Andrea – 2014 – S&M Girl

“Hi Lorelei. Daddy’s just going to take this fat, drunk bitch back to his room and tie her up. Then you’re going to hear a lot of slapping and squishing sounds. You’re also going to hear Daddy say a bunch of really foul sexually degrading things to this woman, so you better put your ear buds in and crank that shit up.”

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One night a couple of years ago, I was out with a friend of mine. We were having drinks outside at Misconduct at 15th & Locust. He was telling me a story about this girl he met on Tinder. Pure hookup. She comes over to his apartment. Sadly, she doesn’t look like her Tinder pics. Which is not good. That’s like seeing a photo of a car you want to buy in the Auto Trader and when you get to the lot to check out the car, it’s an older model and a little banged up and maybe even a bit more car than you saw in the photos.

But he was drunk and up for the foul deed. He said she was a thick girl but he went to town on her anyway. Like my tinder profile says: “If you don’t look like your photos, you’re going to buy me drinks until you do.” So he said it was good sex except for one thing. He didn’t like that she wanted him to spit on her and hit her. There’s nothing wrong with what two consenting adults do with each other behind closed doors. Especially if everyone’s on board with what’s happening. But he didn’t like it. Just not his thing.

He told me that he wasn’t comfortable with that situation. He said at that point no matter what he was into or what he would do, he couldn’t do that again.  It just wasn’t him. (He didn’t spit on her or hit her at all) At that time, back in the beginning of 2014, I had just come off a break up and told him to send Andrea pics of me. Because I was up for whatever she wanted dished out. The key here is when it comes to dominance, be firm…not mean. There’s a big difference. I would discipline and correct her if necessary. And remember, the submissive party is ALWAYS in control. They have the safe word and hold the power to cancel the fantasy at anytime. That’s the rules of S&M play.

Well, nothing came of it. Until earlier this year when she connected to me on LinkedIn. LinkedIn of all places! Can you imagine with all of the dating websites out there, LinkedIn brings me the crazy S&M chick? So we chatted and did some texting. She wanted me to text her all of the things I was going to do to her, so I did. I have a pretty good imagination. She said she was getting really turned on and that we should meet.

I set it up that we should meet at the Ranstead Room. It’s just a good spot normally to hideout with somebody. I get there and I’m just chilling with a drink. She arrives shortly thereafter. My friend was right about her. In her Tinder pics she looks really hot, but in real life she is a lot bigger, and what was with that low tranny voice? Not good. I just wasn’t feeling it. I would have to drink a LOT of cocktails for Andrea to start to resemble her profile pics on Tinder. So I figured what the hell, I was already here and the drinks were flowing. She wasn’t that hot but at least I was someplace where nobody knew me.

Then the manager from the restaurant where my daughter works suddenly comes through the door and walks right up to me and says hello using my name.

Now I’m made. He can see who I’m with and now everybody there knows my name.

Andrea starts telling me about her life. She hates her job and wants to leave Philly. (Probably a good idea for us all.) She was seeing some crazy drug dealer loser guy. He’s suicidal, and does tons of coke. It’s bad, and she’s not much better.  I always thought if you did a bunch of cocaine you were skinny. Certainly not the case here.

After awhile we’re getting pretty tipsy. We went outside for a cigarette. She was on me like a northern pike hitting the bait. So I’m making out with her and people are walking by on Ranstead and she just pulls her boobs out. She’s losing her shit. She wants to take me back behind the building and give me a blowjob.

Yea. Great. I’ll just go stand behind my daughter’s manager’s Mercedes-Benz and you can give me oral. What if he walks outside and sees that shit? That’s not going to be good for me or anybody. Now, if this was Los Angeles and it was 1982, yea I’d be down for that, but not now. That’s gross. Sure, I’m flattered that she’s turned on enough from my words and the alcohol to want to blow me in a filthy alley, but no. Just no. I don’t roll like that.

She’s drunk. We go back inside and we’re in the vestibule and all sorts of things are happening with lips and fingers. If somebody comes through either door, we’re going to jail. So after that brief encounter, we go back inside. I kind of want to go home. In the right environment, some S&M play could be fun with her, but I’m just not getting a good vibe from her in this moment. She’s calling me daddy and all that shit. She says she loves older men, etc. I tell her I have an early sales meeting in the morning that I have to travel to so we should wrap it up. (A bold-faced lie)

She wants to go back to my place and have sex. Great idea. I can see it now. Me walking through the door to my apartment with Andrea and my daughter sitting on the sofa.

