Kimberly – Davio’s Dinner Date

I found Kimberly on OKCupid. She was hot, her essays were smart, and I laughed about half a dozen times reading her profile, whereas most profiles I read barely made me smile. According to the site, she responded to messages often (which surprised me), and I messaged her.

After not hearing back from her for two and a half weeks, I had almost forgotten about her when one morning, she emailed me a note:

“Can you meet me at Davio’s? Tonight at 8? Come alone?”

That night was a Monday. I didn’t have anything going on, but the brevity of her message was simultaneously intriguing, and mysterious. That latter word bears repetition. “Come alone?” As opposed to bringing my friend’s kindergarten class (my friend is a kindergarten teacher who stormed out of her last birthday party, held at a restaurant packed with family and friends, when she didn’t receive the magazine subscription that she wanted. Like a kindergartener with progeria.).

I arrived alone at Davio’s, a decent Italian place in Rittenhouse at 7:30. I was early because I just had a weird impression from her message. Maybe she was just being quirky and fun, as lots of girls were wont to be after Mayim Bialik turned “weird eccentric loner” into “quirky and fun.”

Speaking of, Kimberly arrived 7:50, dressed up like a Gothic French maid. She sported a short skirt with black and white striped leggings, and a lacy black trim around most of her outfit. Fun and quirky.

The first words out of her mouth were, “Are you alone?”

I looked around to confirm that I was, then said, “Yes. You?”

She said, “I picked this place because they have candlelight.”

She asked the host to seat us in a corner of the restaurant. “Away from windows,” she instructed. Perhaps she was afraid of electric lights. And drafts. And thinking straight.

We were soon at our corner, candlelit table. Then, she said, “Okay” about 50 times, as if preparing to tell me the meaning of life, who really shot JFK, or that she was pregnant with a chicken.

She said, “Have you heard of Amway?”

It’s a shame, as I was really hoping for the JFK thing. I said, “Yes.”

She blurted, “Nothing could be further from the truth! It’s a legitimate corporation with over 500–no, 50 years ago, Rich DeVos and Jay… something… urgh, okay, sorry, okay, okay, I’m doing this wrong, okay…”

I said, “Why don’t you take a deep breath and start at the beginning? Minus anything about Amway.”

“People have bad impressions about it, but nothing could be further from the truth! It’s a legitimate corporation with over 50 years of experience building businesses and lifelong relationships from the ground up.”

“Not interested.”

“Okay. Okay. You just need the desire to succeed. It was founded 50 years ago by Rich DeVos and Jay, it’s a legitimate–”

“I’m not interested. Can we talk about something else?”

“I don’t want to.” She looked up, as if straining for the right words. She had seemingly practiced her sales pitch, assuming that the person to whom she’d be pitching would be extremely interested and therefore not really need much of a sales pitch to begin with.

I threw in my best shot. “You look really good.” And she did. That’s the unfortunate part of it all. She looked great, and her profile was humorous and articulate. What happened?

“Nothing could be further from the truth…” she said, but to herself, like she was trying really hard to remember what came next.

The waiter came by for our drink orders. I opted for a Jack and Coke (that kind of night) and she ordered water. I tried over and over to talk about something other than her ludicrous sales pitch, and finally, I seemed to engage her on the topic of what it was like to be a high school music teacher (which is what she was).

The waiter delivered our drinks and took our food orders. Kimberly talked about the challenges she faced and the shows she wanted to direct. It was refreshing, and I can honestly say that that was the best part of the date. I really enjoyed myself.

When I followed up something she said with, “Isn’t Rent a little tough to do, in a high school setting?”

She replied, “Have you given any more thought to it?”

“To what? Rent? It’s a good show. Not my favorite.”

“Amway.”

“There’s a show about Amway? That sucks.”

“Okay. Founded in 1959, over 50 years ago, by Rich DeVos, it’s a legitimate–”

“Kimberly!” I snapped.

