Caroline – 11/2016 – Tinder Mismatch – This Is Why You’re Alone

She should have just swiped left!

Advertisements

I have struggled with this one for months. I thought, change the pic, Tell the story a different way. Even my friend and neighbor Trish told me not to publish the photo, and told me to take it easy on my words. (See: Trish – 2012 to Present – She Wolf) But the more I though about it, it really came down to “You should have simply Swiped Left” so, fuck you.

If you’ve been following this blog, you know I’m a gentleman.

That’s her in the middle.She

Here is what it says on MY Tinder profile:

My Name – 54

If you’d like a quality man with a real career and a gentleman, seeking a long-term relationship, then you’ve come to the right place. Advertising Exec, former artist, writer and musician. I hope you like a charming good listener, going out to dinner and laughing a lot because that’s what you’re going to get. Oh, and I’m a great cook as well. If we meet and you don’t look like your profile pics, then you’re going to buy me drinks until you do.

It’s to the point, truthful and fun. At the end I poke fun at online dating. Everybody gets the joke and every woman who has read it and matched with me has found it funny. Many times people don’t look like their profile pics. They are older or fatter or whatever, but it’s a joke and we all get it.

Except this person.

Here is what her Tinder profile says:

Caroline – 56

High energy, good energy loving and sweet. I’m into cooking, reading, hiking, biking, and yoga. Currently into cross fit training.  Love to check out modern art in nyc. Rad liberal politics… Republicans need not apply. Friends like me because Im funny… That and i bail them out of jail. Open to dating and possible relationship if thats where the vibe takes us.

Ok, I’m not going to mention all of the spelling and grammar errors. I’m going to share the dialogue shared with this moron.

So she read my profile and decided instead of swiping left because she simply didn’t like my profile, she swiped right.

Then she messaged me on the site.

Caroline: What if you don’t look like your profile pics?

Me: Then I guess you’re drinking for free, Caroline!

Two days later… (Again, please forgive all of her spelling and grammatical errors)

Caroline: Hi charles, Ive seen the line on other profiles. Its not exactly original. But thats not the problem with it. The problem is that Your first contact with someone assumes something negative about them. I know this line is meant to be funny but to me it comes off as arrogant and demanding. People already feel vulnerable enough on dating sites without someone admonishing them (before they’ve even met!) about how the look. Maybe you’re not so hot either. As for me, I’m in my 50’s. My pictures are current but i am aging. I don’t want to meet anyone who is going to pounce on that and scrutinize my appearance. I want to meet someone who is looking for my inner beauty. Im not sure whether to wish you true pics or free drinks but have fun out there.

 

No wonder why this woman is alone. I’m sure her former husband thanks the sweet Lord everyday that he no longer has to look at and listen to this idiot. What an asshole. It’s a joke. Everybody gets it. If you’re too much of a moron to get it, then swipe left you stupid woman. Can you imagine what this woman is really like in real life? She took the time to read my profile, took offense to what I wrote, swiped right just so she could write the above diatribe to a man she doesn’t even know.

(In the first draft of this post I didn’t use words like idiot, moron and stupid in the above paragraph. I used way worse words to describe her.)

I was going to rip her a new one when I responded to her idiotic statement, but I decided against it. Like my mother always said, “Consider the source.”

So I was very nice.

Me: Wow. I never meant any harm in what I said. It was meant as an ironic joke about online dating and the whole scene. I have met people that don’t look like their profiles and it’s no big deal. It’s inside a person that really counts. Most people get the gag and laugh at it. Of course I don’t mean it seriously. I’m 54! I’m no box of chocolates myself anymore. I’d like to meet someone who is nice that I can get to know. Please forgive my insensitivity. Incidentally… I think you are a very attractive, intelligent woman.

(All a bold faced lie!)

Did I spread the bullshit on to thick?

Caroline: I know you didn’t mean any harm. And you responded to my criticism very sweetly. So, I’m sorry for being too sensitive but I think some sensitivity is called for here. Friends?

Me: Absolutely. Thank you!

Mission accomplished. She feels like she put me in my place and helped make me a better person. Good for her. No hard feelings.

I mean…look at those daughters.

