Clarice – Chapter 2 – New Years Eve Brunch

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

Advertisements

On our first date, Clarice had said she wanted to go to see Rogue One with me. I agreed. We were to meet that Saturday and check it out.

I was on my way to somewhere, and I stopped at the salon. I was chatting with Trish. People were asking about the holiday hours that were posted at the counter. “You’re covering my shift this Saturday, right?”  She said.

I was caught completely off guard.

“Yea, remember you said you’d work for me this saturday, because I’m going home Friday to see my aunt and uncle and my parents for the holiday.”

I’m looking at my phone in my calendar. I don’t see it. I put everything in my calendar for just this reason.

“I’m supposed to see Rogue One…” Obviously not the answer Trish was looking for.

“I don’t see it in my calendar. Was I drunk when we made this plan?”

“I don’t know when you’re drunk!”

“Are you saying I’m drunk all the time?”

“No!” Trish looks like she’s about to cry. “I guess I can see my aunt and uncle next year…”

“Settle down. hang on. I’m going to make a phone call.”

I step out of the salon and go into the empty space next door. (It hasn’t been rented for three years) I call Clarice. Great thing is, being an older person she actually answers her phone. I explain my dilemma, and how I’ve got a friend and co-worker ready to squirt some tears in the salon. Clarice is completely understanding. I actually was happy to pick up the hours. I can go see Rogue One anytime. It would probably have been packed anyway.

I want to see her again, so I reach out to her a week later. I lock her down for brunch on New Years Eve. I’ve never been a fan of New Years anything, so it’s nice if I can do something during the day and then go home by nightfall. That’s when all of the amateur animals come out.

Saturday rolls around and I head to Jones. It’s a Stephen Starr restaurant at 8th and Chestnut. I forgot how noisy of a place it was. Hard surfaces and a high ceiling. They serve a lot of comfort food, and the place is decked out in 1970’s decor. It’s one in the afternoon and the place is swinging. I check my coat and wait for her. She appears on time. You know I like that.

She looks really good. Hair looks amazing. Those flowing raven tresses. Leather jacket, jeans and boots. Hot.

“Wow this place is busy. Are we even going to be able to get a table?” she says.

“We do when I have a reservation.”

The hostess takes us to our table. I’m happy to be here. I haven’t set foot in this place in over three years. We’re chatting and looking at the menus. I really dig their mac and cheese. So I suggest we share a bowl of that with a side of siracha. She agrees.

The server comes back. Clarice goes with a glass of prosecco, and I do a Yards Pale Ale. I put in for the mac n’ cheese, and let her order first. She’s not ready, but asks me to go first. I tell her I’ll speak slowly to give her more time. I go with the puffy french toast.

“That’s what I was going to order! I’ll have that too.” she says

“Should I order something else?”

“You should, so we can share.” Her again with the controlling. (This is eventually probably going to be a problem)

Am I imagining this? Am I being over sensitive? I’ll allow it. I decide to go with the Quiche. Because  I love quiche and I’m a real man. I looked at it before and it was my second choice after the french toast. At least it’ll be healthier.

“That was my second choice!” she quips. (Hmm…)

It’s noisy but I’m happy to see her and I’m having a lovely day. The weather is great and we’re right on the edge a new year. The mac n’ cheese arrives. It’s bubbling fresh in the bowl. Looks delish!

We rip into that, and it’s just as good as I remember. Brunch arrives a little premature, but it’s 1:30 and I haven’t eaten yet today so I’m in the mood for food. Everything looks and tastes great and we’re sharing.

After a while the place empties out somewhat and it’s a bit more quiet. we’re discussing the holidays and family, etc. For some reason I can really tickle this lady. I just start talking about stuff and she laughs her head off.

I ask her how her other dates went. She said she checked in with the Delaware guy on Wednesday about that evening, and he said he was boarding a plane. He didn’t reach out to cancel. He was just going to bail. She obviously took offense and didn’t respond. He texted her again on Saturday and she just ignored it. The friday guy she cancelled. It was supposed to be his third date with her, but when he was saying things like he wanted to come to her house and cuddle she was put off. Maybe the fool thought the third date rule somehow applied to this thoroughbred.

I kind of like that after she went out with me, everybody else either screwed up or dropped off. My Led Zeppelin prophecy came true!