That stopped her, but her lips quivered, like she was bursting to go on. I said, “Mention it again, and I’m moving to a separate table, to eat my dinner alone. And I really, really mean it.”

She couldn’t help herself. “Lots of people think it’s, they have common bad impressions about it, but–”

I stood up from the table, likely more dramatically than was necessary. I found our waiter, briefly explained that things weren’t working out on my date, and asked him if he’d be cool with splitting the check to two different tables. He was gracious enough to help me out on that. I picked a table out of Kimberly’s view, and ate my dinner in peace. I didn’t see her leave, but I didn’t look for her. When I left, I didn’t check to see if she was still there or not.

Crazy!

 

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1967 Pontiac GTO – Today

“Paint job’s ok, but there’s rust, and the chrome is nowhere near what it once was. No way. Pieces fall away every year, now more than ever. But the car still runs, and when I drop the clutch and go, the car sings a symphony better than any new hybrid I’ve ever met in the last 10 years.”

“Write drunk and edit sober.”Ernest Hemingway

I feel like I’m midnight blue ’67 Pontiac GTO All original parts, some missing.

The car looks decent despite it’s age.

The engine and spirit of the car are great and it can still get up and roar against any new car off the lot, but its an old machine.

It’s falling apart but “the Goat” is still very valuable and has a lot of great history and memories in it. The upholstery is fraying. There’s a bit of rust. The struts are going’ the transmissions fucked.

The oil sometimes leaks.

The car is old.

The car is slowly falling apart.

I feel it.

But as a machine it’s still a badass ’67 GTO.

People love it. Girls love it, but if they looked under the hood they’d see that the beast is starting to fail.

It looks like a worn car form 40 years ago but it still runs great on the track based on its current performance, but inside it’s going.

It’s just time and gravity.

The power plant can somehow burn it up like when it was born but in the day-to-day, if you spend any time with the car you’ll learn that it’s seen a lot of miles and is now missing some parts. There has been no restoration. It still runs but with fewer parts than when it arrived off the assembly line.

The car was driven hard and saw some glory days and won a lot of races, but it lost a lot too, and suffers the scars of going through the guard rail and flipping over.

There’s been a little restoration on the mind of the car and that’s what held it together all these years but its had some really shitty owners and drivers that took this lovely car and ran it into the ground.

But it still runs.

The engine still has a lot of get up and go because that’s what it was built for. But it will probably get harder (or softer) every year because the car isn’t getting any younger.

Paint job’s ok, but there’s rust, and the chrome is nowhere near what it once was. No way. Pieces fall away every year, now more than ever. But the car still runs, and when I drop the clutch and go, the car sings a symphony better than any new hybrid I’ve ever met in the last 10 years.

So the old horse still has it. Because that was a well-built car in the 60’s, by people who knew how to make a good product, not by their design, just the vehicle that came through them from their ancestors. I like them better. The assembly line technicians that raised me sort of hated working with each other but they put out some good cars. I have three sisters to prove it. We have a solid line.

But this old classic is losing some of its shine, and I can fix that, if I can just get the things going now that I want to now. If new business takes off, the GTO will sing like it did in the sixties, but in today’s world. Better than ever. An old muscle car that can outrun the fastest production car you have coming off the line straight out of college.

Maybe like every guy my age I’m clinging to my youth, but I know I’m not. I like being the age I am. I don’t want to be the fool I once was. There is a whole world ahead of me and for us all, gentlemen. It doesn’t have to be us drowning in our past and drinking the poison hoping all of the people who broke our hearts die. That’s bullshit. you can’t evolve through that. You have to forgive and evolve beyond that. My father once said, “every man dies, not every man lives.” I live by that shit, man.

Forgive everyone. Don’t drink the poison, let go of the bars of your prison and walk the fuck out, gentleman. Doesn’t matter what direction… just take a step.