Maybe I’d like to meet Caroline and get to know her and her family.

That one on the right is especially nice.

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly

Sun Stories – 2016 – Corn Chips and String

Another day at the office…

I was working at the salon on a Sunday. Some times the weekends are when that odd things occur. It’s a courtesy day, and we’re only open from 11 to 4pm. I never know who is going to walk through our doors.

On this particular Sunday, a really beautiful, sexy brazilian woman walks in. She doesn’t even look like she needs to go tanning. Her skin is a rich caramel color. She has never been to the salon before. She completes the client consent form, and I put her in the system. I ask her what she’s trying to accomplish. Is she going to an event, or on vacation, or maybe just maintain her current color?

She tells me she wants to just get a bit darker, and only wants to buy one session because she has to fly to Boston tomorrow. I’m trying to figure what her deal is. She could be a model, or a stripper or a porn star on tour, or maybe she’s a high-class call girl. She could be none of those things, but it’s Sunday and my mind wanders to keep it interesting.

I ask her if she wants to do a stand up tanning unit or the lay down bed. She asks what is the strongest. For the best overall tan I recommend the stand up model. It surrounds you with fifty-two bulbs at two hundred and thirty watts of power. She accepts, and I swipe her credit card for seventeen dollars for the nine minute session. That’s the maximum time you can spend in that unit.

She goes into the room. There’s a five-minute prep time on the room for the client to prepare to tan. Undress, apply lotion, etc. When the five minutes expire, the unit automatically lights. I tell people who if they are ready sooner, they can simply step inside and press the start button.

Once she’s in the room, I set the timer and go about my business. It’s quiet this Sunday and not many people have come in. I frequently walk around the salon just to make sure there isn’t any detritus on the floor, or anything else is amiss.

I’m walking back from the beds in the back hallway and the brazilian babe sticks her head out the door of the room. It’s just off to the left of the front counter. The session must be finished. “How’d you make out?” I ask as I carefully approach. “I feel like I get nothing.” she says.

“Well, I put you in for the max time.”

She proceeds to open the door fully and she is wearing the equivalent of what appears to be three Doritos chips connected by a few pieces of twine. She’s lovely. The latina gives me a wry smile. I try to avert my eyes, but she places her hand on her hip, and repeats, “I feel like I get nothing. Can I go again?”

“I can’t really do that, Miss. Nine minutes is the max time we should send anyone in that unit.”

“But I get nothing.” Her green eyes glance about the salon. It’s empty. She proceeds to pull down the top two triangles of her tiny bikini revealing her ample, sunburst breasts to me. “See? Nothing.”

In my mind I’m thinking, “What would Achilles do? What would Achilles do??  What would Achilles do?!!”

“Um…do you have cash?” I chirp.

She turns away, her raven locks swirl as she reaches for a twenty-dollar bill on the table in the room. Her breasts swing as she turns.  There is no corn chip sized piece of fabric in the back, just a bit of string. She’s basically naked in front of me. She takes a step forward still exposed, and hands me the bill. I try to hold my gaze on her emerald eyes, but it’s a struggle.

“Okay so you do me again?” she purrs, giving me a sly smile.

“Y,yes… I’ll reset the unit to do you again…”

I go to the register and ring in another stand up session. I pull out the three dollars change from the twenty, and set it on the counter to give her when she comes out. I write a note in the system to have Achilles ask me about the Brazilian lady.

Her session ends. I hear the door open again. I slowly turn to the left. “You see? Much better this time!”

She’s completely naked. She looks the same color to me. But I now see her waxed vulva instead of the dorito sized piece of fabric that was once wedged neatly into the moist junction between her caramel thighs.

Giggling she slams the door.

A few minutes later she emerges from the room. Thankfully, this time fully clothed. (Thankfully? Who am I kidding?) She struts past the counter, grinning. “Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome. Oh, miss! Your change?” I hold out the three singles.

“You nice man. You keep tip.” And she was gone.

I feel like I should have been the one doing the tipping…

 

 

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.

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly

Church – 2013 to Present -Seizure Salad

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, right? Me and my big mouth.”

Indeed…

 

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.

