. She feels like it has affected how her face looks and moves. I didn’t even notice anything.

Find out more here: http://www.webmd.com/brain/tc/bells-palsy-topic-overview#1

But now that she’s mentioned it, I see it. Normally it clears up after a few weeks and your face goes back to normal, but it appears in her case some of the paralysis has remained. I don’t mind, because it’s hardly noticeable and she’s still attractive.

We finally get back to the beginning of the park, and I tell her I need to use the restroom. I head over to the little building, praying to God that the door isn’t locked yet. Because the sun is nearly down and it’s getting dark.

Thankfully, the door is open and I make it to the stall. It’s a huge relief when my cheeks hit the bowl, and I’m sort of glad that it’s an outdoor bathroom. I’ll leave it at that.

I return to my lady, and we walk around the main property. There is a mansion there. It really looks cool. We stroll around the property and there are some more kisses exchanged.

I have been with her for five hours now, and I’d be fine with just going home. I’m also kind of dreading waiting for the train at 69th street. She wants to take me to her house for a drink. I’m fine with that, we’ll see what happens.

Her house is quaint. She lives on the first floor, and rents out the second floor to a retired gentleman.

I make myself a vodka and ginger ale, and she’s making some sort of cosmo or something. We retire to her living room. We’re just hanging out on her couch chatting and sipping our drinks. She then gives me a tour of the house. Now, this house is pretty cozy, and I’m assuming built maybe back in the forties or fifties. But she hits the lights in her bathroom, and I am blown away. It’s been completely remodeled and redesigned. Against the back right corner is a huge glass shower, with a stone floor. The commode is across from it. In the center of the room is a huge jacuzzi type tub. Along the south wall is a huge double vanity, and get this; the floor is heated. It’s one of the greatest personal bathrooms I’ve ever seen. Had I known this before, I may have been able to hold it until I got here so I could have dropped a deuce like a king!

She said it was a present from her father. She had purchased the jacuzzi tub and then didn’t have enough money to finish her dream lavatory. She said it sat in a huge box in her bedroom for a long time, and her father kicked in a bunch of money to finish the bathroom. It’s a killer bathroom, but it’s an over improvement to the house. I can’t for the life of me understand why one older woman would want a bathroom this nice. But maybe someone out there does. I guess if it makes her happy and she spends a lot of time in the bathroom, it works. But it’s just a weird purchase. It’s obvious she doesn’t have much money.  She’s sixty-two and her daddy is still buying stuff for her house. He’s got to be well into his nineties, so maybe he doesn’t give a shit about the money at that age. I guess if I had a tub like that, I’d be in there with a bunch of booze, and get a flat screen in that bathroom.

We had another drink and hung out in her living room again. I wasn’t getting a vibe that sex was happening, and frankly I didn’t care. It shouldn’t be something I was wondering about, or deciding if I think it should happen. It should be a spontaneous celebration of how we feel about each other. And I’m just not feeling it.

She volunteers to drive me home. I am overjoyed that I don’t have to wait at 69th street station tonight. It doesn’t take as long as I thought it would, and soon I am on my street in front of my building. We kiss goodnight and I thank her for the ride, and for choosing me to spend her 62nd birthday with her.

She drives off. Tomorrow she’ll discover the black and pink scarf I hid in her dashboard. It’s wrapped in a little black bag. Just a little something extra for her birthday.

But, I don’t really want to go out with her again.

 

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Sarika – 2014 to Present – Back In The Widow’s Web

Surprise, surprise!

I left the salon after a meeting with Achilles about the fitness center. I wanted to hit Dan Dan, the Asian fusion restaurant and bar where my buddy, Chet works as bartender. I just wanted to unwind after a long day of work, and toss back a few chardonnays.

I was completely out of cigs, so I headed over to the nearest newsstand at 16th and Locust Street. I stood in line while a few people ahead of me were buying their lottery tickets. (Or as I call it, 401K for the poor) I realized I didn’t have enough cash so I got out of line and headed to the little store down on Spruce.

