Rocco – Amanda Peet

I used to work with Rocco at a publication here in town. He has since given his notice and is going to pursue a career in real estate.

When I began working there, Rocco was the person that took the most time with me. I had a million questions, and he was very patient. Since we’re close in age there was a certain comradery that developed between us. It was like the two old veterans, versus the young upstarts. (Both of whom have been fired. So do we win?)

One day, Rocco and I were sitting at one of our favorite lunch spots, and I was saying how I was in love with the waitress Maria, (First blog post ever: Maria – Amour en Vanos) and also loved Brittany and Kim over at the other place, etc. My usual fickle nonsense that he has to listen to when we have lunch. He says I am so fickle. I decide to write a blog called Phicklephilly. Both of us are long time ad men so we love the idea. We both love women, and are both leg men so there is that connection to all of the well turned calves and ankles we see on a daily basis around the city.

I really respect Rocco. He has built a life in the media industry in this city. He has met everybody and has all of the great celebrity stories to prove it. He’s a good dad and is a survivor like myself. He doesn’t have the best coping skills like my dad, but I understand that, and can deal with that. He normally only gets stressed when the morons around him fail him on a regular basis, in the form of clients and co-workers.

Rocco has a good gut feeling about what will work at a publication and what will fail. He is vocal about that in meetings, and sometimes that rubs management the wrong way because they are out of touch and think their ideas will work, but Rocco with his 30 years of experience knows that it’ll fail because it already failed 10 years ago. I can trust a man like that.

He also has some other challenges in his life. He loved his hot gorgeous bi-polar wife in the past but she left him and then was murdered by a lover in Texas. I can’t get into that here, that’s not what Phickle is all about. But he lost her. I’ve been with crazy chicks too. They have mad pull and it’d hard to shake them from your life, but you never wish them ill will. But she is his son’s mother, and was crazy and left. She made bad decisions and ended up dead. I know for a fact he has never gotten over that. That never happened to me, but I have had women like that in my life, and it’s always a struggle.  She’s his son’s mother. You never forget that. The tragedy never ends. My ex-wife is just an asshole but I never want anything to ever happen to her. That’s awful. I can wish her dead because she’s an asshole, but I don’t really want somebody to kill her.

Rocco is an interesting character, he has a quick wit that I absolutely love! Most people I know don’t have what I have but I can always appreciate a fast wheel. My dad liked it in his brother, and liked it in me, and I love it in Rocco because it reminds me of all of us.

He lives far away, but I wish he would come into the city more so we could hang out. We could have a bit of fun.

He loves the actress Amanda Peet. She is one hot lady and he adores her. One of his accounts is the American Jewish Museum here in Philly. She was going to make an appearance for a children’s book she was promoting. He loves her, so he approached me and asked me if I would go with him. I knew at that moment I had to get a picture of him with his queen. There was no decision. Just do it. I owed it to him. If it were me I would need the same. When he asked me to go to the event with free drinks and food and a hot actress that I loved in the Whole Nine Yards, I just told him yes. There was only one answer. I wanted a pic with that hot baby too.

We go there. We met at the hotel Monaco first. The Red Owl Cafe is on the ground of that Kimpton property, down at 5th and Chestnut. Rocco is very grateful of my apparent wingman abilities. It’s his night, and he knows he’s brought the right man for the job. If anybody is going to get him close to his girl and get a pic, it’s going to be me. Martinis and Manhattans are plowed. Rocco is not really a drinker but whenever I am out with him he is generous with the free drinks, and the man can handle himself behind a glass.

It’s time to go, and we head out after a double round. I am happy that I am on a mission for him. I’m clear in my directive and he chose me, because he knows I’m good at closing deals.  Rocco is an account manager. I am a salesman. I will kill myself to get him next to Amanda Peet. I’ve caught bigger fish and he knows that. I’ll get her.

We go in, and do the perfunctory bullshit that comes with getting into an event. He’s the rep. It’s his account, so he knows everybody. I am here for the kill. He’s chatting with his client, and they are happy we showed up. But we’re there for more.

We go upstairs in the elevator. There is families, and kids playing around. I obviously go right for the bar. Let’s gather some fortitude before we approach the target.

I see her. Amanda Peet is beautiful. Rocco is getting a glass of wine, but the great white is swimming to get a bite. I move in. She is chatting with her sister. I approach and compliment her on her book. It’s so good. I love what she has created, I act like I don’t know who she is. (A bold-faced lie) Love her work and what she is doing. Rocco stands down. He’s looking for a signal from the dark lord. Target is in place. I am chatting with Amanda, her sister, and her mom like they are my own family.

I’m very good at this because I have three sisters, and have been to a million holiday parties. I go in for a picture first because I need to claim the victim first. This is what I’m good at so I’m going to take the first bite. Rocco approaches, I bring him in warm, and he’s loving her. We do some shit chat, and I introduce Rocco like me and Amanda are old pals, because that’s where I have her now.

Rocco is ecstatic. I tell him to stay cool, and I’ll take a pic with my phone. He puts his arm around her and he is losing his shit. He loves Amanda Peet. He said something to her and she made a face, but she looked beautiful, and I captured Rocco’s dream. It’s like when I met Alessandra Ambrosio in NYC. It’s a big moment. I get the pic, and Rocco was happy.

They were going to do a presentation and a Q&A in the theater, but we had what we wanted and bailed. We ended up going to a Yakatori Boy, (karaoke bar in Chinatown) anniversary party with a bunch of girls we knew. I may post that but this story is way better.

I love this night and I came through for my pal, and he was so happy he met one of his idols. I’m happy I helped my friend meet one of his favorite actresses.

I love actresses and models.

 

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

 

 

Rebecca – Chapter 5 – Cypress and the Oak

Another tale of one man’s journey through the dating scene in Philadelphia, searching for true love.

We headed down Chestnut Street to Mix. I love Mix. It’s just slightly outside of the Rittenhouse bubble. How can you not love a place that has a full bar and serves delicious reasonably priced brick oven pies? Sure Zavino is good down at 13th and Sansom, but I’m not going down there. Too crowded, and too expensive.

We get there and head to the back room. The front of the house looks like a regular pizza place, but you keep walking, and the back is a bar with tables. We grab a high top and look at the menus. It’s clear to me a great weight has been lifted from her shoulders. We order up and sip our beers.

Piping hot delicious pie comes out and all is right with the world.

“What’s better than pizza and beer?” She says, as we tap bottles and take a swig. “Free pizza and beer,” was my reply. She laughs and looks at me while taking a pull from her Corona. “Hey, how come you didn’t ‘Super Like’ me on Tinder?” She quips, smiling.

“What? I don’t ‘Super Like’ anybody.”

“Come on. You must have at least tried it once.”

“Don’t you only get a few of those? You can’t ‘Super Like’ everybody, or people would do it.”

“See? You know about it, so you must have done it at least once.”

“Okay. Maybe once. Now that you mention it, I may have ‘Super Liked’ somebody just to try it.”

“Do you remember who?”

“Maybe it was some really hot little Asian chick.”

“Oh, so you’re into Asian girls.”

“Who isn’t? They’re adorable and smart and nice.”

She laughs. “Did you ever date an Asian girl?”

“I did. When we first got to L.A. I did.”

“I thought you had a steady girlfriend out there?”

“I did. But it was before her. I was 19 years old. Back then the drinking age in New Jersey was 18 and I was legal, but in California it was 21 so I had to get my friend who was 21 to get all of our alcohol. So we were in a bar one night checking out some bands. He got the drinks and brought them to the table and I told him as thanks, I’d bring us some talent to the table.”

“Talent?” she inquired.

“You know what I mean. I went downstairs and met these two sisters. The Yukomatos. One was my buddy’s age and her little sister was my age. I told them we had a table upstairs and asked them to join us and they did. It was easy back then.

” So what happened? Did you guys sleep with the sisters? I think I like this story.”

“No. Well yes. My buddy slept with the older one eventually. I didn’t sleep with the little sister.”

“Why not?”

“She was in love with this older guy that she was banging.”

“Really? I like her already.”

“Oh thanks a lot, you’re happy I didn’t get any loving.”

“No. Think about why I like her…” She gives me that grin and those eyes.

“Ohhh…” I am smiling now. “So how did it all end up?”

“My buddy would ask me to leave our apartment some nights so he could throttle big sister. I remember he used to put a sock on the door knob to let everybody know it was off-limits.”

“Oh my God, that is so college.”

” Well he went to college, I didn’t, so I guess he had a move.”

