Wildwood Daze – Summer of 1979 – Lola – Part 3

We finally rose from the sea and went back to our blanket to dry out and get some sun. There was more hot kissing and touching on the blanket. God…Lola was beautiful and perfect.

I had the Polaroid so I took some photos that day. Here is the actual photos from that day in August 1979 with the girl I fell in love with at the end of the summer of ’79.

Isn’t she beautiful?  Great smile and look at those lovely legs. I adored her!

Here’s another one that is very damaged because I carried it around in my wallet for a year. Polaroid doesn’t hold up like Kodak photos. But despite the damage it still captures the joy of this lovely girl and her smile! (And those sweet legs!)

I fell in love with Lola that day.

No… I fell in love with her at Botto’s Arcade yesterday.

Today just solidified it.

She’s sharp, beautiful…and I am smitten. Lola was soooo cute!

It was a beautiful day and one I would never forget. I remember her rising from the ocean that day as we walked back to the warmth of the blanket I had laid for us that day. We were giggling and talking about some drama she was having with her friend that was coming down for Labor Day.

Not every man has this moment but I have had it on both coast of this great country.

Lola is soaked. Her brown one piece clings to her supple, ample body. She looks more beautiful to me than any time I ever saw her in the arcade. I didn’t even know her. Just another teenage girl in a pair of jeans shooting pool. But here she was rising from the ocean beside me like a Bond girl. Her suit clung to her body. It was getting late, the beach was cooling, her ripe breasts are glistening and her nipples pout through the fabric of her suit. Her suit clung to her sex and though it I could see the impression her plump vulva framed by a trim bush of curls between her legs.

I loved the 1970’s. Women looked like women back then.

She walked ahead of me because she was a little chilly and went for her towel. Her buttocks were perfect caramel moons that crept from the bottom of her suit.

Lola was an exquisite beauty that was now in my life.

The warmth of lying on a warm blanket with a beautiful girl. No preparation. Just two people together. Two teenagers just kissing. I loved kissing Lola. All of our kisses were perfect.

When have you ever been able to say that about anyone?

I have only been able to say that one more time in my life.

I’m french kissing Lola and it’s feels so good. I love this girl. This has to be right because I’ve had no anxiety or fear. I kiss her deeply and run my hand down her full supple thigh. God she’s beautiful. I think this could be something. Even if she has to go home, I’m hooked.

I never want to stop kissing her, but she has to go to work. It’s so hard to let her go. Lola’s thighs are wet and salty from the ocean and I kiss and lick the salty sea from her legs. She giggles… She is the most delicious, sweetest thing. This could somehow work.

I don’t even know at this age how but desire is the only thing driving my mind right now.

We had the honor of spending a few lovely hours together that day.

Lola had to go to her waitress job so she had to bolt.

I hate to realize my love is giving me sustained stiffness in my lower regions.

“Okay… I’ll walk you back.”

We gather our stuff and I walk her off the beach at dusk. It’s always a magical time at the beach that not everybody gets to experience. Once the sun goes down to a disc the color and size of a new penny in the west, the sand cools.

You’ve conquered the day in Wildwood.

You’ve swam, you’ve sunned. You’ve flirted with all of the life guards and you’re done.

The day is all the way done for the beach. The sand feels so good when it cools. You’ve won, you spent the afternoon at the beach. It’s glorious. You’ve seen it all and everyday is a new adventure and a new possibility.  Worst case scenario is you got a killer tan to look great in the club that night.

I walked Lola back to her house and said our goodbyes. She quickly looks around and kisses me. That was a beautiful moment.

I want to see her again as soon as I can.

 

 

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Wildwood Daze – Summer of 1979 – Lola – Part 2

I chatted with my mom at lunch. Had some Ellio’s pizza. Ellio’s is the first pizza I ever tasted. I was a very picky eater since I was a child. I didn’t even try pizza until I was 12 or 13. But Ellio’s was a frozen pizza you could buy in the store. It came in a box with three frozen slabs (three rectangles each. Nine slices.) I could normally crush a single slab at 17. I didn’t like trying new things but I was introduced to ‘pizza flavor’ through Pepperidge Farms ‘pizza flavored’ goldfish crackers.

As my taste buds matured during puberty, pizza flavor seemed amazing. So I tried Ellio’s frozen pizza and immediately loved it. It’s total shit now, but back then it was actually really good. (See: Thanksgiving Ritual)

But Sam’s Pizza at 26th and the Boardwalk was still the God of Pizza in Wildwood. There is no other slice that can compete. Fuck Mack’s Pizza.