I get my smokes and I head back up 16th street. I get to the intersection at Locust street again, and who do I see crossing the street from me but Sarika! She’s smiling and waving.

I’m wondering how this is possible and it almost seems surreal. I know she looked up at me two weeks ago at Parc and then looked away. I just assumed she had read the blogs about her and she now hated me.

But here she is smiling and looking gorgeous as always. She apologizes for being all sweaty but she says she just came from a spin class at Flywheel across the street.

She still looks sexy as hell. Sweat beading on her forehead, her raven tresses askew and curling about her shoulders. I can see her nipples poking through her wet sports bra. I think this is how she would look after a session with me.

But I digress…

She’s lively and a bit out of breath. We catch up on what’s been happening in our lives. I talk about the fitness center and she goes on about how much she has had to travel lately for her job. She says she recently got a raise. She’s obviously killing it as an engineer/scientist. Brains and beauty.

I ask her if she’d like to join me at Dan Dan for a drink, but she said she’s too sweaty and gross to go anywhere. She just wants to go home.

She says she met a guy she likes. I think she said they met in Atlanta, but he lives in Florida. All of these long distance relationships. But when you think about it, in this day and age it’s not that bad. Sarika travels so much it’s nothing for her to hop on a plane and jet down to Florida for a few days. She can afford it and she’s accustomed to traveling.

I’m happy to hear that she’s doing well and not mad at me. I guess when she said she was reading my blog a few months ago she missed the stuff about her. Bullet dodged!

She says she has to go to Boston this weekend, but will be back next week. She’d like to meet up for a drink.

So I’m happy about this little twist. I’ll let sleeping dogs lie, and we’ll move forward from here.

Sarika is back!

 

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Mary – 2014 to Present – Chapter 2 – New Years Day Brunch 2016 – Part One

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

Normally, a dating post like this one would appear on a Monday. But since I’m publishing three days a week now, to preserve continuity with the events of New Years weekend, this is technically the third installment of the events that occurred over my New Years weekend. Clarice, Carly, and Mary is a trilogy that should be together.

Since our first date Mary and I have met for lunch at Capital Grille and also at Square 1682 again for drinks. We went to Capital Grille because she said she’s known the bartender for fifteen years. She says she gets the hook up. I dig the hook up when I get it so I was down. The lunch was delicious and the company was good. Poor Mary, was having some oral pain for some dental work she needed done, so instead of steak she went with the salmon. But at nearly sixty-nine years of age, she’s hanging tough and looking good doing it. I did the burger to keep the cost down, but in the end we didn’t get any hook up. Good news is, Mary kicked in over forty dollars towards the bill, so Mary is clutch. The moral of this story is, if your name isn’t Phicklephilly or Church, you don’t really get the real hookup.

So this would technically be our fourth date. Mary’s cataract surgery was complete and the vision in her right eye is now clear again. After my date New Years Eve brunch with Clarice, (See: Clarice – 2016 to Present – The CEO – New Years Eve Brunch) and the wedding set up with Carly, (See: Carly – 2014 to Present – New Years Eve) I was ready to spend New Years Day with Mary.

These have been my kind of holidays and I think I finally got it right. In December I saw my family in the middle of the month at our annual holiday party.

Fantastic.

Like I’ve said before I’ve never been a fan of New Years because it’s drunken amateur night. Just can’t do it. So this year, I’ve managed to build these little meetings around the holiday, without actually having to participate in said holiday.

I decided to take Mary to brunch at the City Diner at Broad and South. It was formerly Juniper Commons. A Kevin Spraga restaurant. It was an abject failure. They had eighty different gins. You could pick your club soda from a load of different flavors. It had a diner decor and played 80’s music throughout. I had brunch there when it first opened. I had this magnificent pancake concoction. Best ever. The two times I went back my buddy Church said the burgers were sub par, and another time I had brunch with Trish there, the food outright sucked. Who wants gin, let alone eighty different kinds?

The place went under in less than six months. Bitch, please.