“You never tried to get baby sister into bed?”

“No, she liked making out with me and stuff, but not much else. Just dating stuff, like going to record stores.”

“So nothing ever?”

“Well, we fooled around some, but she used to like this thing where I stuck my tongue in her ear for periods of time. It used to really drive her nuts. I’ve never met anyone since then that was into that.”

“So her heart belonged to some older guy, huh?”

“Yep. I think she said he was in his thirties or early forties. At the time I just couldn’t understand that. I mean, she had this young, lean rock guitarist, lion cub right in front of her. Me with my long blonde mane of hair and all.”

“Yea, but you were young and inexperienced. Maybe she wanted a man.”

“Well at the time I didn’t understand why she would want that. I was right there.”

“Well, I’m sure he had things that you couldn’t provide.”

“Oh, you mean like expensive dinners, and jewelry and stuff like that?”

” No. Maybe she wanted a gentleman that would take her to the museum, not just to impress her, but could actually appreciate the art, and talk about it. Maybe he took her to the ballet and the symphony. You don’t know. I’m sure she was attracted to you cause you were cute, but maybe she loved him, and that’s why she reserved that part of herself only for him. You might have just been her boy toy.”

“Probably. But I enjoyed being with her because she was cute and nice. I hadn’t ever kissed an Asian girl. I like things that are new and different.”

“Do you see the correlation here?” She says inquisitively.

“I do, Rebecca.”

Were these girls smart?”

“Of course, they were Asian. Their parents worked in pharmaceuticals. They lived out in Washington Hills. That’s a nice area. I’m surprised somebody didn’t call the cops when my 1969 Volkswagen mini bus rolled up, and a German and an Irishman jumped out and went into the house. Their parents were away a lot. Palm Springs and Vegas mostly. They had an intercom in their house. I didn’t even know what that was.”

“Why would someone have that?”

“It was a big house. They had money. I would get on the intercom and pretend to be their father to scare my buddy when he was upstairs in the bedroom fooling around with big sister. I would be like; “Dude! We have to get out of here! Their parents are home! Then I would do an impression of an angry Asian man hollering over the intercom that he was going to kill the dirty Irishman that was deflowering his daughter with his samurai sword.”

Rebecca lost her shit right there. She was laughing so hard she choked on her pizza. It reminded me of when I used to do funny bits at the dinner table with my Mom and sisters. I would actually try to get them to spit out their food, or even better make them laugh so hard they passed something through their noses.

“Oh my God, that is crazy. You’re so funny!” she said.

I have heard that so many times before from women. I would say it is my gift, but it is just the way my mind works. Sometimes people mistake light heartedness as immaturity or simplicity, but they’re all wrong. To be truly funny you have to see the sadness and pain of the world. It’s all time and irony. A mind that can laugh at tragedy. One who can make light of things that are painful or embarrassing is an open mind. One who can laugh at himself. It’s like all great theater. Joy and tragedy. I was so happy to make lovely Rebecca laugh. I haven’t felt this kind of joy since my ex girlfriend Michelle, when we used to talk about everything. And I mean Everything.

Rebecca was ripping into her slices. Baby was happy. She seemed liberated from tonight’s heartbreaking tale. I love to see a lady eat. I hope I can cook for her one day.

“Okay, so what ultimately happened to the Hiroshima twins?”

“Well my buddy went back to Belfast to study law to become a barrister and I kept in touch a little bit with the sisters.”

“That was the end of it?”

“Well one night big sister calls me and says that there is some great band playing at Madam Wong’s East in Chinatown. So I go, and she and baby sister are there and the three of us are hanging out. I’m burning pretty clean that night because I’m driving. Now my buddy has been gone for months. Baby sister isn’t into me at all. I’m fine with that, she’s still with older guy. What if that dude was married the whole time and she’s just his side piece? That would be crazy, but I wouldn’t rule it out. So baby sister ends up leaving and I hang with older sister. She’s a great girl, and ex-girlfriend from one of my best friends in the world. We’re living it up and dancing, and having a great time at the show. I wish I remember who was playing. But if I can’t remember they couldn’t have been that great. I’m happy to be with her and then she tells me something. She says that when we initially met, she was really liking me. She wanted me but settled on my buddy when she saw I was into her hot younger sister. I ended up making out with her that night. There was some grabbing under the table but not much else. I wasn’t that into her but she was a sweet girl. I liked that fact that she was always into me though. We both had a great time and then she went home. I never saw either of them again.”

“It’s still a good story.”

“I guess. One of many. One of the more tame ones.”

“Oh really?”

“Well I was in a band.”

“Ok, rock star, but I still liked the idea that the younger sister was in love with the older gentleman. She knew what she liked.”

“I suppose.”

“Do you go on Tinder a lot?”

“Hardly ever now. I can’t really be bothered with it. It seems so superficial.” (Bold Faced Lie. I’m writing a dating blog!)

“Me either. I’m kinda done with it. You’ve been amazing tonite. Thank you so much for seeing me, and listening to all of my woes.  I feel so much better. I’m glad I let it out. I hope you’re not freaked out by it. I know you didn’t ‘Super Like’ me on Tinder but I’m glad we met just the same.”

“Well for the record, you didn’t ‘Super Like’ me either.” I laughed to make light of this nonsense.

“I know it’s all so silly.”

“Well if it’s any consolation, Rebecca, I’m not afraid to say that I super like you now and hope I can see you again soon. Youre smart and beautiful and I’ve really enjoyed our time together. The museum was amazing because of you, and tonight has been wonderful. I’m just happy to be with you. There. Complete vulnerability, okay?”

“I know we didn’t do the Fringe Festival but  I was just trying t think of stuff to do with you and then I went through my crap. Can we plan something soon?”

My heart is soaring. “Of course. Let’s text and or call. Whatever you want Rebecca. To be honest with you I dated an actress for a while and she liked all that Fringe stuff and I kind of hate it all. It’s fringe for a reason”

“I agree. Maybe we could go to the movies. I don’t care what we see. I trust you’ll pick and it’ll be good. I’m thinking buttery popcorn and candy.”

“I’ll find something good. Maybe I can email you a few previews and we can agree on something.”

“No. You pick. We’re both busy. We’ll make it work. Let’s do a Saturday matinée and then grab drinks afterward so we can chat about the film!”

How great is this? Did I rub a lamp and did this girl come out of it?  We crushed most of the pie. She says how she’s going to be fat from eating so much pizza, but I assure she won’t gain any weight if none of her girlfriends see her do it, so it doesn’t count. Like eating Snickers bars or drinking alone. Oh, wait, that second one is something else.

The bill comes and there is some pie left and we ask for a box. I say to her how it’s funny that the first part of our second date was her story, and then part two was somehow a tale from my past. She says how she would like to hear more of my stories and is fascinated by life and different experiences. She says she would love to travel, but it’s expensive. I tell her I just got my passport for the first time. She says she likes to go to the seashore and I hold back that there is a shore house in my family a block and a half from the beach in North Wildwood. Too early. I like to play some great songs, but don’t play the hits too early. Let’s see where this is going. If it somehow progresses, I’d love to take her to the shore. Just to take a break from the city, and commune with nature by the sea. Oh, who am I kidding? It’ll look like a hooker hotel room in Jersey City in the heat of the night.

I insist on paying. Rebecca giggles and tells me I have to pay because her credit card may be maxed our from her last transaction. “Totally worth it.” She says. It’s late. She has to work tomorrow and save lives. I have to write about this. We walk outside and Philadelphia is surprisingly quiet for once. I’ve had a lovely time with this treasure. The night is clear and the buildings are familiar. I have been on this odyssey for the last ten years and all I can think of is ‘Here we go again’. But I love the euphoria of this moment. The exhilaration of new love. I know that’s what it is. No one has said it. She may not even know what it is. She has had a measure of the pain and searing anguish of love with Derrick, but here it is again. She seems interested in me and may not know what kind of animal she has caught in her snare. But I’m willing to be caught and ready to go.

“I’ve had a wonderful night with you.” She says, taking my hands in hers. She looks up at me. Her eyes are dark and full of light. I don’t question what is happening. “Thank you so much for your time tonight. I can’t thank you enough. I feel like you fixed me. I have been wearing armor my whole life and when I take it off I always get hurt. I feel like I’m safe when I’m with you.” She lifts her hands slowly and gently touches my cheeks and kisses me gently. Her kisses are soft and sincere.

That’s the difference.

There’s no faking that. Ever.