I felt calm. That was always a welcoming feeling because most of the time I was nervous and fearful in general. I told my mom I was headed to the beach for a bit. Life was so simple and beautiful back then. I wish I could have enjoyed it more.

But as I write this now, I think I did.

I was off today, and it was another perfect day in North Wildwood by the Sea. Sunny and a good beach day.

I grabbed my cigs, lighter, big blanket, a towel and a beach chair. I stuffed it all into the chair so I only had one thing to carry. Cigs were in the waistband of my bathing trunks and matches/lighter were either in the pack or tucked into the cellophane that encased the box. I’m wearing my Aerosmith T-shirt for no other reason but that I love that band with all of my heart.

I also brought my Polaroid One Shot Camera with me. (Google it kids!)

I walk over to 9th street towards Lola’s house.

Lola’s already sitting on the porch and ready to go. I like that. She looks sweet. She’s wearing a long T-shirt so it covers her like a shitty cotton mumu. I don’t care. I’m just happy she’s here.

“I see you’re ready to go.”

“Been waiting for hours. Where’ve you been?” She giggles and grabs her towel off the chair next to her and we’re off to the beach.

It’s not terribly hot and we chat as we make our way through the trail that leads to the open beach.

It’s a lovely August afternoon. Maybe one of the last great days of summer. The beach is filled with people and the smell of coppertone and solarcaine. I can hear the phillies game on several radios around me so it feels like some sort of beach stereo experience.

The extremely tanned ice cream man is making his way down the beach. He’s dressed all in white. His hair tawny from the summer sun. His legs are strong from marching up and down the beach for two months selling fudgicles, orange creamcicles and cherry ice. He carries on his back a small ice box loaded with treats and dry ice.

He calls out to anyone that’ll listen or the thirsty child that he has a box of treats for them.

“Ice cream!      Cherry Ice!       Fudgicle!”

The single propeller planes roll by in the sky over the Atlantic Ocean pulling long signs behind them that your best bet for dinner tonight is at Urie’s Fish Fry at 588 West Rio Grande Avenue.

Mom’s are putting lotion on their kids. Dads are laughing and talking about sports. Families are together and enjoying the summer sun. Happy to be away from the heat of the city. It’s always cooler at the shore and nice to escape the oppressive humidity of the heat in Philly.

Teens play frisbee and splash each other in the water. It’s a perfect day in the paradise I have been blessed to live in thanks to my father’s strategic moves to bring THE QUINTESSENTIAL SUMMER EXPERIENCE he had but sort of never had.

In this moment at age seventeen, I’m Wildwood royalty and I don’t even know it. I’ve lived in a house a block and a half from the beach in North Wildwood every summer for the last decade. All thanks to my father. I know sometimes I talk shit on my dad in this blog, but the guy was fucking magic whan it came to summer and christmas. (Not in that order!)

So here I am with Lola. Like everybody, we stake out our little piece of real estate on the beach and spread out my course blue blanket. I liked it because it could house several people and sand couldn’t penetrate the material. That’s key at the beach. Sand is your enemy. Chafing. Grit. Irritation. And other things…..

But sand is soft. It can get so hot that you will have to run to the beach and literally throw your towel ahead of you so you have a place to stand to rest. (We used to do this all of the time!)

But today the sand is soft under our feet. It’s warm and yields to our every step.

We lay out the big blue blanket and place it down like every other person on this beach. I drop my cigs and lighter and open the beach chair. I brought it because it holds all of my stuff in it and maybe Lola wants to chill in a chair and not be forced to sit on a blanket the whole time. I don’t know, so I just went with as many options as possible for her because this is all new territory.

She’s happy to sit on the blanket and I drop it in the chair. We’re chatting and I think we’re both starting to feel the August heat. Not in a sexual way that I know of, It’s just a really hot day.

“Wanna go in the ocean?”

“I think I need it at this point, Chaz.”

Lola takes off her big T-shirt. She’s wearing a brown one piece. The cool thing I realize in this moment is being at the beach with girls is that you get to see them strip down to basically underwear and it’s totally cool. It’s the only time in your young life that you get to see girls basically go down to a bra and panties right in front of a boy and it’s totally normal. But unknown to them in that moment it’s an explosively erotic experience.

This has happened to me over and over on this very beach. But it never comes to a fiery light until you hit puberty.

Everybody’s always stripping off their clothes on a regular basis everyday on the beach. It’s just what you all do to get some sun and go swimming.

But you reach a certain age and everything changes.

Anne pulls off her T-Shirt.

She’s beautiful in the late summer sun.