We’re a bunch of old cars trying to navigate the traffic of today’s world and love again. There are a lot of crazy old cars out there and even more wacky new models, but I believe there are some classics out there still on the road, that would love to pull up along side you and maybe meet up at the drive through for a movie and a milkshake.

Keep driving. She’s out there looking for your too.

 

 

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Keila – Fleas, Ticks and a Series of Bad Decisions

I told Alice not to hire Keila. I just didn’t feel that she had the discipline, experience, skill set and focus to do the job at Alice’s recruiting firm.

I’ve decided to stop writing about Alice and Keila. Alice is a dear friend, but we don’t do anything interesting enough to write about. Hopefully, this will be the last time I write about Keila.

I told Alice not to hire Keila. I just didn’t feel that she had the discipline, experience, skill set and focus to do the job at Alice’s recruiting firm. She lasted about two years there. Alice felt that she would be a good match, because she was a fearless networker and had no problem meeting new people.

But Keila has severe ADD. It’s really annoying to the rest of us who can calmly focus.

I’ve decided to cut her off, because of what she’s done to Alice. My loyalty is to Alice, and I don’t even really see Keila anymore.

Then I realized something. Some of the worst women I have ever met in this city all came through Keila. Birds of a feather flock together. Keila is like this big poodle that’s crawling with fleas and ticks. Because that’s what some these people are. Here’s the list:

Carol (See: Carol – 2014 to 2016 – There’s No Fun in Dysfunction) Crazy wacko who lives with her crazy mother and can’t keep a man or a job. Mess!

Harper (See: Harper – 2014 to 2015 – Plane Crash) Just a straight up lying, fraud and a whore who uses people. Awful!

Bibi (See: Bibi – 2015 – Matinee Madness) Rude, alcoholic loser who can’t keep a job or stay out of rehab.

Brooke (See: Brooke – 2015 to Present – Legs for Days) Okay this one came through Keila but I like her. She doesn’t see Keila anymore.

And many more whack job people along the way.

I’ve cut off all of these people (Except Brooke) and what I’ve needed to do all along was to cut off the head of this two legged dragon. So that’s what I’ve done. I’m done with Keila. She has these networking events and all of these desperate women and nutjobs go to thesee events. She always introduces them as “her new frends” but they’re not her friends. They’re normally desperate souls that attach themselves to her temporarily but after she gets what she wants from them she’s on to the next shiny object that’s her current distraction.

So after what Keila pulled on my friend Alice, I’m done with this one.

There’s some other people I need to slowly faze out as well. There not as godawful as Harper and Carol, but it’s time to start thinning the heard.

Live and learn baby. Step over the detritus in your life and move on.

Stay tuned!

 

 

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The date of the century!! Oh, actually half a century, I’m only 50! — Sensuality, Sex & Something else

Finally, it is time for the date! throughout the day it seemed like it would never get here but at other times it felt like I was on fast forward and it was getting here too fast. I am a complete and total mess of nerves, sexual tension, apprehension, excitement…You name it and I am pretty fucking sure I […]

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Tales of Rock – Sid Vicious Charged With Murder

It was concluded that Vicious’ knife, which had gone missing along with Spungen’s money, was the murder weapon.

In the annals of rock musicians fucking up, few entries are more extreme than stabbing your girlfriend to death and claiming not to remember doing it later. In October 1978, bassist Sid Vicious—deep into heroin addiction; his band Sex Pistols having broken up earlier that year—woke up in his room at the Hotel Chelsea in New York to find his girlfriend Nancy Spungen (Philly girl) dead in the bathroom with a wound in her abdomen. It was concluded that Vicious’ knife, which had gone missing along with Spungen’s money, was the murder weapon.