 

Stay tuned for The Return of Rebecca, Part 3 in Two Weeks!

 

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

Prova – Glow of the Sun

I met Prova at a networking event a year ago. We were drinking and chatting, and I gave her my business card. I meet so many people in my line of work, if we don’t stay in touch, I’ll probably forget all about them. That’s just how life is.

One night I was working late at my desk at my advertising gig. I either got a text or a call. I answered and it was Prova. She said that I probably didn’t remember her, but she was looking for a part-time job to supplement her real job.

Prova works as a broker for a large firm here in the city. She likes to stay busy and wanted a part-time gig. I’ve done that job. It’s stressful and tough. She asked if with all my connections, could I see if anyone was looking for a bartender. I told her I would check, and get back to her.

I called her back in a couple of days, and told her a couple of places where she should apply, and drop my name. Within a week, she circled back to me, and told me that she had landed both gigs! One at a bar and one at a beer garden. She was very grateful, and we decided to meet up for lunch.

We met at Smith’s over on 19th. She’s a beautiful, spiritual Indian woman. She has lovely thick ribbons of raven hair, and killer dimples that light up her smile. Just great energy with which I can connect. She filled me in on all of the details of her life, and I did the same.

We’ve kept in touch, and met for food and drinks several times since then.

That was about five months ago and much has changed since then. I met up with her again recently at a local pub in Rittenhouse. We went on a Monday and that is 1/2 off cheese steak day. Which is clutch. You can get a cheese steak and fries for around five bucks. So we did that, and my favorite bartender there served us. Normally I don’t have any interest in eating dessert but for some reason that day I wanted it. We settled on Smores chocolate meltdown with ice cream. Just an absolutely decadent treat. Fantastic. I don’t take pictures of my food and put it on social media, but I did this time. Best part was, we had two cheese steaks, fries, she had a beer, I had a soda and we destroyed that dessert all for $17.00.  My favorite bartender told me the dessert was on her. She’s and adorable Vietnamese girl. Her name is Anna Marie. Maybe I’ll write about her sometime.

Prova loves her bartending gig and still does it a few nights a week. She has since left the beer garden, (It’s only open in the summer anyway) but has taken another job as a shot girl for a national liquor brand. She does that a few nights a week as well, and they pay her $30 and hour! She loves this new aspect to her life. She has decided to slowly hand off her client base and eventually leave the brokerage house, where she still works during the day. Would I date her? Absolutely. She’s a beautiful, smart woman. But I wouldn’t want to screw up our friendship. Plus, there has been talk of her attending church on a regular basis. If you’ve been keeping up with this blog, you’ll know I prefer my women with a “Touch of Evil.”

She has also recently moved out of her parents house in the burbs, and got a posh apartment with a roommate down on the waterfront. She loves her roommate, and says she’s a great person with which to share a place. I’m really happy for her.

Prova was telling me a funny story about a friend of a friend, that happened down in the Gayborhood. (All around 13th & Sansom) She said we should head down there one night and have a drink, and meet some fun people. I’m down for that. Who knows what kind of new stories I can get out of that night?

 

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

Sun Stories – Sleeping Beauty

It’s  Saturday. I’m off from all of my jobs on Saturdays. Unless I’m not hanging with friends or doing something with daughter or family, I’m off. Trish works at the salon every Saturday. She was relatively new to the job back then.

I’m home just doing some writing, and my phone rings. It’s Trish at the salon. She never calls me when she’s working. If there is a problem she would call Achilles. I answer and ask her what’s going on.

“There is a guy in bed #9 and he’s not coming out.”

“What do you mean, he’s not coming out?”

“He’s been in there for like a half hour. I don’t know what to do.”

“Did you knock on the door?

“Yes.”

“Did you call his name?”

“Yes. No one is answering. What if he’s dead?”

“I’m coming down there right now.”

I get dressed and jump in a cab.  Of course traffic is snarled as usual. I probably could have walked faster than the cab was moving. I finally get there and run up the steps to the salon. I talk briefly to Trish and then head back to room #9. I was really worried at this point. I know people have fallen asleep in the beds before, normally once the bed cools down they awaken. One guy woke up after his phone fell out of his hand, and hit the floor.

The guy had been in there for over forty-five minutes by now. Normally it’s a ten minute session in that bed. I knock on the door. Nothing. I say the gentleman’s name that’s in there. Nothing. I use a special key to slowly open the door. I am concerned about just lifting the hood of the bed. So I walk down to the foot of the machine, and peek down the cylinder. Inside, there is a fit, tan, young man in a little speedo. I’m grateful for that speedo because I really didn’t want to see anything else in there. He appears to be breathing.

I gently lift the lid of this large, powerful sun bed. I reach out and touch him on the shoulder and say his name. He awakens with a start. Wide eyed and disoriented.

“You’re okay.” I say softly, “You just fell asleep. You’re okay. Take your time.” He sits up on the edge of the bed. He looks groggy.

“How long was I asleep?”

“Forty five minutes.”

“Oh my God…”

I quietly back out of the room and close the door.

Within a few minutes, he scampered out the door, and down the steps. He must have been mortified, poor thing. He stayed away for about a month out of sheer embarrassment. But he’s been back in since then, and has managed to stay awake for every session.

 

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

Buy Phicklephilly THE BOOK now available on Amazon!

Listen to the Phicklephilly podcast LIVE on Spotify!

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly    Twitter: @phicklephilly

Michelle – Chapter 7 – New York City – Saturday

Another tale of one man’s journey through the dating scene in Philadelphia, searching for true love.

After the magic of the Wishing Stone, things seemed to move forward in my direction. The right direction! Michelle’s 28th birthday was rapidly approaching at the end of May. People were all asking the perfunctory: “What are you doing for your birthday?” Where it’s like, great… Now I have to come up with something. But she was telling people that she’d like to maybe go to New York City for the long weekend. She knew I had lived and worked in Manhattan for the last couple of years before I came back to Philly. We were chatting about it. I asked her what she was planning. She wasn’t sure but was definitely thinking of getting out-of-town, and NYC seemed like a good spot.

Based on how volatile things had been leading up to this moment, I had my reservations about us going away together. There had been so much back and forth with us, and as much as I would love actually spending time with Michelle on a weekend day, it just seemed like for some reason it just wouldn’t happen.

It was a Friday, and her birthday was on Sunday. I had picked up a little gift bag of goodies for her and hid it under her desk while she was away from it. She was very surprised when she found it. It wasn’t anything really valuable. Just stuff she liked. I probably had a couple of packs of Parliaments in there, her favorite Orbit gum, maybe some granola bars. Just little stuff. It was sitting on her desk, and we were chatting, and that little weasel that I told you about in Michelle’s first chapter comes over. He’s like: “Oh gum, can I have some?” Michelle is like, sure. But the best part for me was knowing the following:

  1. This guy is so far in the friendzone that he might as well be a blood relative of hers.
  2. He doesn’t know the gift bag with the gum is a present from me, or that it’s even her birthday.
  3. I enjoyed watching him really struggle with the cellophane to open the gum.
  4. She’s going to NYC with me and no one at our company knows we’re an item.

Weasel realizes it’s her birthday, asks her what her plans are for the weekend. She tells him she’s going to NYC. He asks with whom? She says, “A friend,” and smiles.

The afternoon went by and I don’t remember if I walked her home, but I probably did. Either way, on Saturday I was back in Jersey awaiting her call. She wanted to get some rest and leave for New York later in the afternoon. But based on the past events I prepared myself for her to bail. I was out that day with my friend Vicky. We stopped at Marshall’s or Ross because I wanted to pick up some new shirts. I was telling her the whole tale of what I had been through with Michelle. We were in the car ready to leave the parking lot when my flip phone rang. I answered it. It was Michelle. I was expecting the worst. She said if I could come by her place around 3:30pm she’s be ready to go to NYC.

For some reason I was astounded. I told her I’d be there, and went home to pack. Vicky was very happy for me. I put some things in a bag and fired up my ’94 Taurus wagon.

I got to her building and text her. She came down with her bags. I couldn’t believe this was really happening. It was like a dream come true. Here I was seeing Michelle for the first time on a weekend. We were going to New York!  She gets in the car and asks if we can stop at the Starbucks down the street so she can get a coffee or a tea. I pull around and she goes in and gets it. I was a little annoyed because we were already getting such a late start. I wanted to get on the road, and now we were making a stop already. But it was probably just my anxiety about the whole trip in general. Since I had just come back from NYC a year ago, it was an easy drive.