“Hi Lorelei. Daddy’s just going to take this fat, drunk bitch back to his room and tie her up. Then you’re going to hear a lot of slapping and squishing sounds. You’re also going to hear Daddy say a bunch of really foul sexually degrading things to this woman, so you better put your ear buds in and crank that shit up.”

No. Not happening. We pay the bill, and we walk over to 18th Street. I hail her a taxi and send her on her way. I was actually relieved when she was gone.

If somebody I met and was in a relationship wanted to experiment with some things, I’d be down with that, but Andrea just isn’t that person.

Update! She appeared at the salon tonight for a tan before she goes to L.A!

She’s leaving Philly for good!

 

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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Crazy Dating Stories: Samarah – 2015 – St. Patrick’s Day

Before we take our shots she looks me in the eye and says… “Whiskey makes me kind of crazy, just so you know.”

It was a couple years ago, and I had been an active online dater for a while. Long enough to know that people definitely exaggerate and even lie in their dating profiles, and that sometimes the person turns out to look nothing like their photos.

I matched with Samarah on Tinder, and she was definitely one of those questionable “swipes” where her photos were kind of blurry, but her apparent job and hobbies were interesting enough, so swipe right I did, and we ended up making a date to grab a drink on St. Patrick’s Day. Yea… St. Patrick’s Day. Not a fan. I don’t think drunk people sitting on the curb, throwing up into green plastic hats is what St. Patrick had in mind.

As an aside: When dating, for the first date I always only make plans to grab a drink or a coffee (generally a drink, because most people do better with a little bit of social lubricant when meeting someone new) so that I can get a quick assessment of the person and then split if there’s no chemistry or if they’re a weird, or whatever.

I get to the bar where we are to have our date, and the girl is nearly an hour late. (I HATE LATENESS) She texts me along the way to tell me he had trouble getting a cab, so being the nice person that I am, I wait for her to arrive instead of just blowing her off and leaving, as I was tempted to do because I thought about the nightmare I went through with Marisa (See: Marisa – 2017 – The Friendly Hostess)

When she finally arrives, she’s super flustered and weird, and clearly the socially awkward type. She looked sort-of like her photos, but had definitely put on a few. I’m not horribly superficial, no big deal. (Who am I kidding? Yes I am.) Anyway, back to the socially awkward. I know we all have our moments, but this girl didn’t even seem to be able to order a drink from the server without falling all over herself. I was like, “Whoa babe, relax. It’s just a beer.” I don’t believe she was drunk. However, that was my first suspicion.

So we finally get our drinks (I’ve already had two since I was sitting and waiting for her for so long) and exchanging the usual first date info, and I am definitely not into her. She had clearly lied about her job on her profile and honestly seemed like kind of a weirdo. This girl was a different breed of weirdo. Either that or she had some kind of mental disability that I was not able to pinpoint in the small amount of time we had spent together.

After about 10 or 15 minutes, she says “It’s St. Patrick’s Day. I feel like we should get some whiskey! Do you want some whiskey?”

Here we go.

I love whiskey and drink it occasionally, so I agreed. Samarah (awkwardly) orders two shots of Jameson and as soon as the server brings them over she tells her that we will have two more. I’m thinking “Okay honey. Chill out.” Because she had previously mentioned that she’s a lightweight in the drinking department.

Before we take our shots she looks me in the eye and says, “Whiskey makes me kind of crazy, just so you know.”

“Thanks for the intel,” sort of assuming that she meant massive quantities of whiskey made her crazy. Well, I was about to find out that she was being completely serious, and I was in for quite the show.

We clink our shot glasses together and before I can get the shot glass to my lips she asks if I am going to drink the whole thing. Um, yeah baby, it’s just a shot, but I confusedly mumble something like, “I don’t know, maybe?” I’m not a big shot drinker. Sometimes I drink the whole thing in one swallow, sometimes I don’t. Why does she care?

So I take the shot, and she takes about half of hers, and when she sees that I drained mine, she yells at me, “YOU LIAR! YOU SAID YOU WERE NOT GOING TO DRINK THE WHOLE THING! YOU LIED TO ME!” I just sort of stared at her, and didn’t have a chance to respond, because the server was back with our second round of shots.

At this point I am starting to think this is maybe a bad idea, but before I can say or do anything, Samarah downs the second shot and looks at me triumphantly as if she has accomplished something commendable.