Vicious was charged with murder and gave conflicting accounts of what had happened; he said he hadn’t stabbed Spungen, then that he couldn’t remember anything and then that they were fighting and she fell on the knife. He was arrested and charged with murder but not kept in custody and attempted suicide later that month. In December 1978 he got in a fight at a rock show and was arrested and jailed; bailed out in February 1979. The following day, he died of an overdose of heroin at a dinner party. He was cremated and his mother surreptitiously spread his remains over Spungen’s grave.

 

 

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Stopping the Insanity of Dating — unfiltered from the heart

At a young age, I fell in love with the concept of love. I believed that to be in love with a man meant that all of my problems would go away. The knight in shining armor was a frequent fantasy of mine, though, he was rarely wearing armor in my mind. Ironically, it turns […]

via Stopping the Insanity of Dating — unfiltered from the heart

Azina – 2016 – International Phone Girl

The exchange rate of the USD to their pesos is huge. $60 of our dollars is like $300 of their dollars. I could live like a king down there. But who am I kidding? I don’t even like leaving my neighborhood.

This is a little bit of an odd story. A year or so ago I started chatting with this girl on Facebook Messenger. I think it just started with her saying hello to me. I was bored and alone and started chatting with her.

She lives in the Philippines. She’s attractive and was around 27 years old at the time. (This is one of the few times I’ve used the person’s actual photos)

I’ve chatted with women in different countries on Facebook over the years. No big deal. No mail order bride stuff, just talking to people and finding out about their lives and their culture.

I once chatted with a girl in Brazil for over a year or two. Beautiful lady. I’d write about her, but it was years ago, and let’s face it. It’s just like having a pen pal that you’re never going to meet so what’s the point?

Anyway I was chatting with Azina for a while and after a couple of weeks she starts telling me personal things.

Like how she hasn’t had sex in over 5 years and she wants to see me on FaceTime and she wants us to be together, etc. I know that’s not happening. Although the exchange rate of the USD to their pesos is huge. $60 of our dollars is like $300 of their dollars. I could live like a king down there. But do I really want to even leave Rittenhouse and go to Old City here in Philly? Not really. So I can’t see myself flying to the Philippines for anybody. Especially a stranger I’ve never met.

Apparently you can call people and do FaceTime through Facebook messenger. Because one night I’m in bed and my phone rings and it’s not my normal ringtone (It’s So Easy , by Guns n’ Roses is my ringtone.) This ring is just like a regular phone ringing. I was still awake so I look at it and it’s Azina!

So I answer it and I can see her. She doesn’t say much but I’m just stunned I’m doing FaceTime with another person halfway across the planet. The technology these days!

But then she does something I didn’t expect. She takes her shirt off. She’s pretty busty and I was shocked.

I haven’t requested or promised her anything. I think this lady took a liking to me and was just horny. Plus, I think she felt safe in this relationship. She can see me and I can see her and we can do things but nobody is touching anybody.

I’ve said this before: This is a dating blog, not a sex blog. So things were done and she’s sent me photos, and let’s just say I’ve seen EVERYTHING there is to see about sweet Azina.

Again, I never asked her to do any of these things, but it was pretty hot. We had some sexy sessions there for a month or so and then she just faded away. The texting got less and the calls became less frequent.

Hopefully she’s found love on her own little island. I guess we’re all sort of on our own little islands.

Check her out. There’s some pics of her below.

Cute, right?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Thanksgiving Tradition

The lady at the counter says, “I hope you’re not eating that for Thanksgiving!” I coolly replied, “Oh, no. My daughter loves these things. I always keep them in for her.” (a bold-faced lie)

My family has always celebrated Thanksgiving, but Christmas was always our big holiday. I’m always welcome at my older sister Janice’s house every year. She has a big house and we refer to her place as Holiday Headquarters. There was one year many years ago when I was invited to go to my other sister Gabrielle’s house all the way down in North Wildwood, New Jersey. Back then I was newly divorced, and I just didn’t feel like making the drive all the way down there. My daughter was little then and with her Mom and that side of the family for Thanksgiving. I was just happy that my ex-wife was out of the house and out of my life for that matter. I was looking forward to a day of listening to music, watching movies and eating and drinking. I like to be alone. I’m a very social animal, and I get my energy from those around me, but I just wanted a day of sweet nothing and solitude.