It’s super expensive to stay in NYC. I knew of a nice motel where we could stay across the river in Jersey City. It’s a really quaint, clean little place. We get there and go into the lobby to inquire about a room.

They say they are booked all weekend.

“Is there another hotel in the area?” I ask. “Sure. Go north on this road a ways and it’s up on the right. It’s called the Skyline Motel.”

“Great, thanks!” We drive over and come upon something we didn’t expect. The Skyline Motel is an old place on Tonnelle Avenue. We pull into the parking lot and walk up to the lobby. But you can’t go in because it’s just an Indian guy behind a bullet proof glass like a teller window at a bank in a bad neighborhood.

“Long or short stay?” He says. Okay. When a proprietor of any motel or hotel asks that question it only means one thing. I’ll translate that for you. “Do you want the room for an hour to bang the person you’re with, or will you be staying the night with us?” We paid and he gave us the keys to the room. We went upstairs. I swear, we walked past this skinny hooker at the payphone putting her shoes on. This place was one of “those places” The whole vibe of the place was sketchy. But it was the only hotel in the area, and we would just go with it. Michelle didn’t seem to care.

Actually, the room was really clean. The bed was clean. The bathroom was all new and looked great as well. Good hotel in a shitty area. Oh, there was a mirror on the ceiling over the bed. We drop our gear and secure the room. A few minutes later we’re in a taxi to the Path train. Once there we we walk through Journal Square. When I lived up there, I used to call it Mos Eisley. Because at night, Journal Square was a den of scum and villainy.

We hop on the train into the city. It only takes about 20 minutes to get there. We get off at 32nd and Sixth on the edge of Korea town. We walk a few blocks. Manhattan is enormous. It truly is an amazing city. I love Philly more, but New York is one of the greatest cities in the world. We step into a pub and have a few drinks and some food. We’re happy and having a fun day so far. We walk up to Rockefeller Center. It’s Memorial Day weekend, so the weather is warm, and the city is a little quieter because people go away for the holiday.

We’re having a drink outside. We start chatting with this older couple that are pretty much doing what we’re doing. Just hanging, and enjoying the evening in the city. We’re just having a great time, and at some point they leave. A short time later, we look down and we see that they have forgotten a bag with some things in it. We look inside and there are some tourist looking stuff, but there is also some medicines. It’s something the man probably needs. Michelle and I in true fashion, spring into action. We may be two crazy kids on the loose in NYC, but now we’re on a mission. It’s actually a good thing that it was 2008. That’s 9 years ago. Because there is actually a AAA hotel guide in there. I flip through it and the Waldorf Astoria is circled in pen. Can you beat that?

We head over to the hotel. I’ve never set foot in there. It’s beautiful. I see all of these bottles of Dom Perignon around the lobby as if there were some sort of event there that night. I think if there is a way I can clip one of those bottles out of here I will. Michelle and I used to sometimes steal stuff back then. Nothing big, like cars or anything, but stuff like glassware from bars. I don’t even know why. We walk up to the front desk and tell them what happened, and ask if the people we met are staying there. We tell them we’re not trying anything funny, just trying to help. They take the bag and call upstairs. The people are staying there! The guy is surprised and relieved. I don’t even think he realizes that he had lost his stuff. He tells us he’s coming down. A few moments pass and he appears. We hand over the bag and he looks inside. “Well I can’t go without that! Thank you so much. Let me buy you both a drink.”

All we heard were the words: “buy” and “drink.”

He bought us both a glass of chardonnay. I think we had two rounds.  He paid for the first round and then we paid for the second. We bid him farewell, and he went back up to the room. Philly is expensive, but New York is super expensive. I think it was $14 a glass. Maybe more. Regardless, we were relieved that he bought the first round or we would have had a $56 bill plus tip. You’re looking at $60 for 2 drinks each. Nightmare!

On our way out, Michelle is admiring the bottles of Dom around the lobby. I tell her I had thoughts of trying to steal one, but I didn’t. “Do you know why I didn’t steal one?” I ask. “Because it would be wrong, and bad karma after our good deed tonight?” She says. “That’s a great answer, Michelle. It really is. But it’s wrong.” How so?” she asks. “I didn’t steal a bottle because it would have been wrong. I looked closely at those bottles on the way in. I didn’t clip one because they are all empty.”

We laugh on the way out and are feeling energized from helping someone, while being a couple in NY. I have no idea what time it is because I am so caught up in the moment. We stop at another bar. I know there are plenty of bars in NY that stay open until 4am. We’re having drinks and a great time. An hour or so later, we stumble out of the bar and back to the PATH train. We hop the train back to Jersey City. As the train rises out of the tunnel and climbs the bridge across the river, the car is filled with golden sunlight.

“We stayed out all night!” Michelle exclaims. “Great night though.” I say.

We hop in a taxi in Journal Square (Mos Eisley) and have him drive us back to the Skyline Motel. Maybe it’s too early for the hookers and junkies to be out yet. We get there quickly. Michelle suggests we pay for tomorrow night right now, because she wants to sleep through 11am checkout today. We pay the man behind the bulletproof glass and head up to our room. The great thing is, the curtains are really thick. I pull them closed, and it is once again night in the room. We get out of our clothes, but I don’t think in front of each other. She changes in the bathroom. We’re exhausted.

Sometimes we do good things. Sometimes we do bad things. Today was good. I’m just happy to be with Michelle. I can’t believe my good fortune in meeting her.

We crawl under the sheets and fall asleep.

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

Tune in two weeks from now for the thrilling conclusion to Michelle – NYC – Sunday

 

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

Listen to Phicklephilly LIVE on Spotify!

Facebook: phicklephilly       Instagram: @phicklephilly       Twitter: @phicklephilly

 

 

Alice – The Stalker

Everything on Phicklephilly is true.  I can’t make this stuff up.  I wish it weren’t true, but sadly it is.

I was just told this story by my friend Alice. She is the CEO of her own IT recruitment company, and a dear friend of mine. If anyone reading this can help, please comment on this post.

One day while Alice was at Starbucks, a man came in with a very eerie demeanor. He looked like he was looking for something, or someone, and asked if anyone was sitting next to her. There was no one sitting next to her, so of course she said no. She was very consumed in her work so she didn’t really pay much attention to this man, when he peeped over her shoulder and said “Oh, I see your name is Alice.” She was a little freaked out, but figured he was just being friendly and saw her Starbucks cup, but then she realized her name wasn’t even on her cup, and he was peeping over her shoulder and was watching what she was doing. She had to meet a client at their office so she left, but it was also because she felt very uncomfortable. That was the only time she ever actually spoke to this man.

Ever since that run in with him, he appears everywhere she is. There was one time he followed her out to her car. Another time, he came into a different café she was in and sat right next to her when there wasn’t even a seat. Each encounter she pretended that she was on a call. Over the course of two years now he’s waited for her outside places that she’s been, showed up at her office looking for her, and somehow got her one employee’s phone number and reached out.

She even talked to the barista at the other coffee shop. They know who he is and have barred him from ever coming in again. When asked why, they told Alice that he has been harassing other young girls in the cafe. Like teenage girls. Thirteen and fourteen year olds. They all have told their mothers, and they have reported him as well. But nothing has been done.

One barista told Alice that he once went up to a group of young girls and said he lost his contact lens and they all got down on their hands and knees looking for it and he just stood back looking at their butts and up their skirts. So he’s not just some nut job. He knows what he’s doing. He is a diabolical menace that needs to be arrested.

He’s requested Alice on every source of social media she can think of, Facebook, Instagram, every platform she is on. Just this morning there was a silver car following her out of her development for about a mile. The car was following her closely. Almost tailgating her. Not thinking anything of it she pulled into the gas station as she normally would, got out to pay and get a coffee inside. She got a bad feeling, and when she looked behind her, it was him!

She went inside and ran to the back of the store. It was quiet until she heard the bell of the door opening. Then the sound of  approaching footsteps.

He went down each aisle looking for her. The owner of the gas station asked him if he needed anything. He said “I’m just looking around.” She said it felt like she was in a horror movie.

But it was real.

He must have gotten nervous and finally left. Alice came out of hiding and told the woman running the station, that he was the man who has been stalking her. She sprung into action, and got his license plate number.