A Greek family came in and turned the place into a twenty-four hour diner. Crushing it. perfect spot and perfect idea. Like my partner Achilles over at the salon, the Greeks just know how to get it done. Wait until some big shot goes in and does the whole build out on the restaurant and wait for it to fail. Then go in and open your restaurant and all of the stuff is already there to make it work.

Genius.

I meet her there and we’re all set. I called a few days before and made a reservation for a window booth on the Broad street side. The mummers parade goes right down Broad street all day on New years. Perfect vantage point to dine while watching the parade go by. Mary is impressed. It’s what I’m good at. Being at the parade can sometimes be a shitshow, but being behind glass and away from the crowd and noise, it’s a delight.

We have a really nice Irish girl who will be our server. It’s about 1:15pm at this point. I order a Yards Pale, and Mary goes with the prosecco. How about that? Two different dates in two days, and they order the same thing. Just goes to show, ladies dig bubbly when it comes to day drinking. Place is swinging. Very busy. Juniper Commons was never like this.

Mary and I are chatting and catching up on what’s been happening in our lives over the holidays. The server comes by and we’re not ready. That always happens. I get chatting with someone and forget to look at the menu. She returns in a bit and we’re ready. Mary goes with the Eggs Benedict with Canadian bacon, and I have the french toast deluxe. Deluxe means they give me a sizable slice of ham, two pieces of bacon and a single sausage. Just a glorious brunch item. Order is in, and now it’s maybe 1:40pm.

We chat away, and order another round. The diner fills and several large parties come in. We’re laughing and talking as the parade rolls by. The people watching alone is almost better than the parade, and we’ve got a court side seat.

Time goes by.

More time goes by.

And even more time goes by.

We’re not starving but it’s been an hour and no food.

An hour!

At a fucking diner!

At Midtown diner they crack that food off to you so fast you barely tell them what you want and it’s in front of you. And Little Pete’s? Lightning. We can’t figure out what’s wrong. The server comes over and apologizes, several times. We’re not angry because we’re enjoying each others company the time sort of just rolls by. But we should be a little cross about this situation. The server tells us it’s the kitchen’s fault. They have had a few large tables come in and they are in the weeds. But that’s not our problem. I understand the challenges of the service industry and so does Mary…first hand.

Once it’s an hour and a half, and we’re about to order our third round, the server returns once again. She apologizes and is really sweet. We tell her it’s not her fault. I suggest that we pay for our drinks, and when our food eventually comes out after two hours, we eat it and tip her up to what the whole meal would cost, but the manager or owner comps our lunch. In theory this seems fair.

But the server tells us that they are Greek. (we know this) Any shortcoming that occur in the diner are the fault of the server. But we tell her she is completely innocent in all of this. She insists they will take it out of her pay and she’ll get in trouble.

Well that sucks. I can’t let that happen. We tell her we’re rescinding the offer and to forget we ever said anything. We express this with great earnest because she’s under enough stress, running around all day serving hungry cranky customers. I drop the idea.

Mary agrees. We’re cool. The server tells us just two more orders ahead of us and they’ll bring us our food. We’re both a little buzzed at this point and are still having a lovely time.

A few minutes later our orders from nearly two hours ago finally arrive. Fresh and hot just as if they were delivered minutes after we ordered. Presentation looks solid, and we’re both satisfied. We tear into our platters like hungry children. (#firstworldproblems) it’s all delish!

The server comes back and tells us if we want another round it’s on them. I think we’re square. It really wasn’t bad sitting there with Mary chatting away on a beautiful day. We’re finishing up and she gets a glass of wine and I go with a cocktail. The Scofflaw. It contains Crown Royal, dry vermouth, grenadine, orange bitters, and an Amarena cherry. Not a bad, spirit forward drink for a diner at 4:30 in the afternoon.

We’ve been here all afternoon!

We enjoy our free drinks and I pay the bill, but I told Mary that since she’s had so many medical woes lately, I wanted to do something for her. She’s been paying dutch normally when we go out, and I appreciate that. It’s New Years day of 2017, and I enjoy her company. I want to do something for her.

Tune in tomorrow to find out where these crazy kids end up next!

 

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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