Racquel Writes! 5 Reasons Why Online Dating Works

via 5 Reasons Why Online Dating Works

Advertisements

Things some Wives are Doing That Destroys Their Marriage

https://va.topbuzz.com/s/hdSy

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Instagram: @phicklephilly      Facebook: phicklephilly   Twitter: @phicklephilly

More Love for Legs

I love women’s legs. I remember intentionally dropping my crayon on the floor in 2nd grade, just so I could check out my teacher’s legs as she dangled one shoe off her foot while sitting there reading us all a story. I can’t learn that. It’s just something in me that I love about women.

This subject is actually a bit complex, I think, because there are both biological and cultural factors involved. Yes, from the standpoint of evolutionary biology, we could definitely point to strong, shapely legs as an indicator of fitness, and no doubt human legs have evolved in terms of both length and shape because of both natural and sexual selection. However, I tend to think that various cultural factors overlaying all this are probably even more important for “leg men,” who imprint on their particular focus within a specific cultural context.

The accidents of personal experience play a very significant part. If you come to associate women’s legs with sex during puberty, that will probably stick with you for your whole life. And it could be for various reasons: seeing sexy pantyhose commercials on TV, noting a particular girl’s legs in school (because of how she’s dressed), talking about women’s legs with friends at the time, etc. And then perhaps this association becomes even more strongly reinforced by envisioning and dreaming about women’s legs (including images from the media and real life) while you masturbate.

Our culture definitely tends to treat women’s legs as sexy, so there’s also a very potent trans-personal cultural dynamic at work. Personal experience hooks into that quite readily, because it’s out there in various forms in the media and everyday life. Just seeing, say, a dance by a “leg goddess” such as Cyd Charisse in an old musical might imprint on your mind for life.

A culture doesn’t have to grant women’s legs this particular sexual emphasis, and not all do, but it’s a non-arbitrary association, because their legs lead directly to the obvious.

And this association is enhanced by cultural norms in various ways. First, in our culture, women shave their legs, making them smooth and even sexier and also yet more different from the legs of men. (They’re already naturally much less hairy, more rounded, and more shapely.) Women also often exercise them specifically in order to improve their tone and shape and perhaps tan them as well. And use skin softeners and so forth. Further, they wear stockings or pantyhose, which gives them an even smoother, sheerer texture and conceals minor blemishes, suggesting physical perfection. They also wear high-heeled shoes, which flex the muscles of the legs with each step, emphasizing shapeliness and fitness. And they sometimes wear short skirts or slit dresses or whatever that draw the eyes to the legs and emphasize them. A male who grows up surrounded by all this can be forgiven for developing an obsession with women’s legs.

And what’s not to like? Legs appeal to multiple senses: sight and touch. There’s a superb shape and line as well as an enticing texture (enhanced, of course, by shaving and perhaps nylons). At the sight of a woman’s legs, a man might well dream of running his hands over them and coming between them. And that smoothness in turn suggests and evokes what? Well, the vagina itself. So it’s no “accident” at all that shaving and wearing nylons are cultural enhancements that even more strongly allow legs to evoke feminine sexuality and enhance female sexual power.

With clothing, legs can also very handily be both revealed and concealed, which makes them almost uniquely empowered to allow women to tease and seduce men and inflame their imaginations. Legs being long, a little can be revealed, then a little more, then …. and so on, all the way up. It all depends on how much she wants to show. And sometimes less can be more. In addition, the momentary flash of legs through a slit skirt while a woman is in stride or crossing her legs can burn a potent image into a receptive man’s mind, both because they are beautiful in and of themselves and also because they suggest sexual availability. And if they are subsequently concealed, you yearn to see them again and also to see more. Dresses and skirts are all about advertising accessibility while also concealing and withholding.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Instagram: @phicklephilly Facebook: phicklephilly

Prova – Boycott

I wasn’t going to run this, but fuck you, Prova.

Boycott

[ˈboiˌkät]

VERB

1.withdraw from commercial or social relations with (a country, organization, or person) as a punishment or protest.

synonyms: spurn · snub · shun · avoid · abstain from · wash one’s hands of

NOUN

1.a punitive ban that forbids relations with certain groups, cooperation with a policy, or the handling of goods.

synonyms: ban · veto · embargo · prohibition · sanction · restriction · avoidance

 

Anytime I end up covering a Saturday for Summer at the salon I usually walk around the corner to see Prova at the bar where she works.

I specifically go there to see her. We’ve both been working a lot and busy with our lives. I haven’t hung out with her in a few months. The last time we were actually out together was at the Angel’s Envy event at the Red Owl in the Hotel Monaco.