I lived in Woodbury, NJ back then. I drove over to the local convenient store and picked up a box of frozen Ellio’s Pizza. It’s a cheap and tasty treat I have loved since I was a lad. The lady at the counter says, “I hope you’re not eating that for Thanksgiving!” I coolly replied, “Oh, no. My daughter loves these things. I always keep them in for her.” (a bold-faced lie)

That night I happily sat on my sofa watching some cool movies, drinking Ketel One vodka and tonics, and eating my delicious Ellio’s Pizza. I had a nice, quiet Thanksgiving. I was grateful to have a family that cared about me and most of all that little Lorelei was in the world.

So I joked around with my sisters about that day, and of course they felt bad for me. They didn’t want me eating frozen pizza and drinking liquor by myself on Thanksgiving, but that’s what I really wanted to do that day. So it’s sort of become a family joke every year for Thanksgiving. It came up again this year, when I declined my sister’s invitation. It’s not that I didn’t want to see her, but I’ve seen her a lot lately, and my parents have passed, so what’s the point? Once the main anchors of a family die, usually the children retreat to their own little families. She understood and we’ll all get together at her annual holiday party in December at Holiday Headquarters.

I went to the Midtown Diner and had a huge breakfast at the counter. Scrambled eggs, bacon and french toast. It’s too much food, but I crushed it all and it was delicious. I went back to my house and did some writing. Lorelei escaped the clutches of having to spend Thanksgiving with her mother. She went to her boyfriend’s mother’s house. She’s a hard-core vegan and made some really creative dishes. I’m glad she’s happy and I’m sure they were glad to have her there for the holiday.

I finished a chapter, and wanted to get something to eat around 4:30. I left the house and walked down to South street. Everything was closed, but I didn’t feel like going into Walgreens where I’d have to get something to heat up or bake in the oven. Then I looked to the left and remembered there was a new 7-Eleven a block away.

I stopped in and was surprised at all of the people in there buying stuff. Maybe I could start a little Thanksgiving club with them. They could come over with a load of 7-Eleven food and I’d supply the booze. I picked up some things and headed back to the house.

The city was deserted. Dark and eerily quiet because everybody was off doing their family things. I got home, went to my desk and fired up an old episode of Columbo on Netflix. I poured myself a vodka and club soda. I don’t drink Ketel One anymore at home. Too expensive. I only have it out now in a martini, straight up with a twist. My current brand is Platinum X7 by Sazerac. A 1.75 bottle is $20. My favorite thing to mix it with is Polar club soda with lemon that I buy by the liter at Walgreens. I tore open the small bag of Lay’s potato chips. Then opened the box that contained the quarter pound 7-Eleven hot dog, and spread mustard along its length.

Changed it up this year! Wanted to send a pic to all of my sisters but decided against it.

A man who can sit in a room alone and be satisfied is a man that has found inner peace.” – My Dad

 

 

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Harper – Part 2 – Plane Explodes. No Survivors

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

South Street

I once hung out with her on South Street. She bought little Indian finger bells to clear the aura or feng shui of a room she was working on. Then she bought a chair and had me carry it on my head across town back to her apartment. It really was the easiest way to transport it, but I looked like a wicker turtle walking around with that on my head. When I got to her place she gave me a glass of scotch. Then she asked me to turn a big rug in the living room. What am I, the hired hand?

She lived with two or three other people in this house in a crappy neighborhood. She said she used to have sex with her one roommate, but then he got a girlfriend and stopped banging her. So now she says she has to listen to them have sex in the next bedroom. She doesn’t like that. I think it’s funny that she thinks it’s ok to shit where you eat. We had a cig and then she took me up to her room.