I’m writing this because she called the police on each encounter and they told her that unless he touches her, or harms her, there’s nothing they can do. But they would put it in his file. Problem is, by the time this happens, that would mean that he harmed her.
Each time he appears, she tells herself she is going to confront him and tell him to leave her alone. But each time she sees him, every time it happens, fear takes hold and she is afraid to do so.
Today she called the police after this incident, and they said they had an incident with him back in 2013 but that was all they had on him. She told them that she’s reached out to them several times and they said because it’s in a different county they can’t even see that he has a history of stalking/harassment. ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? It’s 2016 and there’s no way for one county to see a record of someone in the next county over? This man is scary; he’s in his mid 50’s and has full on conversations with himself. He’s extremely intelligent as he has requested her on LinkedIn and she saw his work credentials. She does recruitment for IT positions, so she knows that he knows exactly what he’s doing. There’s just something really off about this guy.

She is an advocate for the police system, but she doesn’t know what to do. She is really freaked out. It’s gone too far. She doesn’t want to wait like a sitting duck, but wants this man has to stop following her.

Alice is afraid he’s followed her home and knows where she lives.

Does anyone have any advice? Also, why isn’t there a way for police stations to see incidents that happened in other counties? Isn’t there some sort of CRM software they can use to track that? Any advice would be appreciated.

 

Here’s a photo of this piece of shit. If you, or anyone you know can identify this man, please contact local law enforcement.

Image may contain: 1 person, closeup

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

I publish new Dating content every Monday at 9am EST. I publish Updates and bios and stories about Non-Dating related characters, such as male and female friends, on TuesdaysWednesdays at 9am EST.

Rebecca – Chapter 4 – Cypress and the Oak

Another tale of one man’s journey through the dating scene in Philadelphia, searching for true love.

It had been a while since I had heard from Rebecca. She certainly made an amazing impression upon me on our first date. It didn’t make sense that she “ghosted” me after our very first meeting. It felt like it had been a couple of months, and all I heard was the deafening sound of crickets. I did text her twice in that time to meet up for a drink and just never heard back. This has happened before. I know this other little hottie that is always saying she wants to meet me for drink, but can never pull it together.

But then out of the blue she texted me. “Sooo sorry for being off the grid. Can we meet up for a drink soon?” I told her I could do Monday or Wednesday. She picked Monday. I liked that because it was sooner. I asked her if she had any preference. She said for me to pick the place. I wanted somewhere that was nice, but not some place where we’d stick out like a sore thumb. I had a few days to figure it out. I have to come up with a place where they knew me, but I’d have some privacy. I decide to meet her at 1 Tippling Place at 6:30 the next Monday. “Great! I always wanted to check that place out!” was her reply.

1 Tippling Place is a really cool, living room style cocktail bar. It’s located at 20th and Chestnut streets. The outside is really nondescript. Just a glass and steel door, next to a large window. If you blinked or sneezed while walking by you’d miss it. But inside there is all kinds of neat comfy furniture and coffee tables. The artwork is eclectic and the room as a whole is nicely appointed with interesting artifacts. The cocktails are first-rate. They really don’t serve any food. I mean they have some little hors d’oeuvre, but that’s about it. You go there for the quality drinks and the atmosphere. I also enjoy the snarky attitude of the lead bartender. When you first meet him you think he might be gay. Then in walks his smoking hot girlfriend. It’s one of my favorite bars in the city because it’s an original that has real character.

I arrive early. I always like to get to a place early to scope out the scene and get the lay of the land. I chat with the owner. She’s awesome. Normally she’s in and out during the day, and then leaves around 7pm. We’re pretty tight. I’ve even walked her home on occasion. I normally don’t order off the cocktail menu. I just tell the bartender that I want something dark and spirit forward. They make it and I drink it. It’s always good. I will say that the place is a little expensive. Most of the drinks cost between $12 and $14.

I look at my watch. 6:20. Hope she isn’t late.

Hope she shows up.

Five minutes later the door opens. It was like one of those moments in those 80’s teen comedies, when everything moves in slow motion and they play some cool song. Rebecca enters the bar. I take a deep breath. Her dark hair is up, which always looks so sexy on the right woman. Her ripe lips an exquisite pout. She is wearing a burgundy cocktail dress. It comes to mid-thigh. She is wearing black sheer stockings and elegant black high heels. She looks amazing. I’m blinking my eyes trying to focus on this vision.

I immediately stand to greet her. She hugs me, and I am more intoxicated by her beauty and lovely fragrance than any cocktail that could be crafted at this bar. “Rebecca,” is all I could say. “Shall we get a table?” she replies. I nod, and guide her to a quiet table in the corner so we can chat. “You look lovely. I feel under dressed ” I say. “Well I haven’t seen you in a while and I like to dress up.” she responds.

We order a round of drinks. I have my usual dark power, and she goes with something equally strong. Interesting. That’s either a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe she likes a heady drink or maybe she needs a bit of courage. We chat about what we’ve been up to and she’s telling me about work, and some of the challenges she obviously faces in the medical industry. Then she says, “I suppose you’re wondering why you haven’t heard back from me in a while, and I am sorry about that.” I tell her it’s okay and I’m just happy that she is here tonight.

“Remember how I told you that I went out with that man who was older than me and I didn’t feel any chemistry after four dates?” “Didn’t that guy get married? He didn’t try to…?” “No…no. Nothing like that. I just wanted to preface what I was about to tell you, that it doesn’t feel that way with you.” she says. Now I’m getting a little worried and a little confused. “Do you mean you do feel chemistry with me or you don’t?” I ask, feeling a slight searing heat in my heart. This could go be a short date.  She smiles and takes my hand. “I do like you. It feels different just being around you. You’re not like anybody else I know.” I visually sigh in relief and she reads my expression. I need to be cool. “Don’t worry, I’ve thought a lot about where my life is and it sometimes can be confusing.” I reassure her that whatever she is concerned about I understand, and will listen.

Women don’t want men to solve their problems. Men are all about solutions. They like to fix things. Women are more about their feelings. That’s why men define themselves on what they do, and women define themselves on who they know. The way to a woman’s heart is really quite simple. Don’t tell her what she should do, or how she should do. Just listen. I’m just happy at that moment that I am the one who is present to listen to whatever it is she needs to get off her chest.  I just hope she can’t hear my heart beating.

Rebecca takes a sip from her drink, not breaking her gaze with me. Looking into me with those brilliant emeralds. “Two years ago I met this guy on Tinder named Derrick. He was around my age. As you know guys my age basically suck for the most part. They don’t know what they want or who they are yet. But he ‘Super Liked’ me on Tinder. And… I did the same on his profile so I thought it was kismet. I know now I only did that because he was really cute and not much else. Isn’t that why most people swipe right for the most part anyway?”

“I suppose. But I’d like to think that some of us are more thoughtful when it comes to matters of the heart.” I reply. (Bold faced lie.) She seemed smart in her profile, but I know I swiped right because she was smoking hot.

“I know right?” she exclaims. “Thank you! But I guess I was dumb and just being superficial. So we exchanged numbers. It all happened so fast. We met up, and it was fun. He seemed kind of full of himself and his band. But he was good really good-looking. He invited me to come out and see his band play and we’d hang out after their set. So I get dressed up and go to the bar where their playing. Derrick was the lead singer. I was kind of hoping he’d take me on a proper date, but I thought that would happen after we got to know each other. I suppose it’s not a bad way to meet someone for the first time. You’re in a bar surrounded with people so it’s not like you’re meeting a stranger in some isolated place. I also prepared myself for the fact that he was the singer in the band and usually they are surrounded by willing girls. I mean, you told me you used to play guitar in a band in L.A. Weren’t you always around a bunch of girls?”

“Sure. There were a lot of girls and guys at our shows. We played hard rock, so our audience skewed more male than female. But I had a steady girlfriend at the time. I was committed to my relationship with her.” (Bold faced lie)

“Well you’re one of the rare ones.” (I wonder if she can see the devil horns sticking out of my head?) Anyway, so I’m at the their show. I didn’t want to go to a bar alone, so I took my roommate Amber with me. We had an agreement that if things went well with Derrick she’d either hook up with someone there or UBER it home. I mean it wasn’t a real date so I don’t think there was anything wrong with bringing my friend with me as backup.”

“What kind of music did they play?” I ask, hoping to get insight about the boy through his musical tastes.

“It wasn’t emo, but it sort of sounded like that. I guess it was more post hardcore.”

This guy already sounds like a douche, I thought. She takes another sip and this time her eyes are down. I can see this is hard for her. “Okay. Please go on. I’m listening.”