I look upon her. Lovely face, dark hair and warm brown eyes.

She’s wearing a brown one piece. It’s cut low in the front that showcases her ample breasts. There’s no back in this suit. It’s cut high on her thighs. Her legs, even though she’s short, are shapely and full in all of the right places. She’s absolutely gorgeous.

Her brown skin, tanned from the season glows in the late August sun. Like me she’s a little sad she’ll soon have to go back to Newark, NJ.

But I have this moment. I have today on this beach.

This is the sandy stage where I may have a sweet moment with this lovely girl who came to me in my favorite arcade.

“Let’s go in the water.”

“Yea. It’s hot.”

I walk to the edge of the sea with this new girl. She seems so nice and I feel no anxiety.

We jump into the waves. I love the force of the ocean even though I don’t like heights or deep water. But it feels nice with Lola.

The beach is full of tourists, but as we sink into the warm ocean, it’s just the two of us in this moment.

We’re swimming around and it feels so good. Anne is really sweet and we’re laughing and joking with each other. She looks beautiful.

She swims over to me and puts her arms around me. She’s lovely and wet. Her hair a tangle of curls. Her dark eyes sparkle in the late afternoon light. She glides into my lap. I cradle her. We’re in the ocean so she’s just sort of floating in my lap. She’s so close. I’m holding her in my arms now. I run my hands along her soft smooth thighs.

We kiss.

Lola’s lips her plump and salty. But so sweet against mine.

Our tongues swirl together.

She was like a luscious mermaid. I kissed her deeply as the waves washed around us as young lovers. Lola’s breasts are overwhelming and they are all around me as a teenage boy. It’s too much but just right in a three bears kind of way. It’s really nice to gently hold her.

It was one of the perfect moments in my life.

I’ve had many, but this was one of the first ones and they mean so much. They mark you so deeply.

We just floated in the sea kissing and cuddling and caressing. It was almost spiritual.

I fell in love with sweet Lola in that moment.

In 4 hours I’ll publish Part 3!

 

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Kelsey – The One Hour Nightmare – Part 2

The dam holding back her emotions finally burst and she began crying, turning her eye makeup into dark rivers of grief.

When we last left our hero yesterday, he was only 15 minutes into this nightmare. Let’s see how the rest of it plays out!

7:23 PM – Our food arrives with the hope that my dining companion might be too preoccupied with her salad to continue to speak. My hope is quickly destroyed. She began talking about her last job and why she was fired from it. According to her, she was working as an office temp when there was some type of altercation between herself and her manager. The reason that she was let go was because “He was too much of a sissy to fight like a man”. I still have no idea what that meant and I often times find myself lying awake at night pondering what exactly happened.

I tried to change the subject by discussing films. Did she have a favorite film? If so, what was it? As it turns out she was a fan of the cinema. Her current favorite movie? Oliver Stone’s “Natural Born Killers”. I also enjoyed the film but for reasons quite different from hers. Instead of citing Stone’s use of blunt violence, mixed media, different film stock and the sometimes shocking juxtaposition of the horrors of American suburban life with the colorful, media-happy world of the 1990’s, her reason was because “Mallory Knox is fucking HAWT!” She then went on to quotes EVERY SINGLE LINE of dialog uttered by Juliet Lewis in the film.

7:26 PM – “HOW SEXY AM I NOW, FUCKER?”, she screamed as she stood in her chair, one foot planted centimeters away from my empty plate. In order to calm things down I decided to switch the subject yet again. This time I decided to learn about her family. I offered that I had three sisters. She said that the only family she had was her mother, with whom she lived. She went in to detail about the fights she and her mother would have on a daily basis and how her mother didn’t understand the stress that she dealt with in everyday life. This, she explained, was why it was vital that she be able to continue her strict regimen of Prozac and Vodka. I could see the storm clouds gathering in her eyes as she went on.

“And my momma just don’t understand how tough it is! If she would just get a better job then maybe I wouldn’t have to collect unemployment! I mean, I have to remember to turn in that paperwork once a WEEK!”

The dam holding back her emotions finally burst and she began crying, turning her eye makeup into dark rivers of grief.

7:30 PM – The helpful and courteous waiter appeared at the table looking resplendent in his branded apron and shit-eating grin. “Can I get you two anything else?” he offered.

I leaned over and said, “Just the check please.” He looked at me, looked at the sobbing train wreck in the opposite chair, turned his head, looked me in the eye and said, “Hmmm, not yet.” and again vanished into the kitchen.