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly

 

Michelle – Chapter 6 – The Wishing Stone

I had been growing frustrated with what was going on between me, Michelle and Delaware Dave. Something had to give. She was with me Monday through Friday, every day. Weekends she was trying to put her relationship back on track with him. That, and of course the annoying, disruptive phone calls from him to her when we were out at night. No matter what we were doing, everything would just come to a screeching halt, and she’d have to take his call whenever the whim struck him. Just youthful nonsense and insecurity.

I consider myself a man of science. I’m sure life itself is a miracle and there are some metaphysical things out there, but most things can be explained by science and mathematics. But when you’re in love, you sometimes can do some crazy shit. Your brain is firing some mad chemicals through your body. I had been reaching a breaking point with her, but didn’t know what to do. So one day I was at my wit’s end and I decided to turn to some darker forces. I know this is going to sound nuts, but I really did this.

It was a Friday in the Spring of 2008. Early May. Weather was a warm and it was a sunny day. I was out making sales calls. I had made my way down to South Street. I came upon Harry’s Occult Shop. I went in and started looking around. I have a friend who is Wiccan and she believes a lot of this stuff. I also know a few younger women that are into all of the magic stones and crystals stuff. Like I said, I’m a student of science. I can’t imagine what all of this stuff does. A very nice lady came up to me and asked if she could help me. I literally told her my dilemma with Michelle. Some how I have been pulled into this store. She was very sweet and took what was happening to me very seriously. Apparently this is quite common, and they are good at this sort of thing.

The first thing we looked at were different crystals. I picked up this sort of translucent pinkish colored stone. The lady says: “Great. It chose you.” Very smooth. I started rubbing the stone with my thumb and index finger. “Okay, what’s next?” I say.  She gives me this nice smelling oil in a little orange bottle. She says to wear it like a cologne and also rub it on the stone in my pocket. I should rub the stone and say Michelle’s name. I should also rub the stone when I’m talking to Michelle or when I am near her.  That’s great. Reach in your pocket and rub a hard object when you’re talking to Michelle. That won’t look weird at all.

Then she gave me this plastic bottle of a special body wash. I’m supposed to use this every day until it’s gone. Thing is, the liquid inside appears to be black or grey. It didn’t really appear to look like something you should be washing your whole body with, but who am I to question these occult wizards?

I ask if there is anything else, or is that it, and she says she has one more thing for me. She reaches up on a high shelf and hands me a tall glass candle. She says this is some sort of love spell candle. the glass is red and the candle is white. On the glass that holds the candle there are two white hearts they are connected. She tells me that when I get home tonight, I have to write Michelle’s name and my name in the little hearts. Then I’m supposed to light the candle and burn it continuously for as long as possible. I ask if I can blow it out when I leave the house so I don’t create a fire hazard at my apartment, and she says that’s okay.

So I buy all of this stuff. It came to around $40 or so. She bags it up and I head back to the office. I dab a few drops of the oil onto the stone and on my neck and forearms. I reach the building and go up the elevator to our floor. I have to get my bag of goodies in quickly and stash it under my desk so I don’t become the laughing stock of my department. I see Michelle and chat briefly managing to get a few rubs of my stone in without being noticed.

When I got home that night, I set up my candle in the corner of the room. I took out a sharpie marker and wrote my name and hers on the hearts. Apparently this is supposed to bring our energy together, and drive a wedge of bad energy between Michelle and Dave.

Over the weekend, and all the way up to Monday morning I burned the candle and wore the oil and kept my little stone oiled up as well. Each morning I bathed using the black body wash. It wasn’t awful. It didn’t smell bad. It just looked dirty because all of this black stuff would be circling the drain. But it didn’t seem to discolor my skin at all.

I went into work on Monday and it was business as usual. I had burned the love spell candle all weekend long. I had my stone with me, and had freshly showered in the body wash from the river Styx. So I was ready. By the time 5 pm came, I decided to do something different. Instead of leaving with her, like I always did. (I was fed up waiting for her to figure out what she wanted.) I simply got up from my chair and walked down the hall to the elevators.

