How to Deal With Being in a Relationship With an Older Guy

All relationships have advantages and pitfalls. May-September relationships (where the man is significantly older than the woman, usually by at least a generation) have their special challenges. Knowing what to expect can make the difference in the relationship.

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    Determine why you are choosing someone older as a relationship partner.

    • Sometimes the relationship is a superficial one, based upon the man’s financial situation. This stereotype is seen often in the media, and therefore makes people immediately think that if you’re with an older man, it’s because of his money.
    • Other women prefer much older men because they are attracted to the knowledge, experience and/or wisdom that comes with those years.
    • Still other women prefer older men, but only if they appear to be younger than they are. This helps negate some of the “gold digger” comments.
    • Still other women choose older men because they had an unhappy or nonexistent relationship with their father, and are trying to fill that hole they feel in their lives.
    • Other women have a “caretaker” instinct that draws them to older men who genuinely care and appreciate their kindness.
    • There are also women who are sexually attracted to men with wrinkles and gray hair.
    • Older men tend to be more grateful for their relationship with someone younger, and are somewhat less likely to cheat.
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    Realize that you’ll have to deal with prejudice.

    • You’ll be mistaken for the man’s daughter or granddaughter on occasion.
    • Prepare to hear people humming “You’re Sixteen” and “Don’t Stand So Close To Me” near you.
    • Some friends will immediately think your boyfriend is creepy and will think you crazy for dating this man. You may have to convince them of his good qualities.
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    If the relationship would be an illegal one, strongly consider the consequences.

    • This means that if you’re under 18, you could be subjecting the person you want to date to possible criminal charges. Even your consent is not enough to overcome statutory rape. It is in the man’s interest that you keep the relationship platonic until a romantic relationship is legal.
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    Remember to include your boyfriend in some of your activities, and let him know that he’s welcome to include you in some of his activities.

    • This will help people see that you two are not just a “secret” embarrassing item, but that you two actually do have a relationship built upon attraction, respect, trust, and shared experiences.
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    Think about the future, especially if you consider marriage.

    • If you want to start a family. An older parent isn’t necessarily a bad thing … children are born to parents who are in their 40s.
    • If you’re in a March-November relationship instead of a May-September relationship (a 2-generation difference) then you need to prepare for the very real possibility that you will outlive your partner while you are still young or early middle-aged. Be sure end-of-life concerns are taken care of for your partner, and that you are emotionally ready for the stress: both during the relationship and after.
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    If you two really do love each other for the right reasons, most people will eventually accept your relationship. Those who don’t either can’t see past their prejudices or don’t care about your happiness.

 

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Cherie – Chapter 9 – Misconduct on your Birthday

“You’re hot like coffee, but sweet like chocolate”

The Wednesday before her 27th birthday arrives. The day before I had called my friend Keila, who is great at all things party and presents. I tell her my dilemma in regard to what I could get Cherie for her birthday. She offers some good suggestions.

I head to Starbucks. I get in line and ask the guy behind me what’s a good dollar amount for a gift card. He says go with $20 because Starbucks is expensive coffee. I get the card and then head to my next destination.  I walk into the shops at Liberty Place. I know Cherie likes milk chocolate so I scope out a little something of that variety. The girl working is very nice and guides me to a little box of six different kinds of truffles. Looks perfect and I know Cherie will love it. Cherie isn’t expecting anything so it’ll make it even better when I surprise her. I ask the girl if she can wrap it up and she says she can put some fancy birthday ribbon on it. I pay for it and she puts it in a fancy Godiva gift bag with some nice tissue paper around it. She asks me if I want a little card and I agree. It’s blank, which I like. I always have to put my words in cards, none of that store-bought nonsense.

I move out to the center of the mall and sit at a quiet table. I have about 30 minutes to kill so I can get things set up. I write a little witty prose in the card and put her name on the envelope. I slide the Starbucks gift card under the ribbon. Now I’ve got a great little gift for my lady.

I head over to Misconduct restaurant at 18th and JFK Blvd. I’m early, and my favorite hostess is there. (See: Mary – Unexpected Table for Two) I tell her what I’m up to and she’s down. She says she’ll hold the gift under the hostess stand next to her purse and we’ll use a code phrase when I want her to bring it to the table. She also reserves my favorite table, #12.