Me: “Yay, you took a shot, what do you want, a fucking award? Is this date over yet?”

Obviously, I didn’t really say that, but I should have, because then she went berserk for absolutely no reason at all. As if I had at least said that, she may have had some mild justification for what was about to happen.

Samarah got super angry and started yelling and flailing her arms around telling me that she would kill anyone that came near me. She would fucking shoot anyone that ever tried to come near me. At this point, I was like,HOLY SHIT. This chick is psycho! And I start to wonder if she is possibly carrying a gun in her purse.

I make a move to get up so that I can pay the tab and be done with it. Samarah obviously sees me get up, and she just assumes I’m going to the bar to get more drinks, and says she needs to go to the restroom. I walk up to the bar and pay my tab, and look to the back of the bar (it wasn’t a large bar, just a standard, open, rectangular room with bathrooms in the back, clearly labeled) and I see her wandering around in small, drunken circles looking for the bathroom!

I decide to take pity on this poor thing, and walk to the back of the bar and show her where the restroom is (she had used it previously without incident so I couldn’t figure out why finding it again was such an issue. Maybe she’s on drugs?)

As soon as she gets inside the ladies’s room, I can hear her becoming violently ill. Puking her guts out. The people sitting at the bar can hear it and are looking at me like “What the hell is going on?” I literally told them, “I don’t know her. I think she might be crazy! Like, really crazy!” They continued to look concerned, but went back to their own conversations.

At this point, I should have just left, but being the gentleman that I am, I waited until she came out of the bathroom so that I could say goodbye. She comes out like nothing happened. She acts like a totally different person. All the rage and anger were gone and just this nice, normal girl comes out speaking in regular tones, and sounding not at all like the person that went into that bathroom a few minutes before.

I am saying my goodbyes to her, just saying whatever I have to say to get out of this situation immediately, and she pops a piece of gum in her mouth, and then grabs me and tries to kiss me! At this point I practically did a back bend to get my face as far away from her face as possible with her holding on to me.

At this point I actually ran. I full on ran out the door and started sprinting up the street. The bartender was actually around the corner having a cigarette and asked me as I whizzed past if everything was alright and I yelled back over my shoulder, “I’m fine! Just running away from that crazy girl!”

Bartender: “Who Samarah? Everybody knows that!”

I got home and figured that was the end of it, and I wouldn’t hear from her again.

Inexplicably, that was not the end. Samarah ended up texting and calling me incessantly for weeks asking what she did wrong, and begging to see me again. Those calls and messages went unanswered until I finally blocked her in all ways possible, and that was that. I hope I never see her again. I can’t imagine how she didn’t have any inkling of what went wrong on that date.

 

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.

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Church – 2012 to Present – The Motherload

“With friends like Church, who needs to go to the liquor store?”

My man Church is making some major changes in his life. He’s a brand ambassador and has collected quite a collection of different spirits over the years. He has decided to get rid of all of the booze in his house. So he packed up a few bags and gave it all to me. Here’s what he’s given me so far.

Starr Ultra Superior Spiced Rum

2 bottles of Leblon Maison Leblon – Reserva especial Brazilian Rum 

The Famous Grouse blended scotch Scotland

Social Still Barrel Gin 90 proof

Liter of Plymouth English Gin

Wild Turkey American Honey Sting Bourbon

Liter of Brugal Especial Extra Dry Rum

Social Still Gin

The Famous Grouse Smoky Black Blended Scotch Whiskey

The Famous Grouse Scotch

Old Potrero 18th Century Style Whiskey

Social Still Spiced Rum

Social Still Hop Gin

Buffalo Trace Kentucky Straight Bourbon

Karlsson’s Gold Vodka

Social Still Rye Whiskey

Boulard Calvados Pays d’ Auge VSOP Cognac

Macallan Edrington Ambassador Scotch

The Naked Grouse Blended Scotch Whiskey

Domaine De Canton French Ginger Liqueur

Chambord Resberry Liqueur

Johnny Walker Black

Westland American Single Malt Whiskey

Nikka Coffey Grain Whiskey

The Glenturret Highland Single Malt Scotch Whiskey – (Aged 27 Years!)

2 The Glencairn glasses!

and finally….

The Macallan 17-year-old scotch whiskey!!!