Michelle nearly ran up behind me. She hadn’t even change out of her heels into her flats. I was a bit surprised at her behavior. “Aren’t you even going to wait for me?” she exclaimed. I sort of acted like I hadn’t thought of it, but I had. So we left together and did our usual “walk her home every night” routine. We were chatting about some general things. We were at the corner in front of the GSK World Headquarters. Right where the Freedom sculpture is.

You can see it here: http://www.mymodernmet.com/profiles/blogs/sculpture-breaks-free

I love this sculpture, because I love the idea of breaking free of ones bounds whether it be physical or mental. That’s never easy to do, but this work really captures the spirit of changing your life and not being chained to your past. Of all places for the next thing to occur…

She turns to me and says: “Can I ask you a question?” I’m like; “Sure.” She asks me if I were in a relationship with someone, and they had dated or had a relationship with a black person in the past, would I have a problem of that? I told her that answer was an easy one. I had a black girlfriend when I lived in Los Angeles in the early 80’s, and also another black girlfriend when I lived in New York before I moved back to Philly. You can’t be anymore non-racist than that. I told her I love all women. I have all they’re albums. All shapes, sizes and colors. That’s what makes life beautiful. The differences in people. (As you will see in this blog my deeds speak the truth more than my words)  I asked her if Delaware Dave had a problem with her having been intimate with that black guy Tyrell in the past. She said he did. Maybe he called her a nigger lover or something. (Which I find abhorrent) But whatever had happened over the weekend it wasn’t good.

We discussed it further for a bit, but I knew. That had been the deal breaker. Maybe not a life long deal breaker. People can change. They can have different views about things. They mature and sometimes learn to forgive. They can even simply settle. But it looked like for now the whole reconciliation with Dave was off the table.

I called my friend Vicky who is the Wiccan and told her the crazy ritual I had performed, and what the outcome had been. Her response as a white witch was appropriate and hilarious. “Do not ever do that again! You don’t know what dark forces you’re fucking with! Why didn’t you consult me first!?”

Did it work? I’m not going to question any of it. If it got Michelle to be with me, it was the best $40 I had ever spent. So technically some thing worked. Maybe it was all simply in the timing. Like Shakespeare’s Hamlet says to Horatio: “There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

Oh, and that little magic pink stone that I rubbed for luck 9 years ago?

I was just looking at it this morning in the little wooden box on my desk.

 

 

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

 Instagram @phicklephilly

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

Scarlett – 9/26/2016 – Sexy chica de tamaño más – Part II

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

The Date

I was supposed to meet her at Square 1682 at 5pm but I got a last-minute meeting with a potential new employer the night before when I was with June. (I know… Phickle is as Phickle does.) So I called her Sunday night after dropping off June and rescheduled it to 7pm.

So I had already been hanging at Square for a while chatting to some of my friends that drift in and out during happy hour. 7pm comes and goes. These young people can never manage the clock. But she is in touch and says she’s coming up from Delaware. The traffic could be an issue. So she rolls in like 7:45. I see that beautiful face.

And then I see the rest.

Ok. So normally I date younger women that are tall and fit or if they aren’t tall they at least have everything in the right place and everything is about the right proportion. This is all new ground for me. You’ve already seen the photo with this post so at least you have an idea what I’m seeing. So let me describe Scarlett as best I can. But let me preface this with a disclosure statement. I’ve met plenty of women and I’ve heard everything they have had to say in regard to body image. Many women use the word “curvy” now to describe their shape. Normally the women that say that have let themselves go or are simply overweight. But let’s take Scarlett top to bottom. She’s 27 and of Dominican decent. She stands 5’8″ (I like that) Her skin is a lovely light caramel color. Her hair is dark and rich with some tawny highlights. Her eyes are dark brown. Her lips are colored with a deep red lipstick. Her face is really beautiful. Like the photo her arms are soft and fleshy. Her bust is proportionate for a girl of her height.  She has a silky black and white blouse on and she is wearing black slacks, and shoes with a small heel. She has bracelets and rings on and all of her nails look fake and are flashy. (trashy) She is very curvy. She has a very large and round posterior. Since her legs are clad in pants I can’t see them but her thighs are proportionate to that glorious backside.