Cherie is texting me that she’s leaving Temple University. I know it’s going to be a nightmare for her to get down here and park. Septa has recently gone on strike again, and that always causes a great deal of major problems for the city and it’s commuters. There’ll be heavier traffic, little parking on the streets, and full parking lots. I recently spoke with an UBER driver, assuming they would be killing it during the strike, but he said no. There are so many more cars on the streets because everybody has to drive in to the city, that they aren’t getting enough fares fast enough to break even. So even the alternative taxi services are screwed when Septa strikes.

Lunch is at 12:30 but I know that Cherie won’t make it until after 1:00pm with all of this nonsense going on. I’m sitting at my table, sipping my water, looking at my phone, and chatting with the staff. I have my little surprise gift hidden and I don’t care how long it takes her to get down here, I’m just happy I’m going to see her.

She’s texting me and getting frustrated. She doesn’t want to be late, but I assure her I understand and to just be safe. She finally finds parking and says she’ll be there shortly. The server jokes that she thinks I’ve been stood up, or this is all just a lie so I could come in and chat with her and the hostess.

“You work for tips, right?”

She laughs.

Cherie arrives. She looks lovely. Custom fit black leather jacket over what appears to be a burgundy top that is low-cut in the front. As she approaches the table, I stand. Her skirt is short and grey. She is wearing black leather ankle boots. That combination showcases her shapely legs. We hug, but avoid the PDA. (Public Display of Affection) She apologizes for being late and compliments me on my patience as always. I really don’t mind waiting for her. I know she comes from a great distance most of the time. Septa has screwed up the city, and finding parking in center city is brutal. It’s not that she’s recklessly late every time. There are just extenuating circumstances that she’s constantly up against to see me.

So baby gets a pass.

She orders some crazy Cowboy Burger that I’ve never ordered and I get my usual Chicken tenders and a little bowl of mac and cheese to share.

Lunch is lovely, and the conversation and laughter are lively. The staff is on point, and the food is great as always. We get the check, and I give them my card. When the server brings it back for me to sign, I give them the code phrase. “Can you tell me when tea time is?” I didn’t come up with this line, the hostess did. She comes over and places the Godiva bag down on the table. Cherie seems really surprised.

“Happy Birthday, Cher. I know you said you didn’t want anything but me for your birthday, but I had to get you a little something.”

“What’s this? You’re so sweet!” She exclaims.  She’s looking at the candy and Starbucks card, but then goes for the little card with her name on it. Opening it quickly she reads it, and starts smiling. It reads:

“Cherie, You’re hot like coffee, but sweet like chocolate” Love, Me XO”

“Thank you so much. You didn’t have to do this.” She’s holding the little card. “I like this…”

We leave the restaurant. We’ve been there for about two hours. Her car is parked all the way down at 20th and Bainbridge. A little bit of a hike from Misconduct. She made better time than I thought. We get to the Saab and hop in. Her skirt is riding up a little. Her thighs are tantalizing. Some kissing ensues. But like I said, it’s still light out, and people are walking by, some with strollers. Her window is open, so if I’m smooching her, and I see someone with kids or a stroller approaching in the rearview mirror, I start talking about church or some bible reference. Hoping they see that we are just good christians having a heartfelt conversation about God. But once they are past, I’m back at her.

We both realize, this whole making out in the car is an invitation to the C-Blockers. We know where this relationship is heading like a speeding train. It’s inevitable. Then I get an idea. I tell her to drive. We go a few blocks east and I have her hang a left.

“When you see a parking spot anywhere up here just hop in it.” We find one right in front of a restaurant. Perfect.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. Trust me. You’ll like it.”

It’s getting dark now. I take her to the tanning salon. We walk up the stairs, but instead of going in, we throw a left and open a door to the space in the front of the building that’s unlocked and un-rented This is the spot where Achilles and I were going to open our spin bike gym. It should have been open for three months by now, but the owner decided to sell the building. That put everything on hold. Sadly, the space still remains empty. The one whole wall is glass from floor to ceiling. Great view of the night street below. People are bustling by and the street is filled with angry motorists, blowing their horns and gridlocked because of the Septa strike. The space is quiet and if feels safe above the street. I kill the ceiling fans, and throw the switch to turn off the overhead lights. Now the space is dark. There’s a leather love seat by the window. I push it across the hardwood floor to the back corner. There’s no way anyone can see us from the street. I text my co-worker and friend, Trish, (See: Trish – The She Wolf) who is next door working at the salon that I am in the empty space out front. I decide it’s better if I stop over with Cherie, and make an appearance.

