Cherie – Chapter 10 – Hammer into Anvil

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

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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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Cherie – Chapter 8 – Lion and the Scorpion – Part II

Two weeks ago this story left off with the following cliffhanger:

…But here’s the best part of all of that. She works in a pediatrician’s office as one of her two jobs. She says she loves children. She wants to be a doctor that practices pediatric neurosis when she finishes her education. That’s awesome. So I’m assuming, young woman, loves kids, already has one would probably want another one or two to round out the dinner table. Based on these stories you know that my last 3 relationships all ended for that reason. I’ve already been married. I have a child. I have paid over $120,000 in tax-free money to someone who is not a nice person and hurts those around her. My ex-wife has already burned through her second marriage and has another kid. But I digress.

Oh sure, I could get married and have another kid and live happily ever after. Sure that could happen. But based on my track record, it’s a sucker bet. If I did that and somehow fucked it up again. My child support payments would be coming out of my Social Security checks. No. Just place the gun in my mouth and gently curl your finger so that everything I ever was ends up on the wall behind me.

So I pull the trigger on this lovely, seemingly perfect romance. Because this way I don’t have to say my last 4 relationships ended for the same reason. I can still say 3, because this beautiful flower that has grown between Cherie myself in the last few weeks will be stomped into the earth under the hob nail boot of reality. Doomed from the start. Destroyed before it could ever flourish.

“Do you want more children, Cherie?”

“No. I don’t want anymore children. I told you that on our first date.”

How the fuck could I have missed this incredibly earth shattering piece of information? This is incredible news. Groundbreaking stuff. If she really doesn’t want kids, we could actually sustain a long-term relationship.

Maybe.

She knows my situation. Well, I’ll just play it cool and try to fly level. We’ll see where this goes. I won’t lose my mind and rush into anything. My last girlfriend has been gone for two years. Cherie’s been split from her son’s father for two years as well. Maybe the stars have aligned. She’s really laid back. Getting her education. Working two jobs in her field of endeavor. I’m not going to think about all of this. I’m just going to enjoy our time together. Let the universe unfold as it should.

We decide to get something to eat. She’s come all the way down here. I should at least feed the girl. We walk South on 22nd street. Down to Sansom. We head East and I look through the window at Cavanaugh’s. Too noisy on a Saturday night. We round the corner at 18th and I peek in Wrap Shack. Looks too crowded. Then I get an idea. She once said she liked breakfast for dinner. I know just where to take her.

We hit the Midtown Diner up the street. It’s dead. Which I think is odd, but then I speak to the hostess. She says this is the calm before the storm. They watch all of the people walking South to the bars, and then around 11:30 to 2am they all come back. Then the place gets busy again.

This 24 hour diner has been here a long time. It’s a Philly classic. All of the waitresses are old. They’ve all worked there for many years. That says a lot about a place.  The servers are the kind of old dolls that call everyone “Hon.” The whole dining room is empty. We can pick any booth we want. We take a seat and check out the menus.

“Remember that black lace top I wore on our second date?” Cherie asks.

“How can I forget? I reprimanded you for dressing like that for school.” I respond.

“Well, I had a T-shirt in my car. I wore that top for you. I was all covered with mosquito bites and covered up, but I wanted to show you my body. I changed into the T-shirt before I went to class.”

Wow. I had no idea. I need to pay close attention to this one. She was into me by our second date at El Rey. That little minx. She’s playing footsie with me under the table. She reaches under the table and rubs my leg. I’m trying to concentrate on the menu but it’s useless. This is how she is when she’s sober. I’m sober too. I don’t even think about drinking or smoking when I’m with her. Cherie is the drug I’m on. Just like the song by Roxy Music.

But don’t you know, this couple comes in shortly after and sits in the booth right next to us. I mean right next to us. I turn my head to the right, and they’re right there! C-Blocked again!

Everything is liquid between us and everybody is doing everything they can to stop us from attacking each other. We actually feel a little angry about this. I just laugh and tell her that humans are for the most part social animals. They can’t help but be near each other. We discuss moving to the back, but decide against it. We’d look rude. It’s not that important. We’ll have plenty of time together. The game is afoot and I love it.

“Cherie. Your birthday’s Thursday. What are you doing for your birthday?”

“Nothing. I have to work. I don’t really care about my birthday.”

“Don’t you want anything?”  I know it’s early in the game, but I’m trying to be nice.

“You know what I want?”

“What?”

“I want you. I want to be with you. You know… in that way.”

Okay…. Okay…. This lady knows what she wants. I’m almost find it a bit intimidating but arousing. Man… This is going to be good. I need to plan something soon.

I’m attracted to Cherie, and think she’s a great girl. I love making her laugh and she also has a great sense of humor. I like when she just looks at me with her dark dreamy eyes. I feel so lucky. At my age, to have a lovely girl like this attracted to me is wonderful. I’m not experiencing the intoxicating rush I felt with my last girlfriend, Annabelle, but I feel safer this time around. (See:Annabelle – Nice To Meet You) Cherie knows who she is and what she wants. She’s already been a parent for six years. She’s grounded and responsible. I’m actually relieved that I’m falling for this woman, and I’m not on an emotional rollercoaster like I was with the highly unstable Annabelle. I’m not wondering what she’ll do next, or what crazy decision she’ll make about her life. That poor impulsive fool.

This feels much better. I’m happy that Cherie’s in my life. I’m not a spiritual person, but this feels like some sort of blessing.

The waitress approaches. “Hey there. It’s been awhile since you two have been in here.”