I should probably get to the 300 pound gorilla in the room. The bill comes. Granted, she had two proseccos and I had three beers. The drinks are what kill you. The bill was like seventy-three dollars. My eyes are watering. I look at it and I’m like, wow. Oh well, its New Years. I don’t make a big fuss over it publicly because that makes me look like a cheap skate and we all know that I am more than generous. I let the moment steam a bit, just in case there is help on the way…

Come on… just reach into your bag and offer the tip. Just the tip, baby…. You can do it. It’s going to be 2017. Equal rights for women. Please…….?

Nope. Not a fucking dime from the CEO boss lady.

Killing me.

We leave and enjoy a leisurely stroll down Chestnut Street. We’re headed west back towards center city. I have to go meet my friend Carly around 4:30, to help her set up for New Years Eve at the restaurant where she works. Clarice says she can hop on the next train back to Upper Darby anytime.

We reach Broad Street. I mention to her that they’ve remodeled the whole “rotunda” (bar area) of the Ritz Carlton across the street. “Wanna pop in and check it out?” Clarice is down for that. Maybe they’re handing out free drinks. I know she’d like that!

We head inside and the place looks gorgeous. It’s all decorated for the holidays and they have reconfigured the space. All of the furniture is new, and there is more private spaces around the room. The bar has been completely redone. they moved it outward from the wall and now you can sit all the way around it. Plus there are little booth seats against the back wall now. I need to come back here for happy hour again soon. Maybe with someone else though.

Just sayin’.

As we enter the main room there is a pretty black girl holding a tray of champagne. I can’t believe it. Free drinks. “Happy New Year.” She smiles. Clarice and I each grab a glass and look for a seat. We see several areas that have “Reserved” signs on them. We walk by several empty areas that are like that. “Oh that one is reserved too.” I say. as we’re walking by a seated couple. “They’re all reserved, she says with obvious disappointment in her voice. Clarice speaks: “Fuck this. Let’s goes sit over there.”

“We can’t. This is the Ritz Carlton, we can’t just do that.” I reply.

Wow. What a change in attitude since my days with Michelle. We take off our coats and get comfortable on the pillow covered sofas in our little enclosure.

“Fuck it. I’m doing it. If whoever this is reserved for shows up, we’ll apologize for not seeing the sign and leave.”

“But I can clearly see the sign right there on the table, Clarice.”

With a backward swipe of her hand she knocks the sign off the table. “C’mere.” She says as she grabs me and kisses me passionately. Now we got a show. She’s taking the sting right of that bill from Jones.

“I thought you said no PDA?”

“This is private enough.” She pulls me in for more kisses. She’s a hot lady. Maybe this is what Valerie and June were missing. That youthful fire that this sixty-one year old still possesses. She was in show biz for years so I know how these carny folk are all horny, but it’s a good thing.

“You know what I’d like to do that I’ve never done?” She purrs.

“What?”

“I wanna go to a strip club.”

“Noted. I’ll take you to Delilah’s one day.”

I need to write that down in the notepad of my phone as ‘Things to do with Clarice’. We’re just hanging on the sofa and nobody is saying anything. I’ve really got her laughing. We’re having a good time sipping our free champagne. I do realize that I have to go meet with Carly, so we finish our bubbly and head out. Of course I help her with her coat.

We walk a few blocks and I’ve got to keep heading west, and she’s got to go north to jump on the subway. I thank her for the day and she smooches me again. I do like Clarice. I’m attracted to her, and want to see her again.

Maybe one day when we’re someday watching Season Two of Phicklephilly on Netflix, I’ll look back on these moments and laugh. But right now this research is costing me a small fortune. I think I’ll find true love when I meet a woman that doesn’t want anything from me.

Maybe she’ll  just want me for me.

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly

Clarice – Chapter 1 -The CEO

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

I met Clarice on Tinder. She is an attractive sixty-one year old black woman. You read that correctly. Clarice is the CEO and Chief Strategist of her own consulting firm. They develop effective marketing campaigns for non profits. she attended the Academy of Vocal Arts at Indiana University. her profile says she is curious, creative, impatient, inspired and passionate. She states that “Life is too short to be colorless, wishy-washy or indecisive.” She goes on to say, “If that’s your definition of feminine, then I’m just not that girl.” She’s not interested in hook ups, she’s looking for a meaningful relationship. “I know what I like, I know who I am, and what I can and cannot do.”

Well, let’s find out about all of that.

I asked her what I ask all of my matches on Tinder. “What prompted you to swipe right on my profile?”

“You have a friendly face! Sometimes it’s that simple.”

“Thank you for that Clarice, I like yours too!”