We go next door. Trish is happy to see us. I introduce Cherie to Trish, and I can see they are hitting it off. I tell Trish that we don’t want to sit in a bar somewhere, so we’re just going to be next door enjoying the view and chilling. We go back to our leather love seat next door. I lock the door behind us. So no one can see us coming to the salon and no one can see us from the street.

The romance ensues. It’s such a great space. if someone said to me a year ago, that I’d be not only working at this salon, but I’d be next door in the space where I was supposed to open a spin bike gym, making out with a beautiful young woman, I’d think they were nuts. But here we were. It all felt so illicit. I knew we weren’t doing anything wrong. The space is empty, it’s 7pm at night, no one can see us, and my buddy Trish knows we’re there.

I have vowed to try to keep these stories PG-13, but the limits are slowly being pushed into R rated territory. I don’t know how I can continue to write this story about Cherie, without including some sort of 18+ warning. But maybe I can share a few things that were said over the next hour or so. (Or I will at least embellish so you get it.)

Cherie: “I like your new jeans. Have you tested the zipper enough?”

Me: What? Ohhhhh…. Who are you, Monica Lewinski?

Me: “Okay, so the top you’re wearing is just a one piece jumpsuit? Do you have to take the whole thing down to use the restroom?”

Cherie: “No. There are two snaps right here at the bottom, see?” *Snap! *Snap!

Me: “So from the eyebrows down…no hair?”

Cherie: “Oh my God… You’re incredible. That feels amazing!

You get the picture. It was just a little preview for the coming days, so to speak. It was like we had been shopping for a car for the last few dates. We took a couple out for a little test drive that night, and were ready to make a purchase the next time we we’re together. It was simply inevitable. We literally couldn’t take it anymore. The great thing was. She’s not much of a drinker, so after all of our dates, I have never had one drop of alcohol or smoked a cigarette around her. I don’t mind, because when I’m with Cherie, I want for nothing but her and her alone. It feels great.

So after that bit of third base activity, we decide to get out of there. I walk her to her car and kiss her goodnight. I’m only a few blocks from my house so I head home. It feels nice to walk in the cool October night and reflect on our passion. Cherie said she wants me for her birthday and I want to grant her wish. I just need to figure where and how I can make that happen.

Cherie and I have reached critical mass and something has to be done.

 

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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Emily – Pretend Sugarbaby

I love Emily. She’s a doll. 4’11, sweet girl that looks 15.  I’m supposed to meet her at 6pm. It’s around 4:30 and I have some time to kill. I stop at 1518 on Sansom for a glass of wine. I chat with the owner about business. He introduces me to one of the regulars, named Sam. He’s been a barber that has a salon over Oscar’s bar a few doors down. I didn’t even know there was anything over that dive.

I like the guy. He has all these great tales from the old days. Sinatra, Martin, etc. He’s well into his sixties. He told me cut Eddie Fisher’s hair back in the 60’s. I’m thinking my regular stylist hasn’t been doing the best job with my hair lately. I want to go to this old Philly guy. That’s who should be cutting my hair. A pro that’s been doing it for four decades and has good stories. So he gives me his card and I tell him I’ll come see him when I need a cut.

He tells me not to let anyone else in his salon cut it. It has to be him. I promise the old guy I’ll do that.

I have a few wine’s with him and listen to more stories before I leave for my meet up with Emily at and Asian fusion bar called Dan Dan.

My buddy Chet is there bartending, so no matter what time it is, it’ll be happy hour all night for me. I order my usual chardonnay with a side of ice.

Emily shows up a little while after that and she looks adorable as always. Black lacy top, black tights, high heels, long lashes. She looks hot.

She orders her usual go to, a whiskey and coke.

She said her life has been much better since we last hung out. She’s still employed at the restaurant, but she’s working mostly events upstairs now. She has landed a gig at Live Nation which she is super amped about. Planning and managing live musical events and concerts is what she really wants to do, and getting this job has gotten her one step closer to her goal.