Obviously I was blown away. It’s the most booze I’ve ever owned at one time in my life. That’s over two dozen bottles!!!I cleared off this cabinet in my bedroom to house it all. It takes up two shelves. I’m so grateful he thought of me when it came to disposing of his booze. I’m sure I’ll find a good use for it. I have added to my own tiny collection. Two bottles of Whistle Pig 10-year-old Rye Whiskey, and a fifth of Ketel One Vodka from the Nolet Family distillery signed by 9th generation son, Carl Nolet!!!

I told my daughter, Lorelei we would crack the Macallan 17 on her wedding day. (If that ever happens.No pressure!)

Anyway, with friends like Church, who needs to go to the liquor store!

Love that guy!

 

 

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

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Church – 2012 to Present – Birthday Boy

Walk beside me and we’ll get you through the fire…

It was Church’s forty-eighth. He stopped up at the salon with a 200 ml of Jim Beam. I guess he wanted to get a little tuned up before we went to Keila’s going away party. Alice was nice enough to throw it for her considering Keila was leaving her high and dry. I don’t know when the party started, but I told Alice we’d be getting there after 8pm.

Church flopped on the couch in the waiting area of the salon. He cracked the half pint and poured half of it in an empty water bottle for me. He grabbed a can of Coke from the fridge and mixed his own whiskey and coke. I got him a scarf for his birthday, and he loves it. It looks just like one of mine, and I know he likes mine so now he has one.

I finished up work around 8pm. I texted Brooke to let her know we were heading over to Alice and Keila’s office for the party. Church and I go to their building and wait for the elevator. We finally get one and it’s full of people. These elevators always take forever. We finally reach their floor and step into the hallway. We can see the shared space through the glass doors. I see Alice putting her coat on and others gathering to leave.

We’ve missed it. It’s over. I text Brooke and tell her they’ve ended the party early. She says she has to attend a birthday party at Vesper later so if I want to meet her there we can. I agree.  (It’s a cool speakeasy bar on Syndham street, around the corner from Misconduct on 15th and Locust)

Alice and Keila are heading down Locust street toward Locust Rendezvous. (Small neighborhood bar, with $5 burgers everyday) It’s packed, and they keep on going towards Misconduct. Keila suggests McGillin’s on the other side of Broad street. (Oldest operating bar in Philadelphia) Alice vetoes the idea and wants to go to Misconduct.

We all pile in there. It’s noisy and packed as well. I tell Alice that Church that I thought the party was going to go until 9pm. Now we’re doing this mess, and we don’t want to do this train wreck. Alice is half in the bag. I tell her that Church and I are meeting Brooke over at Vesper around the corner.

“Are you mad at me?” she pleads.

“No. it’s just too crowded here and we need to go chill somewhere.”

I can tell she’s upset, but all they would have needed to do is follow us. But they didn’t, and I’m glad they didn’t. I don’t want to hang out with a bunch of IT nerds. It’s Church’s birthday, and I need to make sure he’s happy. We leave Misconduct. (It’s like a goddamn Chinese fire drill!)

Life is good over at Vesper. There are people at the bar, but against the wall are high top tables that are all empty. We park it there and order some drinks. Brooke shows up and I’m happy to see her. In her boots she is towering over me at 6’4″. We’re chatting about everything. her life, job, the salon, my new business development job. She says she’s here for some girl’s birthday party. The girl slept with some guy she was seeing some time ago, but they have reconciled. Still sounds shitty to me. I ask her how her trip to NYC went. I’m assuming it was a modeling gig.

Her heart was shattered a few years ago, when some guy she was in love with, neglected to tell her a small detail in that he had a wife. Brooke said she now has no expectations. Sounds like the walking wounded. You can’t let the shitty things that people do to you change your way of thinking or loving. They’re just shitty people. Learn from them and move on. Just try to make better decisions next time.

Brooke tells me that she’s on a dating site where people have to verify their incomes. She says she went to NYC to meet a guy that is a millionaire. She showed me some pics and he was good-looking and fit. She said she’ll only date guys that have been verified and have solid income. Now technically this seems like a safe plan on paper. But here’s what I gathered from our conversation.

Hot millionaire, (Or not. I don’t know how they verify income. Do you have to submit your tax returns to this site?) He’s on there and probably has no game. Because if you’ve got a million dollars you should be able to pull some serious tail on a regular basis. He connects with statuesque Brooke. She gets on the cheap bus in Chinatown and takes it to NYC for twelve bucks. If he’s so rich and he likes you, shouldn’t he just send a car for you or at least pay for your round trip ticket on Amtrak to have you up and back in a classy way? That’s what you would think, right?