(cue up: Sir-Mix-Alot) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=reTx5sqvVJ4

If you watch that video you’ll notice the women aren’t that big in it. But you know what I’m talking about. Scarlett has a huge big round booty. Forgive me, but she is built like one fine ass black girl. I mean no disrespect. My friend Church is on the other side of me and he doesn’t get it, he just hears her going on about herself and he has low tolerance to chatty girls. Anyway, he bounces out and leaves me with Scarlett. (Which I wanted). I’m sure the crew at Square is wondering who all of these women are that I keep bringing in there, but it’s a good spot and I like the service and staff. But getting back, (no pun intended) This girl was like none I have ever encountered on a date. Chicks that look like her just don’t go out with guys like me. It just doesn’t happen. But she says she likes gentlemen, so we’ll see.

I obviously already have a drink going and I ask her if she’d like one and she agrees. She picks out something light and feminine. I’m chatting with her and I’m looking at her and she is really beautiful. I’m attracted to her. I’m feeling good energy for this Rubenesque beauty. She tells me how she formerly worked for the Dominican Government here in Philly for a while and then returned to the DR and recently came back to the US. She said she had done some dating and was in a relationship for 7 months or something but it didn’t work. Maybe he couldn’t handle being crushed by Dat Azz!  But I was digging her, She said her Mom still lived in the DR but her younger brother now lived with her here in Philly. Better access to more education. The kid is like 19 so at least she doesn’t have to babysit him. She says she wants to focus now on selling jewelry and designing and selling her own line of jewelry in the near future. I ask her what she’s doing in the interim, and she says she’s living off her savings. That’s not good. She needs to find a job. You’d be surprised how fast your loot runs out when you have zero income. Little bit of a red flag there.

She finishes her drink and of course again no wallet comes out. But I’m cool, because she’s new and charming and it’s one drink…not five. And certainly not dinner. She asks if I’d like to go somewhere else. I’m down. Something with a view but R2L is going to close in 25 minutes. R2L means “Restaurant at Two Liberty. It’s at the top floor of the tower on 16th street. It’s a cool spot with a great view of the city. I’ve been to every part of that place and the views are impressive. Unfortunately, the drinks are expensive and the food on every occasion that I’ve eaten there has been mediocre. However, if they still have the same pastry chef the desserts are amazing. So go there to impress someone, have a couple of drinks, enjoy the view, have the flat breads and twisty breads at the bar and split.

She suggest Assembly at the new Logan Hotel. (Which is the old Four Seasons Hotel) Where did the Four Seasons go? It’s going to be taking up the very top floors of the 2nd Comcast tower that is being built right now. Should be amazing. I’ve never been to Assembly, but I hear it’s expensive with a view. So we grab a taxi over there. Baby doesn’t want to walk over there in heels. We get there, and they have completely changed the lobby. I have so many great and crazy memories at the Four Seasons. (we’ll get to them in future Michelle posts) Now when you walk in there is a bar right there. But assembly is upstairs. She’s been here before. We get in the elevator with this kind of hot young black woman. We get to Assembly and it’s closed for a private party for the Presidential Debate or as I call it the Q&A Improv Comedy Show. So we can’t get in there and neither can the hot sister. I’m thinking… is she a pro?

So I guess I’ll see assembly some other time. I suggest The Ranstead Room. I love that bar. It used to be one of my secret spots and of course when the whole “speakeasy cocktail” thing happened a few years in this city our cover was blown. Everybody wrote about it and showed pics of the interior. But out of respect I will not disclose its location in this forum. Find it yourself. It’s well worth it. I’ve had some crazy times in there too!

So we hop in yet another cab. Actually she gets in the cab and instead of scooting over I have to go around to the other side because once that ass is planted, Those monster whoopee cakes take root. The driver takes us close enough to the Ranstead and we get out and go in. The place is dead. Which I like. Normally they pull a pretty good crowd but it’s getting late, and it is a Monday. I like the place a little darker and intimate. The music is too loud for the number of people in here right now. Just us and another couple who look like they are preparing to leave. Which they do. We pick our cocktails; spirit forward and dark for me, light and dainty for her. We toast and we do the through the arm thing like at weddings. You know what I mean. It’s fun and takes a little dexterity especially if you’ve been drinking. We pull it off flawlessly. “Are you trying to seduce me?” She blushed.