Emily expresses to me that she feels better about herself and no longer feels like she’s a piece of meat to anyone. She was alone for awhile and worked on herself and I think that’s great. Hopefully what I told her last time I saw her helped.

Recently she’s met someone she really likes. She met him in Florida, but he’s from Indiana. I’m all for long distance relationships, but Indiana is a bit of a drive from Philly. But I’m rooting for these kids. She says he’s good to her and she really likes him.

She orders up some pot stickers and wings. The food is great at Dan Dan, and Emily just doesn’t go out much because she’s always working and has little money. She’s loving it.

She turns to me. “See those two middle-aged women across the bar?”

“Yes.”

“They totally think you’re my Sugar Daddy!”

“Really?”

“Oh yea. I can tell just the way they’re looking at us.”

“Oh gosh!”

“No. I like it! I think it’s fun!”

“Okay.” (I’m totally loving it)

Nate hooks us up with the happy hour pricing that goes beyond 7:00pm. We discuss more about her life and I tell her what’s happening with the phicklephilly and the soon to be open fitness center.

We’ve been there for a little while and we know we’re ready to go soon. She excuses herself to use the ladies room. I see my opportunity. I grab the bill from Chet and quickly pay it. When she returns and I’m siting there with my blazer on she knows what’s up.

“You got the bill?”

“Well you are my Sugar Baby.”

“Where we going now Daddy?”

We head over to the Sofitel Hotel to the Libete Lounge. It’s a dark posh bar that’s quiet and the music is always soft and in the background, not coming at you.  My buddy Liam the bartender and the girls are working but I just want to show Emily the place. She would never have a drink here. I’m trying to broaden her horizons.

“Wow. This place is so nice!”

“Yea, and it’s right across from where you work and you’ve never been here.”

I go with my usual chardonnay and baby goes with whiskey. They server brings us the little snack tray with the nuts, popcorn and olives. I know it doesn’t take much to impress a 23-year-old girl, but I don’t see little Emily that much and I really enjoy her company.

We only hang there for the one drink because I have my grand finale planned. I tell her I want to take her one more place. She is more than game. I can tell she’s having a good time. We split the bill and head over to The Gran Caffe L’Aquilia on Chestnut Street. She’s never heard of it, but I know she’ll love it. Great two-story Italian place.

What she doesn’t know is that I know the bartender upstairs through  my buddy Church, and he gives me the hookup. But I also know one of the owners because he comes in the salon to tan. But what strengthened that relationship is that one day he lost a gift card in one of the rooms. I found it a few days later under the bureau when I was sweeping, and returned it to him. He doesn’t speak much English but when I saw him in the salon the next time and whipped out his lost card, his face lit up like it was Christmas day. That card must have been loaded. Without the card, whatever money was on there would have been lost if I hadn’t returned it to him. My coworker, Summer told me I should have just kept it, but as you know, she’s a cunning little outlaw.

I order a chardonnay and I don’t remember what she ordered. She says she’s had a tough week. Just roommate stuff and the usual problems that most twenty somethings in this city face everyday.

I order her some calamari and we rip into that. It’s delicious. Then I start telling her about the gelato flights they serve here. I tell her she must try it. She’s had a few drinks and she is ready to roll with that dessert.

“Luciano, could you please do the honors and pick the best flavors you have?”

“As long as one of them is pistachio!” Emily chirps.

He brings them out and they look amazing. They serve the five gelatos each one on it’s own long, elegant spoon. I tell her I can’t eat a lot of this type of food, so I’m just going to use my fork to take a little nip off the end of each one just to get the taste and then she can have the lion’s share of each spoon.

She agrees, and I tap the first one. I take a tiny bit off the end and then watch as this woman/child grabs the spoon and puts the whole dollop into her mouth in one bite.

This happens four more times and each one is exquisite. I’m glad she wanted the pistachio because it was especially good.

Emily is raving about how wonderful it all is and she’s so happy and is having a fabulous night. What Emily may not realize is I’m showing her what it’s like to be out on a date with me. But the bigger lesson here is: Emily, this is how men should treat you when they take you out. Wine and dine you and treat you like a lady, instead of getting you loaded and trying to finger you in the back seat of some car.

Luciano suddenly appears again with a tint glass cup of pistachio for the lady. He’s a class act and Emily is absolutely delighted.