Brooke schleps up there on a shitty two-hour bus ride. Goes to the guys place and he’s got her. “Did you sleep with him?” I ask.

“Of course.”

That is sooo Brooke. She’s always come off as a very sexual being. But she goes about it the wrong way every time. She has a slammin’ athletic body and probably fucks like a tiger, but no one keeps her around. I think it’s because she gives up the gold too soon, and really just isn’t pretty enough in the face for anybody to stay with her. I know this sounds harsh, but she needs to protect her vessel and make better decisions.

So basically, this hot “millionaire” sat back sipping a scotch in his Manhattan apartment while Brooke hopped on a bus in Chinatown and rode all the way up there to see him. He bangs a hot hard body for the night. It doesn’t cost him a red cent. Better than a free hooker, because she really likes him and hopes he’ll do the same. But I’m sure he doesn’t give a shit about her and just got some hot booty call for the night. She never mentioned him courting her, or taking her out anywhere in Manhattan. He just fucked my friend and put her off the property the next morning like a bag of trash. She gets to take the long ride alone back to Philly on a bus that smells like urine.

Bravo.

Well done.

I told this story to my dear friend Dina, (See: Dina – 4/2011 to Present – Lil’ Jap) at breakfast the other day and I’ll tell you what she said.

“That is not how you find a husband.”

I love Dina. She has always been wise beyond her years. (Like and old Jewish lady that I love)

So I tell Brooke we’ll catch up more in 2017. She has to go be with the shitty birthday girl. I get the bill and it’s my two beers and Church’s one cocktail. It’s his birthday, So I get it.

It’s getting noisy as more people enter the bar. I look at my phone. Alice texted me asking where we were. I tell her the Vesper Club and there is plenty of room.

Drunken crickets.

Church finds out his buddy Eddie is working the bar downstairs and wants to go down there. It’s the coolest part of this place. We walk up to the hostess stand. To her right is a tall bookcase. Church picks up the phone on the wall and speaks to the bartender downstairs. The bookcase clicks, and swings open like a door!

It’s a secret passage way to the cellar!

I love this!

We go downstairs and there is this dark bar set up down there. Dark lounge. People are in clusters on plush sofas drinking cocktails. It’s quiet and could become one of my hang outs, if I can get down here again. The bartender Eddie makes us a few drinks and they are outstanding.

There is a couple to my left on a Tinder date! I tell them some other good spots to hit around the city. She’s hotter than he is but it could work if he’s nice and has game. To my right is what appears to be three ladies that must work together. They’re all getting drunk and laughing.

I’m happy to be down here.

After two drinks and the ladies getting noisier, I know Church will want to go. Church doesn’t  like noise or nonsense. He insists on paying the check. I press but he wants to get it. I’m sure his buddy gave him a good hook up on the drinks.

I’m happy.

We make one final stop at Sofitel. He’s got connections there too. I order a Stella Artois and he gets a cup of coffee. They bring us a basket of fries and some dipping sauce.

It’s outstanding.

So we’re wrapping it up, and the night is winding down. We go to his car and he gives me a ride home. Church got a scarf. We drank a little bourbon. We almost went to a party. I got to buy him a few rounds of drinks. I got good intel on Brooke. We got the hook up in a cool underground bar. And some free food at another.

So overall I think Church had a good time, and so did I.

 

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.

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Michelle – Chapter 13 – Domestic Bliss and a Happy New Year

Is that a picture of my ass on that wall?

2008 was an amazing year. Barak Obama was elected President, The Philadelphia Phillies won the World Series, and Michelle was my girlfriend. That’s a hat trick if there ever was one.

Michelle was one of several people who got laid off while the company we were working for was once again trying to figure out what it wanted to be. (Print going bankrupt again!) I remember the day it happened she went out and bought me an Ipod for my birthday. I was very grateful and it was a wonderful and thoughtful gift. I love music and I couldn’t believe how technology could put a thousand songs into something the size of a pack of gum. It’s pound for pound the best gift anyone has ever given me, and I don’t like presents. I’d always rather give that receive.