I sit at the end of the bar and chat with her and the other bartender, Lizzie. I order a glass of chardonnay with a side of ice. I ask them if I can run over to Dunkin’ Donuts and get them coffee and donuts. They leap at that opportunity and I tell them I’m going out for a smoke and then I’ll go to the store.

Later I come back with exactly what they wanted. Two medium coffees, cream and sugar. A blueberry and a chocolate frosted for Prova, and a frosted for Lizzie.

The girls are happy and Lizzie even high fives me to give thanks to the bounty I have provided.

I’m there for a couple of hours and in that time I’m talking to Prova. She tells me she’s leaving her other job at the rooftop lounge. She hasn’t told them she’s leaving yet but she’s looking. I remember I was there the week before and she had mentioned that. With the success I’ve had getting her this job, and the other one down at the beer garden two years ago, I put the word out.

I even asked my buddy Zack over at City Tap House if they needed bartenders. He said he’d let me know by the end of the week.

Prova tells me she has more days off than ever this upcoming week. I ask her if she’d like to meet me at Square 1682 on Monday for Happy Hour. She smiles and thinks that would be a wonderful idea. I’m looking forward to seeing her outside of this bar again and having a few drinks and chatting uninterrupted for a bit.

I make a mental note but also put it in the calendar. I won’t forget because Prova is my friend, but I do it anyway. I put everything in my calendar. I’m from the business world. (and so is she before she decided to bail on her finance job and work as a bartender in the service industry) You’ve got to stay organized. That way once it’s in there and I can think about other things.

I get my bill and I’m a little perplexed. It’s $27 for 3 glasses of wine. Hmm…

I pay it, and tip accordingly and leave.

“See you Monday, Prova!”

That Monday I’m at Cavanaugh’s doing my thing. You know my thing right? I go there every Monday. I get treated like royalty by Karina. A girl I barely know. My cheese steak that I don’t even have to order, because Karina knows exactly how I want it, and makes that happen. And how I want my soft drink to come out with the food, not before. It’s half off on Mondays, so a cheese steak, fries and endless cokes is $5. Then at 3pm she brings me a Bulliet Manhattan and another one around 4pm. My entire bill is $15.  I go large on her tip because of how well I’m treated. I pay cash because cash is king. THAT’S Hospitality. I can drink at home.

I come out to be served, and served I am at Cavanaugh’s Rittenhouse.

Around 12:30pm I text Prova to confirm a time for tonight.

“What time do you want to meet at Square 1682?”

“Hey sorry totally forgot about today. Can’t meet. Taking care of some work related stuff. can we meet tomorrow?”

“Nope. I’ll be working.”

“Oh, ok I’m sorry. (sad-faced emoji)”

“It’s okay Prova.”

 

But it’s not okay, dear readers.

First of all, I got her that job at that bar. Sure, I know, anybody can get you a job but you’re the one who has to keep it. I get that. But I hooked that shit up for her. I’m a regular there. I know the owner. He’s the Uncle of my partner at the salon, for goodness sakes.

I bring you coffee and donuts because I care about you and like making you happy. You in turn charge me $9 for every glass of wine I had that day. Are you that desperate for tips, Prova? No industry discount, not a “This one’s on us.”

Nothing.

I know every bartender in the city has a certain number of drinks they can give away for free.

But you know what the worst part of this story is?

I made a plan with Prova to meet up and have some social time with her. I value her and my time. I only surround myself with good people now. It’s been a great relief to cut all of the detritus from my life. I care about Prova and like her very much.

She didn’t even have the decency to cancel with me on Monday. She could have even lied if she just didn’t feel like going out that night. I wouldn’t have cared. If I hadn’t reached out she would have just went on with whatever the fuck she did that day and never given me a thought.

But the fact that she ‘totally forgot’ about our meeting hurt my feelings. I remembered I was meeting with her that night. I didn’t have to put it in my calendar, but I did because she’s important to me. I really care about her and our friendship. I remember what kind of coffee she likes and the exact kind of donuts she likes. I remember all of that. I remembered to give her a free tanning session last year. I remembered that she needed to find a job and I found her not one, but two jobs in the same week.

But less than 48 hours after making a plan with me. Charles. You simply forgot. Work related stuff? What the fuck does that even mean?

You can tell I’m angry, disappointed, and most of all hurt. Prova, you simply forgot about me. I don’t mean shit to you. I don’t like the way that makes me feel when you smite me.