I’m thinking, it certainly has been awhile, since we’ve never been there together. But her sentiment is sweet. Maybe it’s just me that looks familiar. Or that my daughter has mysteriously become a black woman. We order some food and are chatting. Already deciding that we’d like to meetup on Wednesday for lunch. I know just where I’m going to take her. We’re also planning on seeing each other on Saturday too. This is getting serious. Technically, this is only our fourth date, but we’ve had very long dates. It just flows naturally.

My friend Carly said she may be able to hook me up with a room at the Club Quarters for Saturday. She said that if the hotel isn’t 95% full, they’ll hook me up with a room for $50. Which is incredible. If not, Carly said she can still hook me up with a room for $129, which still isn’t bad. Think about what I’m getting. Spend the night with a beautiful young woman? Totally worth whatever it costs. I could also take her down to the shore house. But that’s a hike, and I have to be back Sunday morning to run that salon. So simply for the sake of geography and time, Club Quarters works for me. I’ve already cleared it with my sister that no one will be at the shore house just in case. I won’t have to get a zip car. We’ll cruise down in the Saab.

I think about how frustrating and confounding my courtship was with Michelle, and also with Annabelle. All the back and forth. Flip flopping with their choices. Not really knowing what they wanted. Cherie is direct and clear on what she likes and what she wants. It just makes for a happier more calm relationship.

We finish eating and those C-Blocking losers next to us have already left, so we have a little personal time before the bill comes. Remember how I used to complain about all those senior citizens I was dating and how the wallets never came out? This is so different from that. Cherie drives an hour to come down here to see me. Pays $25 to put her car in a lot. Doesn’t want anything. The bill is only $17. I’ve been with her for seven hours. $17 is what the whole date cost me.

We walk back to the lot at 23rd and Cherry. Isn’t that cop still sitting in his SUV in the same exact spot? It’s been hours!  What is he on, stake out?  We decide to just leave. She drives down to around 21st and Lombard and finds a quiet spot. People are walking by in Halloween costumes. It’s fun to watch. We’re talking and more kissing ensues. It’s really nice.

It’s getting late, and I know she has to make the hour drive back to Pottstown. It’s really great that she comes to me. She said her personality is that of a pleaser. That’s funny. Me too. I certainly am looking forward to pleasing her at some point.

She drives me back to my place and we say our good nights. I ask her to please text me when she safely arrives home. She says she will. I go upstairs and fix myself a vodka club on the rocks and light a cigarette. It feels good to be home in my chair after a wonderful evening with Cherie. I think about our lunch date coming up on Wednesday. I’ll call the hostess ahead of time and reserve my favorite table. I know Cherie has made it clear what she wants for her birthday, but that’s inevitable. I’m going to give that gift to her a lot. That really seems like a gift for me. Again, I cannot believe my good fortune here.

I feel like I should get her a little something, and give it to her on Wednesday. I’ll think on this. Talk to my female friends. I can’t go with jewelry, it’s too early. Huge mistake. That sets the bar too high if we make it to Christmas. God, then there’s Valentine’s Day after that. I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ve got a few days to plot what I’ll do. Something small and sweet.

My phone pings and she is home safe.

I wish her sweet dreams.

 

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 7 – Lion and the Scorpion – Part I

“Do you want more children, Cherie?”

After our epic 10 hour date last Saturday, we decided to go again this weekend. This would technically be our 4th date, but it felt like our 7th. I knew I couldn’t top last week, but I wanted to come up with some fun activities to do with my latest lady.

I looked online for any happenings. It was Halloween weekend, so I figured there must be something fun to do. The pumpkin event at Headhouse? No. Mini Golf in Northern Liberties?  Fuck Northern Liberties. The weather was supposed to be nice. Maybe we could get on the big red double-decker bus and tour the city. I know the city pretty intimately, but it would be fun to get the official tour and be out in the fresh air on one of the last warm days of Autumn.

I go online and buy a pair of tickets. $60. Not bad. Here’s how it works. You go to 5th and Market Streets. The buses run every half an hour. You give them you ticket, and get on the bus whenever you want. That ticket is now good for the next 24 hours. The bus tours around the city and stops at 15 different landmarks. There are even tour guides on every bus telling you what it is you’re looking at. One of the best parts of this tour is, you don’t have to stay on the bus the whole time. You can get off at any number of stops at any time. Why didn’t I ever think to do this with Michelle when we were together? (See: Michelle – A Brand New Day) You chill on the tour, hop off somewhere. Grab a bite. Have a few drinks and then get back on. You could literally eat and drink your way around the whole city for a day. All the while learning things about our fair city. It would be like having your own personal driver and tour guide, while you get hammered all over the city. Genius.

But it wouldn’t be like that with Cherie. She’s a different cat all together. I tell her to meet me at 5th and Market at 1:30pm. I’d like us to start the tour around 2pm. So I have we have this thing called “Cher-time.” I always allow her an extra half hour before we’re supposed to meet at a proposed time. She’s driving down from Pottstown. There could be construction, detours, weather, etc. I’m hardcore about the clock and being on time as you well know, but I’ll make an allowance here. Because it’s she who is driving all the way into the city to see me.

So, I ordered the tickets and printed them out on Friday night. Within an hour, I get a text from Cherie, that she is having babysitter issues, and she won’t be able to get down to Philly until 4pm. That throws a wrench in things. If it were summertime, it wouldn’t matter if we got on the tour at 4pm, because it stays light until after 8pm. But this time of year it’s starting to get dark at 6pm and it’s getting colder at night.

I call the Big Red Bus Company. I tell them my dilemma. The really cordial guy who answered the phone tells me those tickets can be used at anytime. They’re only activated when I actually present them and step on a bus. I was afraid they would expire or I somehow wasted $60, but no. I can use these tickets for another future date, with Cherie!