Michelle started working as a hostess at a local restaurant. She hated it because now she had to stand there and watch people do the very thing that she and I enjoyed doing. She also took a job at a local retail store here in center city. Looking back on that now, that had to be tough on her. She went from making good money at a dot.com to being on her feet all day and night and doing something she wasn’t even interested in. She did finally get a good gig with a great company. Better than when she worked with me at the publication. It was a non-profit that was at the forefront of organ donation. This job would serve her well and help catapult her into a great career in the future!

She was fed up with her bitch faced, passive aggressive roommate, and I think that chick was leaving when the lease was up anyway. I wanted to move to Philly and get out of living in Pennsauken, NJ. So with us being in love, we decided to get a place together. That normally had been the kiss of death for me, because I like my alone time. But we really got along and I figured we’d be alright.

We got a third floor two bedroom apartment in Graduate Hospital, which is the neighborhood just south of Rittenhouse. Penn Medicine now runs the hospital complex down there now, but people still call the neighborhood by its former name. It was a beautiful apartment. Everything was brand new. The instructions were still in the oven. It had all of the amenities. Michelle picked a two bedroom because my daughter Lorelei stayed with me every other weekend. She did a wonderful job of finding a home for us in Philly and I love her for that. We have so many great memories in that place.

I remember the night she showed me the apartment. The realtor was late. (He is a very powerful real estate mogul in the city today) We ended up going to Ten Stone, (A neighborhood bar at 20th and South) Michelle put it to me… “Are we doing this?”

We split the rent and the bills but eventually I think I paid the utilities and half the rent because I earned more. One thing I never took into account was that the reason we had to pay $1650 a month was for the second bedroom that was for my kid that visited twice a month. In hindsight I should have paid more of the rent back then and all of the utilities. Sadly, back then I was paying $600 a month in child support to the Gorgon sister I call my ex-wife. But Michelle was always on point with pulling her share. But I know I should have always paid more.

We moved all of our stuff from both apartments in one day. It was brutal. My whole body hurt for a week after that massive move. We did it all with a single U-haul van I rented for $100. Her building charged her $100 to use the elevator for the day to move. Fuckin’ exit fees.

We didn’t care. We got plowed at Continental midtown the night before, but we made it work. We got all of our shit moved in and it was in piles of boxes all over the living room. I think we went for pizza at Lorenzo’s that night to celebrate our new life together.

It was fun living together for the most part. The holidays were coming and my daughter Lorelei and I went out and got a tree and set it up in the living room. It was so funny. It was like a Norman Rockwell moment. Michelle was working and we wanted to surprise her. My daughter and I walked from 18th and Kater to 4th and South, (Which is a hike) to pick out a tree. We found a great bushy one and proceeded to carry it by hand all the way home. I only had one pair of gloves so I gave one to baby and I wore the other one. Lorelei carried the top, (Which was lighter) and I carried the trunk. We took breaks because it was heavy, and switched gloves. It smelled so good! Pine Christmas sap! I love that smell! People were coming out of their homes and taking pictures of me and my daughter carrying our christmas tree across the city. They were going mad about our Rockwell moment. I don’t know how Lorelei felt about it but as always, she was a trooper.

We all decorated it and it looked beautiful. Michelle had lots of great ornaments that either she or her mother used to stress about. I don’t remember why. Maybe because there was some holiday history in those ornaments. I remember later she really stressed about those ornaments. I know Michelle didn’t really give a shit because she’s like me, (no pageantry) but her mom did.

One of our favorite things to do was to sit on the loveseat in our living room and watch movies and different TV series on Netflix. Michelle’s mother had bought her a 50″ flat screen for Christmas and it was glorious. We would binge watch on the weekends. Just eat, drink wine and smoke cigarettes. Sometimes Michelle would bring out the inflatable mattress and stretch out on that on the floor. She loved that thing just to rest her beautiful body after a week of work.

Another thing we enjoyed was sitting at the kitchen counter, (resembled a bar) and we would listen to music and just chat and drink. Sometimes we’d bust out Scattergories and play that. Michelle being a former National Champion swimmer, was very competitive and didn’t like to lose. Things could get intense during those board game sessions. I actually remember her getting mad at me if I got a little far ahead. I always liked that about her. She had that champion spirit. I’d be sweet to her, but still liked whipping her ass in the game. But I never wanted girlfriend to be mad at me because I loved her so much.

On any given night you could catch us slow dancing in the living room to the sounds of Johnny Mathis, Frank Sinatra, or Roy Orbison. It was a lovely time.

