I’m going to keep this brief. This is not the story of Alis and me. I’ll write about that relationship some other time. Maybe if I ever write a book entitled PhickleNYC.
It was 2006. I was working as a consultant for a company that did research for banks and credit unions. I was one of the guys that flew around the country cleaning up these financial centers and returning them to profitability.
When we had a project going I could be working on it for eight or nine weeks at a time. So I traveled most of the time. The money was great when you were working. But there wasn’t always a project. When that happened they would tell you, “You’re on the beach.” Which meant, go home and apply for unemployment until we call you again.
Our main office was at 32nd and 5th Avenue in New York City. I had met Alis on an old dating site called Hurrydate. Alis and I exchanged numbers and were soon chatting on the phone. She lived up on 110th Street and worked as a lawyer on Wall Street. She was a thirty five year old Haitian beauty.
I started going up to New York more and more, and after awhile I’d be staying over her place up there. Sometimes, I’d just live there during the week and go home on the weekends to see my daughter.
Alis’ biological clock was ticking big time. Her younger sister was already married and pregnant with her second child, so the pressure was on in Alis’s mind. She wanted to find a husband and have a child. She was on several dating sites. Maybe all of them at the time.
Alis really took a liking to me and we had a lot of fun together. It was nice to be with such an intelligent woman that had not been marred by the media. She never watched television as a kid. So her head isn’t filled with a lot of worthless pop culture references like mine.
But after awhile the fun wears off and the reality sets in. She really started working on me to get married and give her a child. It was too soon to be discussing that sort of thing. But she also really liked being with me. If I had married her and had a kid or two I would have been set for life. Nice apartment in Manhattan, a wife that makes tons of loot and I could maybe even stay home with the kids and be a house dad.
But I wouldn’t be happy. I’ve never “settled” on anybody. I know many people who settle. Settling on someone says to me you’ve given up and are simply tired of failing and then having to search for love again. I get it. That’s you. Never me. Do you thing Thomas Edison gave up after failing 500 times trying to invent the incandescent lightbulb? Of course he didn’t. He just looked upon it as a 500 step process.
As much as I loved Alis, I had to tell her I didn’t want to have any more children. I had my one daughter and that would be it. She got on craigslist and found me an apartment in Jersey City and that was it.
I’ll never forget the last time I saw her. I was standing in her doorway.
“Sorry you couldn’t be the one. I thought you were the one.”
She shut the door and I walked outside to my car. I never saw Alis again.
Sometime after that I moved back to Philadelphia. Where this story really begins.
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday, Tuesday & Wednesday at 9am EST.
Instagram: @phicklephilly Facebook: phicklephilly