She doesn’t know any of this is happening, it’s all behind the scenes. I think she’s just a little sad she can’t get down here sooner. I tell her I have everything under control. She says that she loves a man in control.

I like her words.

She’s on her way down and texts me that there is a detour up around 307, because of some rowing event. I tell her not to worry, and just take her time and be safe. She later texts me from 23rd and Cherry. I tell her I’m waiting for her at 21st and Pine. Somehow she gets a little lost, but finally gets to me. I hop in the Saab and off we go. I tell her about the bus tour thing and initially I could tell she was sad that it was too late to do it. I’m looking at her sweet pout lip. I tell her not to worry because we can use them anytime. She’s happy about that. I tell her it’s another day of dating that’s already paid for. I told her if we’re up on the top-level of the bus it may get a little chilly but we can sit in the back of the bus and cuddle to stay warm. She says she’s down for that for sure. I ask her if she has a problem sitting in the back of the bus. She laughs and tells me she does not. It’s not racially insensitive if the person you are with is intelligent and you’re dating her.

I don’t really have a plan at this point. It’s 5pm now. She drives up to a parking lot back out at 23rd and Cherry streets, It’s pretty deserted. She pulls in. There is no attendant. There are some signs up that say weekend permits only. It almost appears we could just park here and nobody would even know the lot is so empty. But being the honest person Cherie is, she pulls up and leans out the window. She starts putting cash in the machine. I glance over at her. She’s half way out the window because she didn’t pull close enough to the machine. Her shirt rides up her back and I see a horizontal patch of lovely brown skin. Framed above her jeans is lacy turquoise underwear. Is she doing this on purpose?

We pull in and she picks this isolated spot. It’s still light out but dusk is approaching. We’re chatting and catching up. But that slowly turns into dreamy kissing. This goes on for a while and becomes quite passionate.

It’s getting dark and Cherie seems to have no interest in going anywhere or seeing anything around the city. She’s content to stay here and be with me. So I start to feel like something is about to happen in the moment of passion. I feel like a teenager again. Making out with a pretty girl in a car in the dark. And then it happens.

The C-Block. The CB. Doesn’t a Police vehicle pull into the lot and circle around and park about 30 feet away at my 10 o’clock position? Just sits there. Motor running. Headlights shining outward. I can’t believe this is happening again. Cherie says the cops can’t see what her hands are doing below the dashboard. She also notes that the idea of law enforcement parked there while things are happening in here heightens the thrill.

It has become clear to me at this point that Cherie is very interested in me. I’m happy about this. I have been on this dating odyssey, and it’s as if I had to go on all of those dates for this woman to be delivered to me. I’ve learned much on this journey. But like she once said to me…” Be careful for what you wish for.” She’s intelligent, funny, easy-going, beautiful, fit, and on the right side of thirty. I think I just checked off every box on my list. Now it appears there is only one box left that needs checking.

But not in front of the cops.

I suppose some of you may be wondering why I don’t just take her back to my apartment and throttle her. I didn’t want to mention this before but I have a 19-year-old daughter. She lives with me. When she came to me during her senior year in high school, I was single. Technically I still am. I don’t want to start bringing strange women into the house just yet. I haven’t even discussed it with her. If she were sitting on the sofa and I just came rolling in with some young chick, and took her back to the bedroom, that just wouldn’t be cool. Maybe when I know the place is clean, and my daughter is away for the weekend for sure. I’m sure the situation is the same for Cherie. Her son is 6 years old. It’s just weird bringing a strange man into mommy’s bed. I have a lot of will power and am a very patient man. I’m not worried. We’ll figure it out.

Anyway, we’re getting antsy. Cherie suggests we take a walk. I agree. It’s a nice night. This way the police sitting there for the last hour doing nothing will see that we are clean upstanding citizens. Not some interracial couple that has to hide their forbidden romance in some vacant lot on the outskirts of town.

We walk a ways. So I figure maybe I’ll take her somewhere and get her something to eat. But she has other plans. We walk a few blocks and end up on this small street with very little on it. We get to the middle of the block and she stops. She just wants to hang out and make out. I can’t believe this is happening. When I think of all of the drinks and dinners I bought for these other women, and felt nothing, this little vixen just wants to play with me. This goes on for about 45 minutes. It’s a deserted street. We’re right in the middle of the block facing each other. So I can see if anybody is walking up the street or if a car is coming. She can do the same in the opposite direction. Again, I feel like I’m 17 years old and I’m out at night with my 14-year-old girlfriend, Anne. We’re just holding each other and chatting and kissing and gazing into each other’s eyes.

Feels like love to me.

From the very first meeting we just sort of clicked. I thought she was great chill girl. She liked that I was a white gentleman that made her laugh. Yes, I did gather more intel on this date. Her son’s father clipped her when she was 17 years old. He was in his 30’s. He was white. She said they waited until she was 18 to have sex. I agreed with that idea. (Avoid those pesky statutory rape laws.) Apparently he was married and has 4 other children! She says she was not the home wrecker. They bet in a bar but I didn’t push her for details. I asked her to describe him. I didn’t know what to expect. She simply said. 5’9″ okay looking. A douchebag. Also she seems a little sore that he doesn’t spend as much time as he should with his son with her. But he does pay child support. So kudos, buddy. But put some more time in with your boy, asshole. You only get one chance.

They’re only children ONCE.

But here’s the best part of all of that. She works in a pediatrician’s office as one of her two jobs. She says she loves children. She wants to be a doctor that practices pediatric neurosis when she finishes her education. That’s awesome. So I’m assuming, young woman, loves kids, already has one would probably want another one or two to round out the dinner table. Based on these stories you know that my last 3 relationships all ended for that reason. I already have been married. I have a child. I have paid over $125,000 in tax-free money to someone who is not a nice person and hurts those around her. My ex-wife has already burned through her second marriage and has another kid.