We were making so much noise one night our crazy neighbors downstairs were throwing pretzel bites over our balcony to get us turn it down! The bites were hitting the sliding glass doors, but I think secretly they wanted us to play more Johnny Mathis!

We didn’t go out and terrorize the city anymore. We watched the entire run of The Sopranos and all of Six Feet Under. I remember us both sobbing at the end of the final episode of Six Feet Under. We were both equally blown away by the show.

We even cried uncontrollably at Marley and Me. I don’t know why but we loved that movie together. (Watch it. Maybe you can explain it to me. We’re not pet owners)

It was New Years Eve, and we were just coming back from brunch, or something, and Michelle wanted to stop in a women’s apparel store called Couer. It’s on 17th around Sansom. We go in, and She’s looking at lingerie and what not and I’m just checking the place out. I get to the counter and they have this huge black and white photo. It’s a huge picture of a woman’s posterior in a thong, holding a fuzzy kitten backwards. So you see this cute cat’s face and her ass. I’m looking at it, and the photo seems familiar. It’s gorgeous and tasteful. Great ass and cute kitty.

Suddenly, I hear Michelle’s voice from behind me. “Is that MY ass?”

“Don’t we have an 8×10 of that photo from your modeling days somewhere in the apartment?”

“Oh my God! That’s me!!!”

“Wait…what?”

We tell the person working there, and we all get a good laugh. We can’t believe that giant photo is there. It’s Michelle’s delicious bum from her days as a Reinhart model. The shoot was discussed, as was the kitten and the photographer.

“He’s still here.”

“Who the photographer?” I say, puzzled.

“No. This guy.” And another lady comes walking out from the back with a big old grumpy Persian cat in her arms.

“Holy crap! That’s the little kitten in the picture?”

“Yep. He’s like ten years old now.”

We were blown away and left laughing and saying how this New Years Eve was already getting crazy. It really seemed that everything we did or touched made something happen. (That’s what happens when two people are in love and the world is open to them)

So we were invited to join a former co-worker of ours to see the fireworks and grab food down at Penn’s Landing for New Years Eve. It was a bitter cold night. (We’re talking teens) It was impossible to get a taxi, and UBER and Lyft did not yet exist in Philadelphia. But I had an idea. We walked out to the corner and were trying to get a taxi, when the idea struck me. We were right near this place we always ordered pizza from. I saw one of the delivery guys and said hello. I told him I’d give him $20 if he’d drive us to Old City.

His response was, “Get in.”

We hop in the back of his pizza delivery car and off we go. He stops at a house nearby and delivers a pizza. It was surreal. Then we’re off again. He gets us to our destination. We thank him and out we go.

I think we were at the Mexican Post in Old City. We had probably been drinking before and we drank more when we got to the restaurant. It was nice to see my friend and his wife, but at that time I didn’t know any of the other people at the party. They were a bunch of IT and tech nerd types.

Just picture the creepy shy girl who looks like she could kill you in your sleep if you ate the last of her Ben & Jerry’s. Or the nerdy guy that has no table manners and chews with his mouth open. That’s just the result of some sort of parental neglect of some kind.

We finish up and head down to Penn’s Landing. It is really cold now on the Delaware River. The fireworks are great but all I can remember is the penetrating bone chilling cold. (And I’m sure Michelle feels the same)

Somehow we got a taxi back to midtown and actually went to the Midtown Diner on 18th Street. It was packed and I think I ate a cheese steak and fries. Michelle told me when she went to use the bathroom there was vomit everywhere so she used the Men’s room instead.

That’s what I hate about New Years and for that matter any other holiday where every swinging dick in the city is out drinking like they’re Duff McKagen in the 80’s. St.Patrick’s Day lasts like three weeks in this city. It makes me just want to leave the city for those  weeks.

So there isn’t much to write here about this time. We were done with going out and getting loaded every night. No more crashed parties, no more crazy events. Even though we could sit down at anytime and reminisce about all of our deviltry, it would be for nostalgia’s sake. I think our domestic time together were some of our best times. We enjoyed each others company and some of our best memories have come from that calm tranquil period in our relationship.

I think Michelle would agree.

Michelle always said: “I have so much fun with you, that when the day is over, I wish we could do it all again.”

 

 

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Church – 2013 to Present -Seizure Salad

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, right? Me and my big mouth.”

Indeed…

 

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Sarika – Song of the Black Widow

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dude certainly has the power.

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

So maybe my pretty little arachnid is finally growing up.

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

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

 

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