It’s rude and I won’t tolerate it. So, I’m going to stop going to the bar where you work. I’m also not going to recommend the place to anyone. I’m not going to text you or make any effort to contact you in any way.

I’m also putting a curse on you.

The curse is that when you reach the age of 35, you’re working behind the bar of some tavern. You have no man in your life who loves you or is courting you for marriage. And you still have to live with a roommate to make ends meet.

Oh wait… That one’s already been taken.

The only way to break the curse is to realize I am no longer in your life before this post publishes. You’ll reach out to me and apologize to me for your infraction. I, of course will forgive you because I truly care for you and always forgive. Everything will go back to exactly how it was before you fucked it up by carelessly discarding a valuable person in your life.

I wonder if you’ll ever wake up and realize that you can’t do that to people who care about you. I’m a person. With a heart. You hurt me Prova. I’m sad. Fix it before this comes out and we’re good. If not?

We’re already done.

I conveyed this story to my buddy Jake and he said to simply let go of the infraction.

 

So I decided to take the high road and let it go. Why should  idrink the poison hoping someone else dies? It’s a waste of valuable energy.

 

UPDATE: I went into the bar she works in bearing coffee and donuts. She was very grateful and said it was just what she needed. I forgive her, but realize we really have nothing in common now that she’s fallen into the black hole of bar hospitality and nightlife at 35 years old.

 

UPDATE: 6/18/18 I set up a lunch with Prova and she was 30 minutes late. I held a special table at one of my favorite lunch spots. When she arrived, she ignored my reservation, and wanted to sit at the bar so she could she could see her friend, the bartender who she knew. This was a recently fired employee from a place where Provo currently works. The friend jokes how Prova puked on her carpet. Nice job. I’m sure your family is so proud of their daughter who is now working in a tap room and pushing 40.

 

Let me describe the scene. I’m waiting at my reserved table for Prova. She’s 30 minutes late. The music at Misconduct is too loud for the lunch crowd but the staff is too dumb to realize that. Prova rolls in and makes a bee line for the bar to see her friend.

She forces me to relinquish my reserved table and sit with her at the bar, because it is no longer about our meeting, but her hanging with her bartender friend.

We eat, and Prova plows wine and shots before her shift at Bar 1518 and I realize that someone I liked has fallen into the black hole.

I have no use for Prova anymore.

I watch as she and her bartender friend do shots in the middle of the day and realize I have no more use for Prova.

She’s a lost soul. and everything I’ve documented in this post stands true.

Good luck, Prova.

You called me for help. I helped you. I liked you. You squandered our friendship.

You’re not a morally bankrupt person.

Here’s your theme.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Instagram: @phicklephilly     Facebook: phicklephilly  Twitter @phicklephilly

 

8 Simple Reasons Why Men Avoid Ideal Women

https://va.topbuzz.com/s/UNSy

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Instagram: @phicklephilly      Facebook: phicklephilly   Twitter: @phicklephilly

Maria – Chapter 9 – A Drink with my Muse

I’m working at Mac mart and killing it. I love working there. It’s been an interesting transition from the tanning salon. I committed myself to the salon for two and a half years hoping some kind of equity position but that never materialized.

I”ve been killing it and I’m feeling the over load. My daughter and my new boss has warned me of working too much , but I love to stay busy.

But by working more at Mac Mart and less at the salon I actually have time off.  Something I haven’t had for 2 years. It’s odd for me to be free to do nothing at 5pm at night.

My friends ask me why I haven’t been at happy hour and I tell them I haven’t seen them at the bank.

It’s a joke but it actually rings true.

I’s nice to see $6,700 in your checking account.

But I’ve given up my shifts at the salon and relinquished them to the girls I’ve hired. I could take them but the ladies need them and I have the shifts at Mac Mart.

But with these shifts, there are days when I work all day and I finished at 5pm.

I’m not used to this. For the last 2 year I’ve been locked into 8pm at night.

I can actually go to an event and have someone work for me during my shift.

Our season is over and I’m down to one girl a night and I can focus on Mac Mart.

So I actually end my Thursday at Mac Mart at 5pm knowing I can go to Square 1682 because there’s and event there.

It’s a beach themed event. They have all of these drink specials at the outside tables. My favorite bartender on Earth is there. (Roman – Rock and Roll bartender)

It’s hot. Philly is hot from 3pm to 6pm, but the sun is setting and the event is nice. the music is good thanks to Roman. He’s singing some songs and its beautiful.

It’s a little alien. After working every night at the salon until 8pm every might, I’m accustomed to entering the night after that. My social life began at 8:30 or later, and my good friends were forced to accept that.