But I digress.

Oh sure, I could get married and have another kid and live happily ever after. Sure that could happen. But based on my track record, it’s a sucker’s bet. If I did that and somehow fucked it up again. My child support payments would be coming out of my Social Security checks. No. Just place the gun in my mouth and gently curl your finger so that everything I ever was ends up on the wall behind me.

So I pull the trigger. The lynch pin in this lovely, seemingly perfect romance. Because this way I don’t have to say my last 4 relationships ended for the same reason. I can still say 3, because this beautiful flower that has grown between Cherie myself in the last few weeks will be stomped into the earth under the hob nail boot of reality. Doomed from the start. Destroyed before it could ever flourish.

“Do you want more children, Cherie?”

Tune in 2 weeks from now for the chilling conclusion to this deal breaking tale!

 

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 5 – Be Careful What You Wish For – Part I

Don’t be a guy.

Be a man.

Saturday arrived. I woke up relatively early. Philly had periods of showers but the rain was supposed to stop around 1pm, so that was good. I didn’t want another rainy day date with Cherie. But actually I was looking forward to seeing her so the weather didn’t really matter.

I stopped by the salon to drop off some detergent and bring my friend Trish some fives for the register. She was hung over from a night of Jameson at Tattooed Mom’s with her friends on South Street. She stopped drinking alcohol about a year ago, because she said she didn’t like how she behaved on it. Said it made her angry. Trish is angry anyway and I can only imagine what a nightmare she is on booze. That’s probably part of the reason she can’t function without smoking marijuana everyday and drinking oceans of coffee just to get through the day. I’ll be writing a chapter about her in the near future but for now I’ll stick to the events of today.

I give Trish the fives and she hands me a twenty out of the register. I’m walking across the lobby to take a seat and chat with her for a bit when she says. You have a hole in the back of your pants. I’m like, “Stop checking out my sweet ass.”

“Seriously dude. You have a huge hole in your pants. Don’t you feel that?”

I reach back and sure enough, there is a pretty good-sized hole there.

“I didn’t want you going out on your date today with a big old hole in your pants, dude.”

I joke that maybe I could guide Cherie’s hand to it in the movie theater for some cheap thrills.

“It’s the 3rd date!”

“I hate that shit!”

I tell her I agree. I don’t know if you all know this but a lot of young people are under the impression that the 3rd date equals sex. Which I find stupid. In all seriousness I would rather get to know someone and if there is a mutual attraction, the sex should just happen as a celebration at some point. There should never be a deadline related to intercourse. That almost sounds predatory.

So I head back to my apartment to put on another pair of jeans. I grab a pair and realize I haven’t worn them in a while. Like two years. They are a 36 waist. I now wear a 32 waist, but can do a 34 with a belt. They’re just too big and I look ridiculous. I grab another pair. Another hole in the seat. What’s going on here? Did I wear out the seat of two pair of jeans? I know I see the occasional mouse here in the building but what sort of butt munching rodents do we have around here?

I find a pair that are in decent shape with no holes in the seat, and put them on. This will have to do. I go downstairs and summon an UBER. While driving down to Columbus Boulevard to the multiplex, I chat with my driver, Hanna. She asks me what movie I’m going to see. I tell her the lady I’m taking likes scary movies, so we’re seeing, ‘Ouija: Origin of Evil.’ Some how she gathers from our conversation that my date is younger than me. She asks, and I tell her she’s a little younger. She tells me about a male friend of hers, who is 50 something and was dating a woman in her 40’s and just wasn’t happy. He said that women his age were all carrying all the same baggage. He’s now dating a woman around 30 and says that younger women are just more fun. I say that I agree, but when you date younger women they all eventually want to get married and have kids.  She says that her friend is always up front about that sort of thing. Maybe I should have been clear about that in my last 3 failed relationships. And here I am being driven to what could possibly be a 4th similar destination.

She lets me out and I go into the lobby and get in line for tickets. The movie starts at 1:50 and it is now 1:30. I get the tickets and as I turn to wait for Cherie, she appears. On time. Early. I like that. It’s really nice to see her. Even though it’s only been four days since our last encounter.

Her hair is up in a bun, exposing her lovely slender neck. makes me think about how I kissed that neck on Tuesday. She’s wearing a yellow blouse, and light brown slacks. They cling to her shapely legs.

We are about to enter our auditorium and we notice the floor is really sticky. Someone must have spilled a soda there, and they tried to mop it up but didn’t get it all up. Now I’ve been to plenty of movie theaters in my time, and have jokes about the sticky stuff and detritus that is on the floor of the theaters, but this was really sticky. I had to laugh out loud. I practically had to curl my toes to keep my shoes from being pulled off by that sticky floor. Just a classic ‘out at the movies’ moment.

We go in and decide that we both like to sit in the back of the theater. I ask her if she wants anything to eat. I suggest some delicious buttery popcorn. She says it’s ok but doesn’t like how it can stick in your teeth. She says she likes chocolate, but not dark chocolate. I tell her I love dark chocolate. She smiles and knows what I mean. I really do prefer dark chocolate to milk chocolate, but I also love the color of her skin. I go and mortgage my house at the concession stand on exorbitantly expensive snacks. Medium popcorn, medium cherry coke, bottle of water, and a bag of snickers minis for baby. $21. The food was as much as the tickets. The kid behind the counter even told me I could upgrade to a large popcorn and a large soda for $.50 more. I compliment him on his up-sell, but politely decline.