She tears into it like a teenage girl on her 15th birthday. (yea..I make these references just to give it a bit of lechery)

So after two Chardonnay, her cocktail, and order of calamari, and a flight of their best gelato, the bill comes to $22.

Yea. Hookup. I pay the bill and she throws in some for the tip. We say our goodbyes and thank Luciano for the great service and hospitality. She’s still raving about what an absolutely wonderful night she’s had with me. She hugs me and I kiss her cheek.

“How are you getting home?”

“I’ll take the subway.”

“No sugarbaby of mine rides the subway.

I call her an UBER and send her on her way.

Little Emily smiles and waves as the dark sedan disappears into the night.

I turn and make the short walk home down 17th street back to Rittenhouse. I light a cig and breath in what is left of this beautiful evening.

 

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Crazy Dating Stories: Adalyn – 2015 – Crazy Is As Crazy Does

“I’m in my date’s bedroom, she’s lying on her bed, drugged and intoxicated, she takes off her top (now topless), grabs my neck and starts kissing me. Her mom, who is standing there, leaves the room to give me some privacy to do what can only be considered date rape.”

I’ve been using Tinder for over a year or so now, and I’ve always been pretty lucky. However, this incident was a different story.

Flashback a day earlier, we matched on tinder. I’m chatting with hot Adalyn. Raven hair, tan skin, and dark eyes. From her pics, I can see she has a smokin’ body. She’s definitely on the right side of twenty-five.

I suggested we skip the long chats and go for a drink, she suggested we chat on the phone first. We did for an hour and it was nice. Some laughs, some flirting and we agreed to spend the next morning in the park. We met, everything is going great and all signs are saying we’ll end up having crazy sex very soon. Left the park, had lunch and then agreed to go back to my place. She said she needed to pass by her place to change and get some stuff. No problem.

Things were moving quickly.

She introduced me to her mom, her dog, her cat and some neighbors. Seemed like she was getting a little too cozy for a tinder date. Then she said: “change of plans. My mom is going to spend the night at my brother’s place. Would you mind spending the night here instead?” I thought, why not? I’m getting lucky so I don’t care. She started preparing dinner and I started drinking. She started pounding drinks as well. I was feeling pretty good, but I could see she was already getting pretty banged up. Turns out her mom is going nowhere, and I had too much to drink. So in my drunken mind I decide to stay with them for the night.

That’s when things started to get crazy. The dinner table had shrimp and oysters with bacon (which I hate). So I started eating the shrimp, when my date offered some oysters. I politely declined and said I was happy with the shrimp. She insisted so much it got awkward, so I took it. She asked me if I liked it, I smiled and said nothing. She started getting angry, and yelled at me that I should be more direct and speak up. I told her I didn’t like it. It might be good but it’s not for me. She started yelling at me and demanding an explanation why I don’t like it.

That’s when her mom jumped in and tried to defuse the situation. To my surprise, Adalyn grabbed the shrimp plate and threw it across the room straight into the wall. Then she stormed away into her room.

That’s when her mom explained to me that Adalyn had been in and out of rehab because of depression and alcohol abuse. She also had two suicide attempts, and that she was on medication. She was not supposed to have any alcohol.

Now I’m feeling really sorry for her.

After awhile, she came out of her room, laughing as if nothing happened, and brought out some dessert and more champagne. Things seemed to be cool now. I tried to relax. But then, quite suddenly, she stood up and challenged me to a fight. She started throwing punches at my chest and stomach and then to my face. I was blocking or slipping all the punches and asking her to stop. Then she got really vicious, and started adding kicks to her attack. I grabbed her arms, put my weight on her, and took her to the ground. She totally collapsed and lay there unconscious.

I carried this poor deranged thing to her bed. When she opened her eyes, she smiled and then all of a sudden took her off her top, (now topless) grabbed my neck, and started kissing me. Her mom, who was still standing there, left the room to give me privacy to do what could only be considered date rape. (which I obviously didn’t do) I pushed her away, and started walking backwards out of the room, when she gave me a final kick to the stomach goodbye.

I ran out of the house and down the street. I called an UBER and was on my way back to Rittenhouse.

Not crazy enough? I woke up the next morning to a few missed calls from my date.   A couple of voicemails with a casual apology, and a couple of ideas for our second date.

What?

 

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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