For an “interior designer’ it was a bit messy. Her underwear on the floor and what not. She showed me that the room was broken into four “stations” and each one had different magic stones or crystals on the furniture in that space. It was supposed to give off different energies. Yea, just crazy shit. But I will tell you this… Crazy is only good in one room of the house and it’s not the kitchen. At least I got to take that kind of her crazy for a test drive that afternoon.

Seaport Museum

I was invited to an event at the Seaport Museum. I was with Harper on South Street. We were at a bar called Tattooed Mom’s. There was going to be tons of free food and booze at the event. It was if she wanted to get a few drinks into her before she went. Maybe she has social anxiety. But then she tells me she rode her bike to South Street. WTF? So I have to call an UBER, but one that is an SUV, because we have to pack her bike in the back of it. Then drive to her house. Then she has to get changed, so we can then get to the event. I was aggravated and pissed, but I still liked her.

So we finally get to The Seaport Museum. We’re late and you know how much I hate lateness. I get a drink and as I literally walk outside to smoke a cigarette, these dudes bum smokes from me. But before I can lie and say I left them inside, fucking Harper says, sure! Then looks at me for the cigs. I fucking hate that. I’m taking it on the chin for $10 a pack now. That shit isn’t cheap. These guys are around her age and she immediately starts chatting them up like I’m not even there. You treat her really well and she just goes and starts flirting with other guys. She’s awful.

I go inside to get away from these turds and to get another refill because I need it. I run into my pal Johnny R. and I’m happy to see him. He can see I’m stressed about getting down here and her behavior. We get some drinks and chat a bit. He’s with his girlfriend and another couple so he has to hang back with them. I run into another friend and he can see I’m stressed but the booze is helping like always. Knocking the edge right off.

I see another girl who is equally nuts that I know, and I just avoid her and get back to Harper. (See: Kylie – 2014 to 2015 – Broken Wing) She’s done chatting with the smoke bums and gives them her business cards. I know they’re just going to call her to try to bang her. But I can’t worry about that. I think I had such a good buzz on that night I almost bought her a painting she liked. I was not thinking clearly back then.

I once took her to Matyson (One of my favorite restaurants that sadly isn’t around anymore) and she acted like a drunk asshole. Spilling champagne, etc.

Horrible Night

One night we went to a nice wine bar called Tria near Washington Square. I knew the waiter so I got the hookup. She was somewhat well-behaved there but it seems the more she drinks, the crazier she becomes.

After that we went to Indeblue in mid-town. It’s a cool Indian bar. All I remember was her putting stupid cocktail napkins on her head and having me take her picture with the bartender, Awful. Then she wants to stop for one more drink at Fergie’s pub. We go in there and she makes everybody at the bar move down so we can sit down. She proceeds to make fun of the bartender, saying how she thinks he’s mentally dim-witted. She starts chatting with some older dude on the other side of her and then said she was leaving. She asked if I was going to leave as well, and I told her I was staying. She left and I was already chatting with a pretty black girl to my right.

Once she came over to do tarot cards with me and started rearranging the furniture in my house. Oh, and drank non-stop. Insane! Who does shit like that?

I heard from a good friend of mine that on one of her interior design gigs, she rolled a chair into a closet and onto a $5,000 wedding dress. That was after she just dropped her keys onto the client’s Steinway piano when she came in. She didn’t get the job.

I can’t talk about this idiot anymore. It’s making me angry just writing about this lunatic.

This could all be chalked up to a few things. Mental illness mixed with alcohol and drugs.

 

 

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Paraphernalia & pre date preparation! — Sensuality, Sex & Something else

 

It’s Sunday morning and I am really going to do this, I am actually going to go on my first ever date in the hopes that if the first two dates go well I will be having sex at the conclusion of the 3rd date. If we have a date on Sunday and again on Monday I […]

via Paraphernalia & pre date preparation! — Sensuality, Sex & Something else

 

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