I get back to Cherie. I get all of our snacks and drinks squared away and sit down. “How did you know I loved Snickers?” she asks. “Well I’m funny and you like to laugh, so I figured, Snickers. she smiles and we settle into the previews. There aren’t many people in the theater. I like that. There’s also no late arrivals and no one is sitting in front of us. I love that as well. People are getting seated and chattering a little but that’s acceptable during the previews. We’re whispering closely. Then we kiss. It’s really nice. I feel like a teenager. I haven’t smooched in a movie theater in years. It was so sweet to hold hands too. She rubbed my arm and caressed my hand, and I was even so bold as to rub her leg and knee. It was all very gentle and romantic. What a refreshing difference from the crap women I went on dates with a few months ago. But I’m really enjoying this elegant romantic odyssey.

There is one rub that I have to mention. It’s happened a few times since then. We call it the C-Block, or the CBs. Cherie and I are in the very back row of the theater. All the way in the aisle to the right against the wall. There is only one way out. Doesn’t some pair of fucknuts sit at the very end of the aisle? This couple just sort of drops it there. One row down would have been fine. But they are right now, in OUR aisle. They could have sat anywhere. There weren’t that many people in the theater. It’s just a human thing. Homo Sapiens are such social animals they have to be together all the time. I can tell Cherie doesn’t want them there and neither do I. But there’s nothing we can do. Nothing but make a bunch of trips to the snack bar and the bathrooms. This way we can thrust our delicious firm buttocks right in their stupid faces.

Oh, never mind. It’s just annoying, we just wanted some private time to neck in the back of the theater!

The movie was a pretty by the numbers horror flick. I’d give it a solid three and a half stars. Demon possession, scary children, and good sudden frights do make you jump. We shared the popcorn and the candy. It was lovely. I was happy to be there sharing this Halloween treat with her.

After the film, we went outside. The sun was out and the rain was gone. It had been warm during the week, but had suddenly turned chilly in the last couple of days. Cherie always has trouble finding a place to park in the city, but down by the movie theater there is always loads of parking spots. We walk over to her Saab, and hop in to get out of the chill. We’re chatting about our next move, (which I have already planned) and more kissing ensues. She tells me she was hoping I would agree to sit in the back of the theater so we could neck. It appears this girl really likes me. She says she likes how soft my hands are. It makes me think of Captain Quint when he grabs Matt Hooper’s hands in the film Jaws, and says “You’ve got city hands, Mr. Hooper, from counting money all your life!” That, and the scene in Steinbeck’s “Of Mice and Men” when one of the men on the farm puts petroleum jelly in his one glove to keep is hand soft for when he touches his woman. I don’t know why my mind flashed to those two images but for a moment they do.

I suggest we go over to Dave and Buster’s to go play games together. She likes the idea. I will say this about my lovely neuroscience major. She is very bright and quick of wit, but extremely laid back and easy-going. She’s from California, and this chick is chill. I always compliment her about her sweet disposition, because I really like that about her. Peaceful is good. She tells me, that between her two jobs, going to class, and taking care of her son, she has to make many decisions every day. She says she likes how I take charge, and just tell her where we’re going and what time it’s happening. I always have a plan and take the lead. She finds that attractive. So take note male readers, many women like to be told what you’re doing with them and where you’re taking them. Women are great negotiators and communicators, but when it comes to picking a lunch spot, just tell them pizza or sushi or just take them somewhere they serve different stuff and go. I have to give thanks here to my late father in regard to the clock. If he told you something was going to happen, or we were going to be somewhere at a specific time, it happened without error. He taught me that your word is your bond, and always be punctual. Like Beau Bridges says to Michelle Pfieffer in The Fabulous Baker Boys, “Punctuality is the first rule of show business.” Life itself is like a giant long series. You’re the star of your own show. Make it a fun, exciting show if you can. To sum up: Girls like a take-charge man.

Don’t be a guy.

Be a man.

 

 

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 1 – Love At First Swipe

“She has youth and beauty, and as I’m finding out about myself, I’m bored with anything else. She fits the criteria. Young. Attractive. Slender. She seems intelligent. Articulate. Good communication skills for the most part. Likes scary movies and thrillers. Getting her education. Works two jobs. What could go wrong?”

I was literally about to begin writing this, and I just got a text from Cherie, so I hope that means something. I’ve responded back with “You must be psychic! I was just thinking about you.” (I was thinking about her because I was just about to write the first half of this very chapter.)

We swiped right on each other on Tinder. Cherie is a 26-year-old attractive, fit, black woman whose zodiac sign is Scorpio. When we first connected I sent her a simple, hello. She got back to me and said she was doing well, but she sitting in a boring class. She’s apparently studying developmental neuroscience. Once the small talk and pleasantries were dismissed, I asked her my standard question. “What prompted you to swipe right on my profile?”

She expressed that she liked the things I wrote in my bio. She said she likes to laugh and dine out, and like me, she’s a good listener. That’s pretty standard fare so far. Everybody likes to laugh and go out to dinner.

I truly hope that she’s a good listener, because I like to talk.

Then she asked me the same question. I told her that she seemed like an intelligent person who wanted to do big things. I really just read her brief profile about her being a neuroscience and psychology major, that had high dreams and aspirations, and spun it back to her in my own words.

I’ve heard from several of the women I’ve spoken to on Tinder that many times when they connect with someone, there is this long period of texting. Sometimes it doesn’t materialize into anything. Since I’ve operated in the real world my whole life, I like to establish things soon, and try to get a meeting. Sound like I’m in sales? I am. Depending on the client you always want to close as soon as possible. Keeps your numbers up and your pipeline full. So I move right in and ask her if she’s like to meet up for a drink sometime.

She thanks me for the compliment and agrees she has big dreams. (I know, I read it on your profile.) She says that having a drink with me sounds like a great idea. That was fast. My next response was positive affirmation and my cell number. She says she’ll send me a text.