“So they end their set and we’re hanging out. Me, my friend Amber, Derrick, and his lead guitarist, Simon. We’re drinking and laughing and having a good time. We’re at this table all the way off to the back. I’m sitting next to Derrick and Amber is across from me with Simon in a booth. Amber likes to party. Simon is ordering shots and beers and we’re all getting pretty buzzed. I feel like I’m really liking Derrick. He’s going about how important the music is and all of that stuff, but I don’t care I just think he’s hot. Next thing I know Amber is all over Simon. I look at Derrick and he’s on me. We’re just making out like crazy. Normally I’m not like that but I think it was the drinking that made it easy. Plus I wanted him cause he was so good-looking. It was fun.”

At this point I’m wondering where all of this is going. We order another round.

“So we decide we want to go someplace else. We leave the bar and start walking. Simon pulls out a couple of joints and we’re all smoking. Just smoking weed walking down the street. We didn’t care. We’re all giggling and Derrick has his arm around me. We end up some really dark bar. I don’t even remember where it was. We’re drinking and we’re all pretty messed up. The place is full of people. We’re in the back. Derrick is like, Do you ever go skiing? and I’m like, yea, I have been but I’m not that great at it, but I have good balance. Then he pulls out this little bag with white powder in it. I assume it’s cocaine. I go, Oh… skiing. I had never done coke before, but I know Amber has and she says it’s great. So they look around all paranoid and shit, and literally start spooning it out. Derrick does a hit and then offers me a bump. I just do it. I don’t know why. Amber’s like, “gimme some!” Then she and Simon do some. I couldn’t believe it. Doing coke in a bar? It felt cold in my nose, and I could feel this clear euphoria. It almost felt sobering to do it. But different. Higher. Intense. I can see why people love it so much. You were in a band in California. You must have done it right?”

“I saw what drugs did to my peers. I was more of a beer and whiskey guy. I smoked weed occasionally but never really liked it. A little drugs an alcohol can loosen the mind to create, but I knew people who did loads of drugs and it literally sledgehammered their talent and destroyed them. So no. I steered clear of coke.” (White lie) Get it?

“Oh well that’s good. But anyway, I know I’ve been blabbing on about this. Long story short, these guys come back to our place and we end up fooling around with them. It was crazy. I guess we were all just caught up in the moment. I think we stayed up most of the night. Well, Derrick and I ended up being boyfriend and girlfriend after that. It felt like he really loved me. I loved him.” She takes a sip and a deep breath, looking off into the distance, as if trying to visualize a faded past. An image that vanished in her rearview mirror long ago.

“What happened?” I say, concerned.

“We went out for about a year. It was intense. We moved in with each other. Amber had gone off to school anyway so it was perfect timing. Things were great at first. But they always are in the beginning. We always did things together and went places together and partied together like a really great couple. I know he was focused on his music and really wanting to make it. But there were a lot of times when he wasn’t around. Times I wouldn’t hear from him and couldn’t get in touch with him. A girl starts to wonder what’s going on. I even started spying on him. Going to places they were playing. He wouldn’t see me, but I wanted to know what he was up to. I wanted to trust him, but you know when you get that weird feeling in your gut that something’s wrong. Well, his behavior had become more and more erratic. I know he was doing drugs but I just wasn’t into it like he was. We just weren’t connecting like we did in the beginning. Like maybe he was just tired of me.”

“Sometimes he would even get really mad about things that didn’t make any sense. Well, one night I followed him after he left me to do a show, and I saw him making out with this redhead at a bar. He wasn’t even playing with his band that night.  She was like all emo or whatever with tattoos and shit. I was devastated. I just jumped on the train and went home.”

“I’m sorry I’m telling you all of this.”

I could see that her eyes were wet with the beginnings of tears. “It’s okay. You can tell me. I’m here.” I took her dainty hands in mine. She sniffed and nodded, holding back the tears.

“That night he had the gall to come home and try to do it with me. I pushed him away. He got all mad at me and I told him what I saw. He denied it at first, but I told him I followed him and saw him. He got really mad and started throwing stuff around. He broke this little snow globe he gave me in the beginning. At that moment I didn’t even care about the globe. He had already broken something far more precious than that stupid thing.”

Okay, now I was getting upset. “My God, Rebecca. I’m so sorry.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. She took a healthy sip of her drink. I wiped the tears from her face with my thumb. She hugged me. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s not your fault, Rebecca. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She sniffed and I offered her a cocktail napkin. (Note to self: Start carrying a clean handkerchief in your lapel pocket.) She wiped her face, and her nose. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

My bartender showed up at the table. “Is everything okay?” he asked. “Yes…yes. She’s just suffering a loss.” I replied. “I’ll bring you another round, yes?” I glance at her. “She smiles and blinking her eyes, nods in affirmation. He quickly returned. “These are on me guys.”

My man at Tippling is always on point.

“Okay, so that was over a year ago, right?”

“Yes. He took his stuff and left me. I was crushed. Destroyed. I cried for months. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I drank so I could get some sleep. When I would wake up in the morning, I’d  just go to the bathroom and dry heave over the sink.”

I could see she was struggling. “So did something happen recently?”

Heavy sigh. “Yes. He reached out to me on social media. I had blocked him from Facebook and in my phone, but I was on Instagram and he got to me that way. I had a panic attack when I saw his name.”

“Let me guess. This happened sometime after you and I went to the Museum.”

“Yea. I know it’s so stupid. He said how he missed me and how he was wrong and had grown so much. And like the idiot, I unblocked him in my phone. We met up and as crazy as it seems I was actually happy to see him. He looked a little older and a little more haggard, but it was still my Derrick. We were at a bar up in Northern Liberties. Things felt different. Time had passed. Too much time. I had grown and healed. But old habits die-hard. I just wanted to take a look at him. He said he was really sorry for what he had done. He said it hadn’t worked out with the redheaded slut. She actually ended up cheating on him with some drummer in a band that opened for them. I was actually kind of glad to hear that. But I’m sure he didn’t feel the loss that I had experienced. I had scar tissue on my heart from what he did to me. But I couldn’t let him tear open the sutures and open my old wounds. I work in a hospital emergency room. That shit hurts!”

Rebecca actually laughed at that moment. It had been the first time the whole night. That sound was like magic to my ears. I smiled a knowing smile. Because she didn’t know that I have been down that road twice in my life, and it’s a nightmare.

Love is a many splintered thing.

“So yea, that was a two months ago. I told him that I’m glad he was doing well, but I had moved on after a year and that I was in a relationship with a really nice guy in financial services.” She laughed again. “I could see he was disappointed, but I couldn’t let myself go through that shit again. It was a small chapter in my life and I had to draw the curtains on that dead body. He had me, and he squandered it. I think in that moment he realized that it was really over for good. It was hard to do, but I told him I had to get home to Cole, my investment banker boyfriend. He hugged me, and I knew I would never smell him again. it was like pulling the plug on a fatally injured patient.”

“So that was it?” I took a sip of my rye infused medicine.

“Yea. I went home and put on and episode of Stranger Things and ate an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s and had a good cry. So… that’s why I disappeared for a while. I just needed to think about some things and move forward with my life. So, I’m glad you met up with me tonight. I’m sure you never expected our second date to be this confessional. I really appreciate you listening to all of that, but it felt really good to get it out. I was like a little tree blowing back and forth in the wind, but now I feel more calm. Like the storm is finally over and I’m safe.”

“Well, I’m glad you trusted me enough after one date to see me again and confide in me, Rebecca. Like my profile says, I’m a good listener.”

“Yea…Thank you.” Taking my hand again in hers. “You’re like a strong tree. Good roots  with unwavering branches.”

“Yea, and my bark is worse than my bite!” I snapped. She cracked up. Rebecca was back.

“You’re awesome.” she said as she again hugged me tightly. Oh, that lovely slender neck and her fragrance was sobering.

We had our intimate moment and then paused.

“Are you hungry?”

“I’m starving!” she laughed.

“There’s a great bar called Mix that is one block from here that has delicious 12 inch brick oven pizzas.”

“That sounds like the greatest idea I have heard all day! Do you think I’m over dressed or pizza?”

“I’m sure you’ll pass they’re rigid dress code, Rebecca.”

And with that she pulled from her hair the thing that was holding it in place, and those rich ribbons of dark chocolate tumbled over her lovely shoulders.

It’s hard to believe that this story could get any better at this point, but it does. The bill came and my guy placed it on the table. I reached for it to access the catastrophic damage to my bank account that 6 drinks at 1 Tippling Place would cost me… plus tip.