“Then perhaps we should meet face-to-face so that we can share our mutual admiration over a glass of wine…?

She gets right to the point. I like that.

We texted on tinder for a short time and I relinquished my number. She did the same, and we kept the conversation going that way. But it didn’t last long. I locked down a date and it was on.

We decided to meet at the Italian restaurant, Panorama. Clarice actually chose the place. The wine bar at Panorama is one of the premier Philadelphia wine bars, located in the heart of Old City at Penn’s View Hotel. Panorama is home to the largest wine preservation and dispensing system in the world as declared by The Guinness Book of World Records, no other Philadelphia hotel or restaurant offers such a selection. They have one hundred and twenty wine taps!

I hopped on the bus at 16th and Market street and rode it all the way to Front Street in Old City. Penn’s View Hotel is practically right there. I walk in and scan the room. The place looks like they remodeled it a bit. I look down the bar and there is the only black woman in the restaurant, so I head over. Clarice only had one photo on her profile, and she sort of looked stern in it. But I’m pretty sure it’s her. I greet her and get out of my coat and scarf.

I sit and we decide on what we’re going to drink. She says we should try one of their signature Panoramic Flights — a personal wine tasting offering a sampling of five different wines within a select group – from a selection of over 2 dozen fun and provocative themes. I’m okay with that. There are five in a flight. I’ll be interested to see who gets the odd glass. She wants food too. She says if she gets the mushrooms would I eat any of them and I tell her I won’t. But I tell her I’ll try them. I’m just not a fan of mushrooms.

We’re sharing the wine flight…sort of. She chooses one, and then I choose one. I taste hers, she tastes mine, and that’s it. The mushrooms come and whatever they did to prepare them, they did well. The shrooms taste pretty good. Then she gets bread. For a skinny chick she sure likes to eat.

She really is a lovely woman. Slender, delicate features. High cheekbones. wears her make up well. She’s glamorous and fashionable. Looks like money. I love her wrists and fingers. delicate and dainty. I would like to see what those legs look like, but this is our first date.

I run the program and she’s laughing and giggling like a schoolgirl. I can tell she’s bored with these other losers. Phicklephilly is the man for the job. She tells me she was with a man for ten years. married to him for five of them. She’s been divorced for thirty years! So she has basically been single all through her thirties, forties, and fifties! But she does say she was engaged to a Jewish guy for a while but that didn’t work out. She formerly was an opera singer. (I thought I saw a little diva in there) She has no children (Double bonus: No kids and too old to have any!) Like me, both parents are dead. She has one brother, whom she says has a shitty wife. There is no other family.

We sip our way through the next two glasses on our wine flight. Only one glass left after this round!

I can tell the date is going well and she is laughing and feeling refreshed to be around a man such as myself. She says she finds so many men boring. This was a Monday night. She says she has another date Wednesday, and one on Friday. I appreciate her honesty, but could care less who else she goes out with. Because when Led Zeppelin goes on first, those other bands should just cancel their tour and go back to their garage. I can tell she really likes me. One third through the date, she asks if I want to go see Rogue One with her on saturday. I tell her yes! Why not, she’s Pam Grier hot. Looks like she’s in her forties. Then she tells me she likes country music and I tell her that maybe we should start seeing other people. (Because I don’t like country music) she laughs, and thinks I’m a riot.

Final glass of wine, and guess who snags it. Yep. Clarice!

She picked the place, the wine, the food, set up the next date, and now the final glass of wine is hers. No wonder this lady is alone. Most men can’t handle a woman this aggressive, confident, and controlling. But I’m not other men. I’ll let this fish take the line out a bit and tire herself out. Then I’ll slowly and methodically reel her in, gaff her, and bring her aboard.

The bill comes and lo and behold,  I can’t tell you what Clarice’s wallet looks like, because it never came out. I help her on with her coat and we’re off. She’s taking the Market street subway line back out to Upper Darby. I can ride with her to 13th street because I’m going to Time (whiskey and jazz bar) on Sansom of our annual toy drive for the kids in the hospital at Children’s Hospital. I’m sitting next to her on the train, and I say to her, “I probably should have kissed you when I had the chance.”

“We are not doing any PDA (public displays of affection) on this train.” she quips.

I laugh and get it. There is a black girl across from me looking me right in the eye. I can’t have everybody giving her the gas face when I get off the train. I hop off at 13th and tell her I’ll see her Saturday for the new Star Wars movie!

 

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