Now, that looks like it happened very quickly but it actually didn’t. I was living my life all day, and she was probably in and out of classes and whatever else. That brief and pointed exchange began at 9:45am and ended at 3:30pm. Five and a half hours later! Now I just had to wait to see if she was going to text me.

Within moments she did. We continued our conversation off Tinder. She went on to tell me that she works as a medical assistant at a hospital, and also works at a pediatric office! 2 jobs and school? Wow! I tell her briefly my stuff, and she goes on to say that she loves her jobs because she gets to help people, but they can be stressful. I then hit her with how I get my energy from people and enjoy bringing people together personally and professionally. She likes that, and reveals that she’s a shy person at first but then she opens up after a bit.

I try to get her out for a Wednesday night drink.

I don’t hear from her for the rest of the day. She finally gets back to me and apologizes for the silence. She had a very long day with school and work. She re-affirms that she’d like to meet me for a drink, but she works late on Wednesdays but the weekend is probably better. I tell her I’m free Saturday. She’s available in the afternoon. I lock it down for 2pm Saturday. I tell her I’ll pick the spot. She thinks that sounds great.

That was early in the week. A lot can happen in 5 days. So I ping her Wednesday just to keep the current going. We participate in some light banter about the weather and our days events.

I ask another one of my standards: “What do you like to do when you’re not working or studying?” She likes movies, dining out and dancing, etc. I tell her I’m a former musician and not much of a dancer, but love movies and dining out too. I want to know what kind of movies she likes because that would be a splendid second date.

She likes scary movies and thrillers. I tell her I like the same. (I actually like a myriad of film genres but for this exchange, liking the same thing she likes works) I follow with “Let’s go to the movies together soon!” See what I did there?  I’m actually setting up a second date with a woman I haven’t even met for the first time yet. I’m reading her responses. She’s smart. I don’t ask or suggest, I simply say: “Let’s go see a movie together soon.” She responds with, “That sounds like a great idea. Notice how she uses the word “Sounds?” She is a good listener like she said. It reminds me of a thing that my ex-girlfriend Michelle does when I talk to her. She stays attentive to what I’m saying and usually mirrors my words back to me in affirmation. I like that Cherie is doing the same thing. Michelle does that all the time. (See: Michelle – 2007 to Present – A Brand New Day) I love Michelle for that. and she doesn’t even know about her gift. (Ordoes she?)

Cherie says she hasn’t seen too many commercials for scary movies lately. I tell her I’ll look into it. She responds that she thinks that’s nice. I like her manners already. I just hope that if I take her to a scary movie she doesn’t start yelling things like: “Don’t go in there!” or “Get out the house, fool!”

I’m going to go ahead and apologize to everyone reading this in advance for that last bit.

It’s getting late. As a gentle reminder, I tell her she seems really cool, and that I’m really looking forward to meeting her on Saturday.

Crickets.

But at 7:30 the next morning I get a mirrored response. “Good Morning. Thanks you seem cool as well. I’m looking forward to meeting you.” I simply respond with a smiley face. Which brings us back to tonight when I began this chapter. As I finish this part she has responded. “Lol, I highly doubt I’m psychic but thanks. It’s a busy but productive day as well.”

The date is supposed to happen on Saturday. We’re supposed to meet for a drink. It’s Thursday and there is some small talk texts leading up to it. I want to keep the embers glowing until we meet. We chat about our days, and what shows we’re watching. I ask her if she is a beer, wine or a cocktail girl. This way I can gauge where we should meet. She says she’s a beer girl. Then she says she doesn’t really like alcohol and then says: “What about you?” I tell her I enjoy an occasional drink socially. (A bold-faced lie) I ask her if she’d rather meet for brunch instead of a drink on Saturday.

She chooses brunch. I ask her if she has any dietary concerns. She says no, but she is a really unhealthy but picky eater, and thanks me for asking and do I have any. I tell her I can eat anything. So I ask her if she has any preferences. She loves seafood and breakfast food. That sounds perfectly fine to me. I thought of several places I could take her, but went with my go to: Square 1682. The staff knows me. The food’s great, and the service is on point. She can have seafood or breakfast food and so can I.

Friday I text her a “Happy Friday” meme around 5pm. I tell her I look forward to meeting her at Square 1682 for brunch Saturday at 2pm.

She replies: “Where is that at?” I wanted to reply: “I keep forgetting that I am the only one on Earth with iPhone technology because I came from the future, and I also don’t end my sentences with prepositions!” Of course I don’t.

But I do say: “Here, let me google that for you.” And send her a screenshot of Square 1682’s webpage from my phone. She thanks me like nothing happened, because to her, technically nothing did. She closes with: “I’m looking forward to meeting you too.” (Redeemed)

So far just texting her, I like this chick. I’m really looking forward to meeting her Saturday. She seems really sweet. I just pray that she isn’t just meeting with me for free food and drinks. I mean, that could happen. It’s happened before. She is a student. But she has youth and beauty, and as I’m finding out about myself, I’m bored with anything else. She fits the criteria. Young. Attractive. Slender. She seems intelligent. Articulate. Good communication skills for the most part. Likes scary movies and thrillers. Getting her education. Works two jobs. What could go wrong?

 

 

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

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Clarice – 2016 – Chapter 4 – Champagne Lady on a Beer Budget – Part Two

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

Yesterday we left off here:

She shows me her profile on OKCupid, another dating site. She wants me to read her profile. It’s actually really good, it shows a smart, confident, independent woman. I like that. “That’s why men are intimidated by me.”