7:35 PM – After ruining two napkins, I was finally able to stop the flow of tears coming from my date. The waiter, realizing that his last stunt more than likely cost him a tip, returned with the check. I quickly gave him my card which he ran with haste. As I signed the tab, my date said, “So what are we doing now?” as if nothing had happened.

7:45 PM – As I pulled my car on to her street, she said “You’re not gonna call me back – I can tell.”

Not wanting to hurt her feelings (or risk having her go feral while still in my car) I said, “I just don’t think I’m the right guy for you.”

I decided not to enumerate the reasons for this decision, those being that I own no clothes designed by Ed Hardy, I had no illegitimate children, I was not training to be an MMA fighter and, despite being a huge fan of the show “Breaking Bad”, I had absolutely no idea how to cook meth.

When we pulled in to her driveway she began crying again. “Why is the date over? It’s not even 8:00 and I’m not even drunk yet!”

I exited the vehicle and opened the passenger side door. Partly because I’m a gentleman and partly to give her the hint that it was time to GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY CAR. She stood in front of me crying, her head in her hands. Not being a monster, I decided to give her a hug. As soon as I pulled her close to me she raised her head and SUNK HER TEETH INTO MY NECK. (You did not mis-read that) – The crazy girl FUCKING BIT ME. Thankfully, she did not break the skin. As soon as she released her grip she ran full-speed into her garage, screaming “FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING FAGGOT!”

As I got in my car my cell phone rang – it was my rescue call. I answered, staring off into space like Martin Sheen at the end of “Apocalypse Now”.

“Hey man, how’s your date going?”, asked my friend. The only thing I could mutter was, “The horror…the horror.”

Epilogue: My morning routine is fairly boring. Wake up, check my email, read the news while enjoying a cup of coffee, check my phone for messages – very pedestrian stuff. Every now and then, when I pick up my phone while pouring my coffee, I will find text messages sent between 1:00-5:00 AM from a number labelled “Do Not Answer”. Sometimes they’re nude pictures of splayed labia, sometimes they’re violent threats. Each time, I slowly reach up and rub the spot on my neck which has suddenly began throbbing…

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am &12pm EST.

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Kelsey – The One Hour Nightmare – Part 1

“The dam holding back her emotions finally burst and she began crying, turning her eye makeup into dark rivers of grief.”

A few years ago I agreed to a blind date. Numbers were exchanged, phone calls were made and she and I planned to have dinner that Friday evening. This is a timeline of said date.

Enjoy!

6:45 PM – I arrive at her house to pick her up. I know this seems odd for blind date protocol but she had requested that, rather than both of us meet at the restaurant, I pick her up because her car is not street legal. (What?) She walks out of her house dressed in a revealing top, short skirt and heels. Looks kinda hot and I’m a leg man so, all good.

The one thing that seemed odd was that she was wearing enough eye makeup to make the likes of RuPaul and Lady Gaga cringe. As she approached the car, I could smell the distinct aroma of vodka. When she hugged me hello I could tell that she had been pre-gaming this date BIG TIME. I opened the door for her, helped her into the car and away we went to share a magical evening together.

6:55 PM – We arrive at the sushi bar. I had suggested another restaurant for our date – a new locally owned restaurant that had received terrific reviews and was the talk of the town, but she declined the idea based on the fact that she had never heard of the place and that, for a first date, I should take her some place “nice”. The conversation in the car was standard getting-to-know-you stuff. She complimented me on my attire, she requested that music be changed from the alt-rock station to the hip-hop station because she didn’t “listen to that faggot shit” and she questioned whether or not I was a serial killer. Y’know, standard stuff.

7:00 PM – We are seated and given menus. She opens her menu and orders a bottle of Tokyo Rose (a combination of sake and plum wine). As the waiter is walking away, my date opens her menu and says, “Know what’s weird? I really like Jap food but I just can’t stand Japs!” I look up from my menu and search her face for any trace of sarcasm or irony. I also notice out of the corner of my eye that the waiter, upon hearing this, froze in place for a brief moment, shook his head as if he imagined the whole thing and then went about his business. She then continued on. “I also really don’t like…’and proceeded to list every single ethnic and racial slur that I had ever heard and a good number that I had not.’ The waiter returned with our drinks shortly thereafter.

7:06 PM – After placing our food orders (I ordered a tuna roll, she ordered a salad because the thought of eating raw fish make her sick) she asked me an odd question. “Are you hairy?” I cannot recall if anyone had ever asked me that before and was unsure as to how I should answer.

“I’m a grown man, so I do have body hair. I’m not Chewbacca but I don’t look like a 10-year-old boy either.”