But Rebecca was faster, and she grabbed it first. “Uh uh. This is on me.”

I was in shock. My face, a mask of disbelief and mute protest. “Are you sure?” She looked at the bill. “Yep.” She whipped out her credit card and stuck it in the flap, as she nodded to the bartender.

I instinctively reached for my wallet. “Can I at least help with the tip?”

“Put your wallet way.” She said firmly, giving me a wry smile.

“Will you at least let me buy a lady some pizza?”

She ran her fingers through her hair, fluffing her dark locks. “I’ll think about it.”

The bill returned. She signed it and handed it back. ” Come along, Sir. I’m hungry.”

I liked that she called me Sir. I also like that she took my hand, and led me out of there. When we were outside she locked arms with me. I was in heaven. We’re on our way to eat delicious pizza.

 

Tune in for The Return of Rebecca, Part 2 in Two Weeks!

 

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

My Family – Lorelei – 11/17/1996 to Present – The Apple of My Eye

When I began writing this story, I thought I would only cover certain topics. Mainly, my life in Philadelphia over the last ten years. The focus of Phicklephilly is romance and dating. But while on this journey, I realized my life is rich with so many other great characters, I should add them to the Phicklephilly universe.

So let me introduce you to my lovely daughter Lorelei. She turned 20 years old two months ago. Lor has always been a sweet, and easy-going child. Now a young woman. I am very proud of her, and its great watching her grow up and flourish. She’ll be occasionally popping up in my stories.

Her mom and I divorced when she was three and a half years old. She lived with her mom, and came to me every other weekend. This went on for many years. I’m not going to go into all of the details of my divorced life because that’s not what this forum is all about.That blog would be called, Nightmare in New Jersey.

One thing I never agreed with, was her mother putting her on ADD medicine when she was a little girl. But happily when Lor  was thirteen she came told me that she wasn’t going to take that shit anymore, because it wouldn’t allow her to perform in a dramatic way on stage. How fucked up is that?

Let’s have big pharma brainwash a bunch of stupid parents, and turn their creative and rambunctious children into dull robots, and life long drug addled customers. Just so we can make even more money for the stockholders. Pure evil.

There once was a kid whose teachers described him as unreachable. A boy lost in his dreams. Yea… that dude was Albert Einstein. Let’s crush any future Einsteins or Leonardo Di Vinci’s with a bunch of drugs. Shame on you all. And damn you all for what you’ve done. I was very proud that my daughter had the foresight to see what that junk was doing to her body and mind. So she kicked that shit years ago.

Anyway, Lorelei had become tired of the grinding frustration of living with her mother in New Jersey. Her mother’s 2nd ex-husband after me, was usually the blame, but once they divorced and he went back to Arizona, she was out of excuses. My daughter was and A – B student who was a beloved member of her high school’s theatrical group. She was lead soprano in a musical in 2014, and co-star of the musical they performed her senior year in 2015. This was a good kid. You have to wonder why life with her mother was so hard. What do we ask of our children growing up? Do well in school, and behave yourself. Lorelei was doing that and more. But I was married to that harpy for 8 years, and I know what kind of fresh hell it can be for anyone to live with my Lorelei’s mother.

My daughter was having stomach disorders, and anxiety living with her mother. Being in that hell house with her mother had for years been an extremely difficult place to be. Sad thing was, I split after 8 years, her second husband amazingly lasted a full ten years before he left. But Lorelei couldn’t leave. She was a child. She was like a prisoner under the ragged claws of her mother. But once she reached the age of majority she wanted to escape. She turned 18, and by February of 2015, she asked if she could come live with me. “Daddy, I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to if it’ll get me away from her.” Of course she wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor, and I would never turn my child away. So I told her to come live with me in Philly.

There was an obvious shit storm that ensued. Her mother likes to control everything, but lacks any real control over her own life. But my daughter was 18 years old. She could do what she wanted. She could vote, buy a gun, and serve in the military if she wanted. So technically, there was nothing her mom could do about it. She fought it of course, but I think we even had my daughter’s high school on our side. They realized her mom is crazy and were fed up with her nonsense as well.

But all aside, I forgive her mother. It takes too much of ones time and energy to hold a grudge against someone. That is some bad energy that you have to maintain everyday. It’s just a waste of time. You only have to forgive once, and your mind is free.

Lorelei would get herself up at dawn everyday at my house in center city. She would walk in the winter weather to the PATCO station and take the train into Jersey everyday by herself. In the beginning she actually was having anxiety attacks at the end of each day, because she was expecting something bad to happen. She discussed this with me, and it seemed like a form of post traumatic stress disorder from living with her mother. I understand that. You never knew who, or what you were coming home to. I reassured Lor that nothing was going to happen. I was putting her on an allowance, and if she needed anything to let me know. I was always here for her, and she was now safe. All she would be coming home to would be her Dad sitting in his chair, sipping a glass of wine and watching Netflix. Nothing more. In a few weeks she settled in just fine. She’d get up and go to school in Jersey every morning 5 days a week. She did this until she graduated in June of 2015. She graduated with good grades on a Friday, and started working as a hostess in restaurant here in Philly the following Tuesday.

She has since gone from vegetarian to vegan. She eats a balanced diet, and is lean and fit. Her stomach disorders are gone, and she no longer takes any of the medicines her mother put her on. She works at her job and likes it. I let her live her life.

I love her very much, and would do anything for my baby. She’ll always be the apple of my eye. My one and only daughter. My immortality in this world.

I have always believed it’s not as hard as everyone thinks to be a parent. Just give your children love, good information, manners, consistency and discipline. I’m sure there is more to it than that, but that’s a decent foundation.

I always looked at parenting this way. I am the Archer. Lorelei is the Arrow.  I need to be firm when I hold the bow. But I also need to be flexible like the string. I must cast the Arrow straight and true into tomorrow, for that is a place I can never go.

Tomorrow belongs to our children. Try not to fuck it up.

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly

I publish new Dating content every Monday at 9am EST. I publish Updates and bios and stories about Non-Dating related characters, such as male and female friends, on TuesdaysWednesdays at 9am EST.

Sun Stories: Olivia – Flirt – Part II

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

From time to time over the summer, Olivia would come in and chat a little bit before her sessions and it was a small slice of paradise for me. Don’t get me wrong, there are dozens of women that come in the spa every day that are really good talent. But there is just something about a small percentage of them that just light me up. I think what it comes down to is, they are obviously attractive but there is something else. They have to be a little engaging. We have hundreds of active clients right now, and I would say under 20 really do it for us. Olivia would talk about her life a little and how she is dating some guy but it’s not working out. (Me, so happy when I hear that!)

One day a former colleague of mine was in town to meet me for lunch. After lunch he wanted to go to the spa. Yes, the same one where I work part-time. We get there and the waiting room is packed. The Temple girls are all going back to school, so they are all back for their treatments. He grabs the last seat and I’m just standing there surrounded by all of these women sitting around waiting. Who walks in but Olivia. She walks right up to me and hugs me. “Where have you been all of my life.” I swear she said that. We’re chatting and to me everyone in the room disappeared. I saw only her. The loveseat opened up when a few of the girls were being waited on, and Achilles from behind the counter says “Will you two sit down!” We laugh and she says “Yes Dad!” And I say, “Dad, you’re embarrassing me!” We takes a seat and she’s telling me about school, and work and stuff, and I’m loving it. This is the high point of the day. She tells me she is working this Friday, and says I should come up and visit her. She says she’s hostessing so she’ll be able to chat all night. I tell her I’ll see. She goes tanning, then off to work.

Of course I don’t go. After working at the spa until 8pm and then cleaning up, I’m ready to just go home and have a drink, and watch Netflix. I’m not getting on the train and going all the way up to Fishtown at 9pm. Not happening.

A week passes and it’s the next Friday, and who comes strolling in at 7:30. Olivia. She looks amazing as always. The great thing is, it’s dead on Friday nights and we can chat. The first thing she says is, “Somebody was supposed to come visit me last week and never did.” I apologized and explained why and she was fine with it. Her phone died and I told her I had a charger. She comes around the counter to plug-in and starts showing me all of these pictures of her family. Of course they are all Aryan greatness, and she tells me everyone has blue eyes. It’s a big family. I think like 5 kids! All good-looking. I’m looking at her beautiful face right next to me and her lashes are so long, and I simply adore her. I’m mesmerized by her beauty.