“I can imagine. But I dig a confident woman. Especially one as pretty as you.” The picture she has posted of herself is spectacular. She looks like a gorgeous woman in her forties. I notice the age posted on the profile says she’s fifty-six. I point to this and she laughs and says, “That’s my OkCupid age.” I laugh and get it. She looks great and ratcheted back her age five years. “I’m really impressed with that pic of you, Clarice.”

“Cause my tits look so good?”

“Umm… well, yes, but…”

“That’s pretty much all I got to offer. I got no ass! I got skinny bird legs!”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” I say, smiling slyly.

Here’s the great thing about dating older women. They are over all of their body issues. They don’t give a shit about all of the nonsense that clogs the heads of younger women. like her profile says: “I know what I can, and cannot do.”

We’re slowly munching through the tacos. She seems to like them. I order another Tecate. She starts looking at the wine list. (Here we fuckin’ go…) I can’t MAKE her drink tequila if she doesn’t like it. I tell her it’s okay to have a glass of wine. (I know! There goes ten bucks!)

She asks me about my artistic background. I tell her about my art and musical background. (I don’t want to epand on that here. That’s for future posts) She asks if I do anything artistic now. I tell her I do some writing.

“Has anyone seen it?” she says.

“No.”

“You should write a blog.”

“Really?”

“Sure! You know about all of these things around the city. What to drink, where to go, and what to do. It would be really interesting. You could even write a blog about dating. I’m sure it would be fun to read!”

“Do you really think so?”

“You should look into it.”

“I’ll see what I can find out about blogging.”

(Oh, the irony!)

Time goes by and she’s getting a buzz on. She starts getting a little affectionate. I ask her if this okay with her PDA rule in place. Apparently it is, because she kisses me again. She’s canoodling around my ear and neck. “Oooh you smell good!” (She’s into me. It’s so on.) “What is that you’re wearing? It smells sooo good!” I tell her I forget what fragrance I grabbed out of the vanity this morning. Maybe Aqua di Gio, by Giorgio Armani I tell her. (Bold faced lie. It’s Axe body spray, Phoenix)

She kisses me again. “Don’t you ever use tongue?” she hisses. “I do…” I look into her eyes, and then at her mouth and then look downward, then back to her eyes, just so we’re clear. I tell her when I kissed her at the Ritz on Saturday she seemed a little tight-lipped. She says she was right there ready for anything. Got a live one here. Maybe it was the tequila talking. Clarice has no idea who she’s dealing with here. Like a baby seal hopping into the water to cool off, just as the grey dorsal fin cuts through the water heading right for her. She kisses me again. Now her lips feel softer and more passionate than Saturday. I can tell the difference. She’s been thinking about me.

She orders another margarita. (Thank you!)  I’m feeling good and into my third Tecate. It’s nearly seven. Need to wrap this up soon. I promised Church I’d meet him at Sofitel. She starts talking about the Comcast Holiday show they do on the digital wall in the lobby of the Comcast tower. She asks me if I’ve ever seen it. I told her I saw it a couple of years ago. (Probably with Michelle and her mom.) She says we should go see it. I tell her I think it’s over by now. She looks it up in her phone. It was over the day after New Years Day.

“Aww too bad, I thought we could go see it after this. See? I’m trying to think of free things we can do together!” (points for that)

I apologize that we missed it, and also tell her I have to go meet with Church after this. He has some important stuff to cover with me.

“Oh…You’re always fitting me in! On our first date at Panorama you had to leave.”

“I had our annual holiday toy drive at Time for the kids at CHOP!”

“On New Years Eve you had to leave me again!”

“I promised my friend Carly weeks ago that I would help her set up a New Years wedding party!”

“Now you’re fitting me in around your friend!”

“He’s having some domestic issues, and my friend needs my support. We set this meeting up a before I made this date with you.”

“Oh…okay. I’m sorry.”

“No worries. I really like you Clarise. I want to see you, but I’ve had a lot of things going on over the holidays. I know now that they’re over, it should free up some time for us to be together.”

“My birthday is coming up, you know. I’ll be sixty-two on January 15th. Martin Luther King’s actual birthday, not the day we celebrate it. Do you have to work that day? It’s a Sunday.”

“Normally I do.”

“Well, here’s what I think you should do; switch with someone. Get on the train. Come out to Upper Darby around 1pm and I’ll pick you up and bring you to my house. You can stay until whenever you have to leave.”

“That would be great. I’ll see what I can do.”

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think Clarice is making it clear she wants me to come over and make love to her. Which I am prepared to do. I like Clarice, and I want her.

The check comes. She had two margaritas, one glass of wine, and three tacos. So technically, not including tip, she will have only cost me twenty-three dollars tonight. Please don’t think I’m cheap, dear reader. If you have been reading this blog, you’ll know that I have spent thousands of dollars wining and dining all of these women.

We walk outside and she takes my arm. I walk her to her subway stop. I walk her down to the first landing and kiss her. She’s surprised and pleased. I offer her what I did not before in a kiss. She smiles and kisses me back.

I hear the roar of the approaching train. Time to go.

 

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Clarice – 2016 – Chapter 3 – Champagne Lady on a Beer Budget – Part One

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

After our New Years Eve date, and the date the next day with Mary, I started thinking about my money. I’m approaching this correctly, but operating at this level has a price. Limited time and resources. But when you have a solid pool of candidates, it puts you in a position of power. I’ve begun to realize this as I make this journey. Valerie was my maiden voyage. I was in the mindset, that if I didn’t feel something deep, I couldn’t go forward with her. She was simply an expense, and there was no return on my investment. June, was fun, but I simply wasn’t attracted to her. Fair enough. If one or two fall off, there are always others waiting in line to get onboard. But I really like Mary. She’s cool and fun, and had great history. I’m attracted to her. Same with Clarice. I want her, but I can’t be dropping a load of cash every time I see her.