But tonight I’m finished at my job at 5pm and it’s nice. I worked the morning and afternoon at Mac Mart and it was lovely. I love my new career.

But to leave a job at 5pm after 2 years is a bit weird. I had texted a few people to let them know I’m off.  The Stewardess, a friend and finally,…. the muse, Maria. (See: Maria – Amore en Vano)

I decide to text her: “Happy Hour today?”

“I could technically meet for a drink. I have to work at 6 tonight. So random lol.”

“And I leave the office at 3pm.”

“I”ll be at Square 1682 a little after 5pm”

“I’ll see what I can do”

Classic Maria. Elusive and gorgeous. I have to expect she will NEVER come to meet me.

I know she’s busy, and I took a risk. I know I’ll never hear from her, but that’s our relationship.

Maria inspired the blog Phicklephilly. She can do what she likes. Be bad. Never get back to me. I’ll love you anyway, because you’re my inspiration and got me writing again after 10 years of nothing.

Maria you are special.

You can do whatever you want. Since it’s inception 2 years ago, phicklephilly has had over 970 posts, and over 51,000 views and thousands of followers.

You can do no wrong, dear.

Thank you.

I roll out of work and make my way east to Square 1682 two blocks away.

It’s a beach themed event outside the bar. They’ve roped off the street and my man Roman is pouring special cocktails and singing songs.

Industry people are there and I know so many of them. It reminds me of my past life in that world and I’m so happy to see them all.

I had texted several women that night to meet me just for the sake of sharing a drink. I had gone there just to see Roman and hear him sing after 2 years of absence.

I was sitting in the shade sipping a free cocktail with a gentleman I’m friends with from a fine Italian restaurant in the area.

I’m surrounded with lovely people I know from my past life in the bar industry. It’s great, but then I look at my phone and MARIA is calling me.

I take the call and am dumbfounded that I’m getting a call from my muse. She says she’s inside the bar.

I tell the people I’m sharing the shade with I have to go.

The muse is calling.

I go inside and the bar is empty.

But my lovely Queen is sitting at the bar waiting for me.

I am so happy to see her.

She looks gorgeous as always. Her hair is chocolate ribbons and her face is as lovely as a brand new day as always.

She’s been ghosted by her shitty boyfriend that sadly used my friend as a side piece and that breaks my heart because I adore Maria. This clown was able to be intimate with someone I really care for and then discarded her.

But that’s how it works in this city sometimes. We live and we learn.

Even I know now that all of my muses have been toxic and I can never date my inspiration.

But in this moment, Maria has appeared and I’m so happy to see her. The inspiration for Phiklephilly.

She just got her Bachelors of Liberal Arts in Marketing and graduated from Temple University.

I know she’ll that she’ll choose a handsome husband at some point. As she should. But there will always be the guy that wrote a blog that loved her hospitality at Misconduct and thought she was beautiful and charming with a pair of lovely legs that always loved her from a distance.

I enter the bar. My bar.  My favorite bartender is playing outside, singing songs and pouring cocktails.

I am inside with my Queen with my most hated bartender in the city. Dee. Just a ball of Awful. Fire her today.

It doesn’t matter, I’m with the muse.

Maria gets a tart fruity $7 cocktail and I get a heady one in a copper pot. I”m just stupid happy to be with the inspiration of phicklephilly.

10 years. I write nothing

Maria. Phicklephilly is created

Never date or get mixed up with you muse.

It was beautiful as the sun went down on the fun even outside, and I was in my bar with my queen for a moment.

I looked upon her. She said she went to the beach for a day. Her skin was caramel and beautiful.

She had to get to her job, but is still looking for a marketing gig now that she’s graduated. I’m shopping her resume to some of my contacts in the industry.

But sadly as hard as I push her resume to my industry contacts I keep getting the same response.

A career waitress at 32 with a BA in marketing will only yield a job in sales.

I’ve worked in sales my whole life and have been wildly successful, but sales in itself is an almost imossible nut to crack.

I want so much for maria, but based on what I know about the cold stark world of corporate  life, I don’t know if there is anything for my dear out there at this point.

I’ll keep pushing…

I’m so proud of her and Maria has come so far.

I am grateful for every hug she gave me.

I will always love Maria.

There’s just something about her….

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly

Murder Mystery Weekend – Chapter 2

 

https://lapetitemort17.wordpress.com/?p=41

 

hank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Instagram: @phicklephilly      Facebook: Phicklephilly   Twitter: @phicklephilly