She glances past me at the other computer and asks what that is on the screen. I was working on phicklephilly on the other unit. I admit that I write this blog about people I meet in Philadelphia. She inquires deeper, and I admit that it’s about all of the women I have met in the last 10 years. She says she wants to read it and I should send her the link. I’m completely under her power at this point, but see a wonderful opportunity. I tell her I can’t do that because I don’t have any of her contact info. I give her my phone and she writes her name with some emojis next to it. A smiling sun, cherries, and a bomb. I don’t know what any of this means, but I don’t care because I am so happy. I now have her contact info. I tell her that if we meet up outside of here, I will have to write about it. I think she likes the idea of the attention. I tell her I change all of the names and use stock photos for the pics on each post. She says I should use her real picture, and I tell her I’ll think about it. She actually uses the words “Text me and we’ll go out on a date.” At that moment I was so excited, I wish I could have tied my belt around my head so that it didn’t explode like that dude in the movie, Scanners.

Ha ha ha! Yeah!!!!

Of course I say: “Are you sure? Like brunch or meet for a drink?” She says, yes. This is all very surreal, but I am overcome with euphoria. I tell her I’ll keep and eye on her phone and she goes back for her session. When she comes out she hugs me and says to reach out to her. I give her the phone, which she nearly forgot. Then off she goes into the night.

I’m super happy at this point. So as I’m closing up and settling the register, I put on some triumphant music.

The next night around 1:30am, my phone rings and it’s her. But I’m asleep! The next morning I see that she called, and there is a voicemail! I can’t imagine my luck. I wonder what she will say? I play the message and it is two and a half minutes of muffled static.

Later, I get this text: “OMGOSH I butt dialed you by accident!! I did it to like a bunch of people bc my phone was in my back pocket at work haha oops!”

I waited a few hours (because that’s the cool thing to do so it looks like you have a life)

Then I responded: “Blame your butt all you want. You know you wanted to call me! ha ha”

Crickets.

Sigh…

 

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

Buy Phicklephilly THE BOOK now available on Amazon!

Listen to the Phicklephilly podcast LIVE on Spotify!

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly    Twitter: @phicklephilly

Michelle – Chapter 6 – The Wishing Stone

I had been growing frustrated with what was going on between me, Michelle and Delaware Dave. Something had to give. She was with me Monday through Friday, every day. Weekends she was trying to put her relationship back on track with him. That, and of course the annoying, disruptive phone calls from him to her when we were out at night. No matter what we were doing, everything would just come to a screeching halt, and she’d have to take his call whenever the whim struck him. Just youthful nonsense and insecurity.

I consider myself a man of science. I’m sure life itself is a miracle and there are some metaphysical things out there, but most things can be explained by science and mathematics. But when you’re in love, you sometimes can do some crazy shit. Your brain is firing some mad chemicals through your body. I had been reaching a breaking point with her, but didn’t know what to do. So one day I was at my wit’s end and I decided to turn to some darker forces. I know this is going to sound nuts, but I really did this.

It was a Friday in the Spring of 2008. Early May. Weather was a warm and it was a sunny day. I was out making sales calls. I had made my way down to South Street. I came upon Harry’s Occult Shop. I went in and started looking around. I have a friend who is Wiccan and she believes a lot of this stuff. I also know a few younger women that are into all of the magic stones and crystals stuff. Like I said, I’m a student of science. I can’t imagine what all of this stuff does. A very nice lady came up to me and asked if she could help me. I literally told her my dilemma with Michelle. Some how I have been pulled into this store. She was very sweet and took what was happening to me very seriously. Apparently this is quite common, and they are good at this sort of thing.

The first thing we looked at were different crystals. I picked up this sort of translucent pinkish colored stone. The lady says: “Great. It chose you.” Very smooth. I started rubbing the stone with my thumb and index finger. “Okay, what’s next?” I say.  She gives me this nice smelling oil in a little orange bottle. She says to wear it like a cologne and also rub it on the stone in my pocket. I should rub the stone and say Michelle’s name. I should also rub the stone when I’m talking to Michelle or when I am near her.  That’s great. Reach in your pocket and rub a hard object when you’re talking to Michelle. That won’t look weird at all.

Then she gave me this plastic bottle of a special body wash. I’m supposed to use this every day until it’s gone. Thing is, the liquid inside appears to be black or grey. It didn’t really appear to look like something you should be washing your whole body with, but who am I to question these occult wizards?

I ask if there is anything else, or is that it, and she says she has one more thing for me. She reaches up on a high shelf and hands me a tall glass candle. She says this is some sort of love spell candle. the glass is red and the candle is white. On the glass that holds the candle there are two white hearts they are connected. She tells me that when I get home tonight, I have to write Michelle’s name and my name in the little hearts. Then I’m supposed to light the candle and burn it continuously for as long as possible. I ask if I can blow it out when I leave the house so I don’t create a fire hazard at my apartment, and she says that’s okay.

So I buy all of this stuff. It came to around $40 or so. She bags it up and I head back to the office. I dab a few drops of the oil onto the stone and on my neck and forearms. I reach the building and go up the elevator to our floor. I have to get my bag of goodies in quickly and stash it under my desk so I don’t become the laughing stock of my department. I see Michelle and chat briefly managing to get a few rubs of my stone in without being noticed.

When I got home that night, I set up my candle in the corner of the room. I took out a sharpie marker and wrote my name and hers on the hearts. Apparently this is supposed to bring our energy together, and drive a wedge of bad energy between Michelle and Dave.

Over the weekend, and all the way up to Monday morning I burned the candle and wore the oil and kept my little stone oiled up as well. Each morning I bathed using the black body wash. It wasn’t awful. It didn’t smell bad. It just looked dirty because all of this black stuff would be circling the drain. But it didn’t seem to discolor my skin at all.

I went into work on Monday and it was business as usual. I had burned the love spell candle all weekend long. I had my stone with me, and had freshly showered in the body wash from the river Styx. So I was ready. By the time 5 pm came, I decided to do something different. Instead of leaving with her, like I always did. (I was fed up waiting for her to figure out what she wanted.) I simply got up from my chair and walked down the hall to the elevators.

Michelle nearly ran up behind me. She hadn’t even change out of her heels into her flats. I was a bit surprised at her behavior. “Aren’t you even going to wait for me?” she exclaimed. I sort of acted like I hadn’t thought of it, but I had. So we left together and did our usual “walk her home every night” routine. We were chatting about some general things. We were at the corner in front of the GSK World Headquarters. Right where the Freedom sculpture is.

You can see it here: http://www.mymodernmet.com/profiles/blogs/sculpture-breaks-free

I love this sculpture, because I love the idea of breaking free of ones bounds whether it be physical or mental. That’s never easy to do, but this work really captures the spirit of changing your life and not being chained to your past. Of all places for the next thing to occur…

She turns to me and says: “Can I ask you a question?” I’m like; “Sure.” She asks me if I were in a relationship with someone, and they had dated or had a relationship with a black person in the past, would I have a problem of that? I told her that answer was an easy one. I had a black girlfriend when I lived in Los Angeles in the early 80’s, and also another black girlfriend when I lived in New York before I moved back to Philly. You can’t be anymore non-racist than that. I told her I love all women. I have all they’re albums. All shapes, sizes and colors. That’s what makes life beautiful. The differences in people. (As you will see in this blog my deeds speak the truth more than my words)  I asked her if Delaware Dave had a problem with her having been intimate with that black guy Tyrell in the past. She said he did. Maybe he called her a nigger lover or something. (Which I find abhorrent) But whatever had happened over the weekend it wasn’t good.

We discussed it further for a bit, but I knew. That had been the deal breaker. Maybe not a life long deal breaker. People can change. They can have different views about things. They mature and sometimes learn to forgive. They can even simply settle. But it looked like for now the whole reconciliation with Dave was off the table.

I called my friend Vicky who is the Wiccan and told her the crazy ritual I had performed, and what the outcome had been. Her response as a white witch was appropriate and hilarious. “Do not ever do that again! You don’t know what dark forces you’re fucking with! Why didn’t you consult me first!?”

Did it work? I’m not going to question any of it. If it got Michelle to be with me, it was the best $40 I had ever spent. So technically some thing worked. Maybe it was all simply in the timing. Like Shakespeare’s Hamlet says to Horatio: “There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

Oh, and that little magic pink stone that I rubbed for luck 9 years ago?

I was just looking at it this morning in the little wooden box on my desk.

 

 

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

Listen to Phicklephilly LIVE on Spotify!

Facebook: phicklephilly       Instagram: @phicklephilly       Twitter: @phicklephilly