There are always a few out there circling now. That’s good. That gives me the advantage. The other big advantage here is that I’m younger than both of these women. Normally I’m the old guy dating the younger women. I have real value, but youth is king. An older man will always be beholden to a younger woman due to her obvious youth and beauty. But if the tables were turned, it now puts me in the position to call the shots. What if I simply tell Clarice that I really like her and love spending time with her, but I can’t drop that much coin on her anymore? What’s the worst thing that could happen? The older woman leaves me because I’m not buying her enough drinks and dinners? Fine. She’s a gold digger and always was a gold digger. What do I get from her leaving me? One less expense that’s not yielding me any return on investment.

Mary has been pretty good with paying dutch on some things, so the issue is not with her. It’s with Clarice, and I’m about to solve it.

I told Clarice I was available on Wednesday evening and would like to see her. She agreed. Clarice texted me the night before and asked me what we were doing. The reason I hadn’t locked it down was because at the time I was struggling with how I was going to solve this situation.

I decided to simply call her. Just talk to her the old fashion way. She answers the phone: “To whom do I owe this great honor?”  I find that endearing because I say that when I answer the phone when somebody I like is calling me. She wants to know what we’re doing. I flat-out tell her that I really like her, and want to spend time with her, but I can’t spend fifty to a hundred dollars every time I see her. She says she agrees, and says I need to be more creative. I like that answer and it’s not a farewell. She suggests she just come to my apartment. (I find that a bit forward and a veiled suggestion for sex) I tell her Lorelei lives with me and I can’t be dragging strange women through the house with my kid there. I can tell this caught her off guard. She was married thirty years ago, but the marriage yielded no children. So she never thinks about kids. I also mention that if she likes, she could kick in on the bill occasionally. She says that since she just spent a bunch of money on a load of food for a holiday party she recently threw, that’s not happening.

Which tells me some things, about our confident, empowered, CEO. Good looking lady. Former opera singer. (No money in the arts) Runs a company (or maybe just works for a company) that sells marketing materials to companies for promoting their brand. She’s the CEO of a company that does marketing for non profits. (Non profits have no money to spend) It sounds like a company she made up which makes her the CEO. Just like my friend Alice is the CEO of her company. She revealed that she is looking to get a job with the African-American Museum here in the city. (She’s looking for a job!) Hot lady has no money!

So even though she is eight years older than me, this further lowers her value. But… she is charming, beautiful and fit. I am attracted to her, and I will use all of this to my advantage without doing anything dramatic. I will simply be myself and change the game.

I was seeing a client down at 12th and Locust, (It’s a gay bar) and when I walk out at 4:15 I hear someone calling my name. I look around and don’t see anyone I know. Then I see a familiar car parked right there. It’s Church!

“What are you doing down here?” I say.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

“I’m seeing Jay at the club to pitch him my new bar leadership program.”

“Or you’re hanging out in a gay bar!” he quips.

“Yea, and you’re parked in your car out front of that gay bar cruisin’ for dudes.”

“Hop in, I’ll give you a ride, sailor.”

I told Clarice to meet me at El Rey, at 20th & Chestnut at 4:45. It’s best to get there before 5pm because the happy hour fill up because it’s so awesome. Dollar tacos, two dollar Tecate, and five dollar margaritas. How’s that for getting creative?

We’re parked out front of El Rey, and I see Clarice walking towards the bar. “Okay, this is my five o’clock appointment, dude. Thanks for the ride. I’ll meet up with you at Sofitel after seven.”

I wait for her to go in, and Church doesn’t ask who I’m meeting with so I don’t mention it. I head in and she’s at the bar taking off her coat. I stride towards her and nearly call her by her blog name by accident!  We hug, and squeeze ourselves into the seats at the bar. It’s a little tight. This used to be the old Midtown Diner III. They kept the affixed seats and the counter when they remodeled the place into El Rey.

I explain the happy hour to her and after a few tries she gets it. She goes with the margarita, no ice. I grab a Tecate. She gets the drink and doesn’t like it. They served it on the rocks which is wrong. She says the drink is super tart. She is making dramatic faces to prove it. I’m finding it annoying. Former opera singer/actress drama. Too much. She grabs the bartender and he fixes the drink. No rocks, and I tell him to add a little more triple sec to lower the tart signature.

Clarice says she’s not a tequila fan, but she’s trying to keep with the “Dating on a budget” program that I am now enforcing. I like that. We order six tacos. So right now the bill would be thirteen bucks. I can live with that. (for now!)

We are chatting and I’m making her laugh as usual. She is beautiful. I ask her how her last date went. She said she cancelled it. Just wasn’t feeling it. I knew it. Once you’ve heard Led Zeppelin, you don’t want to listen to any other crappy bands. She tells me more about her ex husband, and some other guy she dated for five years. I’m feigning interest as usual. It seems to be working.

She shows me her profile on OKCupid, another dating site. She wants me to read her profile. It’s actually really good, it shows a smart, confident, independent woman. I like that. “That’s why men are intimidated by me.”

“I can imagine. But I dig a confident woman. Especially one as pretty as you.” The picture she has posted of herself is spectacular. She looks like a gorgeous woman in her forties. I notice the age posted on the profile says she’s fifty-six. I point to this and she laughs and says, “That’s my OkCupid age.” I laugh and get it. She looks great and ratcheted back her age five years. “I’m really impressed with that pic of you, Clarice.”

“Cause my tits look so good?”

Read the thrilling conclusion to this story tommorow! Where we’ll answer questions like: Will our hero win the heart of the girl before he runs out of money?  Do her tits really look that good?

 

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