So there was a lot of physical contact between Scarlett and me. She’s very charming and feminine which I like. I think the touching was more her nationality than affection. She had no problem touching my arm or my leg several times during the evening. But I think she liked me. She said she likes gentlemen and I am definitely that. Like I said before, this is not the type of girl I would ever have the chance to date. But I like things that are different and things I’m not accustomed to. Her face is model pretty, that brings a lot of wattage with it. This opportunity, even if I don’t go out with her again has been fun and an experience.

We finish our drinks and decide to wrap it up for the evening. The bill comes and, you guessed it, I pay. We head out and walk up to 20th and Market. “Will you call an Uber for me?” she asks. I’m thinking, really? I gotta pay for that too? She’s playing with my hair. She had been doing that a little bit before that. I think some of my hair couldn’t decide which side of the part it wanted to be on and she keeps trying to fix it. I start kissing those ruby-red lips. She is beautiful. I kiss her cheek, then her neck. I kiss her lips again. Then I pull back and look into her dark brown eyes. “I hope you don’t think I’m being a bit forward Scarlett, but I really like you.”

“I’d stop you if I didn’t like it.” She replies. I go in for more love. She yields to me. She’s hot. I am sooo going to call her a fucking Uber on my account. I order the car and it comes pretty quickly, but not before I steal a few more intimate moments with this curvy, bodacious Latina.

I walk home and I’m feeling pretty good. Since I ordered the car I can track the ride to make sure she gets home safe. When I get home I get this text: “I’m home, hun.”

Hun? Who says that but world worn waitresses and hookers?

Then she asks if I like the Opera. I reply that I love the arts. Especially the opera and the ballet. She asked because on her way back home she saw a billboard for Turandot and says it’s her favorite. She says that she’s never seen it live. I tell her I’ll look into it. Then I text: “Dulces suenos, hermosa dama.” (Sweet dreams, my dear) And she replies: Buenas noches amor.(Good night, love)

So I think overall had this been the 1950’s this would have been a pretty sweet date. But it’s 2016 and life is what it is. I would definitely go out with this curvy chica again. I kind of like the idea of being out with this twenty something flashy bootylicious babe. There’s just something really sexy about her. I just gotta watch my money. Remember, she isn’t currently employed and likes finer things.

I have since looked up tickets for Turandot and they start in the $100 plus range. The good news is the last performances are tonight and tomorrow and I’m busy working both days, so I’m off the hook.

We have texted since our date a little bit. Something about her still having her DR government ID so she was able to go to a rally where Michelle Obama was speaking. I think that’s pretty cool. Time will tell on this girl.

 

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

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

 

 

June – 10/2016 – Runs with Scissors – Update

I met June in October. Texted a bit. Talked to her on the phone for 4 hours while we were both drunk. Met up for drinks a day later. Had some laughs. Met up with her again when I took her to the Midtown Fall Festival.

But here is the thing. I would drink and smoke with this lady at McGlinchey’s but not much else. I’m just not a fan. I know I’m going to sound vacuous and shallow, but I’m just not attracted to her. It’s not working. The face isn’t doing it for me and neither is the rest of her. The stocky body and man hands from rustling horses? Just, no.

I can’t. She’s kind of like a moped. Sure they’re lots of fun to ride. But you don’t want your friends to see you on that thing. But no hard feelings on this one. She’s even been in touch with me a little in text. Wanting me to get a drink, hang out, but I just wasn’t into it. It’s either hell yea, or hell no.

And the verdict on June, is hell no.

If you read my last update on Valerie, (Love me Tinder) you’ll sort of know where I am with these middle aged women. I tried, but I’m just not into dating these two. But here’s the thing. Maybe I just haven’t been dating the right women my age. I’m going to keep trying. What I do enjoy about women my age is, we have a similar worldview and share a social and developmental timeline. That’s a good thing. I just need to find the right girl. I don’t care how old she is.

 

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

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

Scarlett – 9/26/2016 – Sexy chica de tamaño más – Part I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scarlett: “Because you stood me up.”

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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