Apparently this was an issue for her. “Well if we’re gonna fuck tonight then we need to wax that shit off because I don’t play that way!”

I had already decided before the date began that there was to be no fucking, so I was not too worried about being violently shorn that evening. Quick to change the subject, I decided to ask a question that might distract her vodka-and-saki soaked mind.

“So do you have any tattoos?”

Her eyes lit up and she nodded excitedly.

7:12 PM – My delicate flower of a date throws her leg on to the table, and shows me a tattoo that wraps around her ankle. It’s some generic-looking tribal pattern with a few kanji characters worked in to the design. She explains that the japanese script are actually the names of her future children, Dylan and Skyler. As she rotates her ankle to show off the design, she knocks the half-empty bottle of sake on to the floor.

7:16 PM – An amused waiter assists me with my attempt to soak up the spilled liquor from the carpet while my date reveals her second tattoo.

“My other tattoo is a tramp stamp”, she says, loud enough for everyone to hear, “but I don’t show that to everybody.”

Somehow, my brain thinks that it’s a good idea to ask why not. Her response? “Because it’s a big ol’ heart. I got it so that when you’re fucking me in the ass, you know that I love you!”

The waiter and I lock eyes as I attempt to develop the power of telepathy. I imagine our mental conversation went something like this:

Me: “Dude, you GOTTA help me out here. This chick’s a hot mess. Please just get us our food and bring me the check.”

Him: “Ha ha ha no way man! This is fucking hilarious! I’m gonna go tell everyone in the kitchen to laugh at your sorry ass!”

He promptly vanished in to the kitchen.

 

That all happened in just the first 15 minutes!

Tune in tomorrow for the next 45 minutes of terror on, “One Hour Nightmare!”

 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am & 12pm EST.

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Cherie – Chapter 34 – It’s All About The Journey – Part 2

“Cherie has come along and pulled me from a cold black river named Annabelle.”

I’ve never given up. I never will. I’ve been driven by my heart and passion my entire life, but those powers forever remain if your heart is open. I’ve always believed this. “Be true to thyself” my dad always said. I know he read that somewhere, but it’s a solid piece of advice.

I now know real love is achievable at this point in my life. It’s not the prettiest girl you can close, or the youngest girl, or anything like that. You can find it in a stranger and connect with her in a way that’s beyond the traditional structures you’ve been taught. Love is all around you.

Just keep going.

Learn from your mistakes. Be a better and more patient man. Mind your manners and always be giving and romantic. That never gets old.

She’s out there for you and I hope everyone reading this finds their him or her.

I’d love to hold onto this lady forever.

My Mother once said, ‘you never know, life is a dice roll’. She was probably talking about her marriage with my dad but that is a blog post for later.

But for now I will bask in the sunlight of this lovely relationship. She really seems perfect for me, but you never know. This is a dating blog. I started this journey dating women and striking out. Babe Ruth struck out all the time. But we know that story. Michael Jordan practiced non stop and did free throws and struggled for years.

But he kept at it.

Don’t give up. Keep your heart open. Too many people close their eyes and heart and become bitter.  Stay positive. Keep loving the little things in life your health and your family and all of the good things in your life.

An open heart is a new day. Every day is a new opportunity to meet someone. Don’t obsess about it.

If you meet someone be cautious but real.

“We always want that which retreats from us.” – The Tao of Steve

You can do it.

I could go down in flames in the next year and this could be over. I’ll have lost again for the fourth time in a row!

But you have to evolve and put yourself out there because you never know. Swipe right, be cautious and have fun. Don’t push to hard. You’ll know when you meet a good one.

The universe will unfold as it should for us all.

Don’t be bitter on your past relationships and don’t carry that crap around with you. Clear your mind. If you don’t it’s just you drinking the poison hoping the other person dies.

And that is a waste of time.

The cage you’re in right now is of your own making. Drop the bars and walk the fuck out and go meet somebody. It can be done. I’m living proof of that.

There are so many people out there that would LOVE to meet you. You’re not great, you’re just human. We are a social species, so go out there and make it happen.

Cherie has come along and pulled me from the cold black river named Annabelle.

(See: Annabelle – Guy walks into a bar – 2013 to 2014)

Falling in real love is like being in a raging sea and washing up on a warm sunny beach with a drink in your hand and a lovely girl next to you. She always assures you she loves you more than you love her. No one ever reveals that. Most don’t know where they stand in a relationship, but she does. She’s happy in her role. you can’t believe your fortune or the reveal. You have the power to squander or embrace.

You go in for the sweet hug.

I’d love to go on more about this but I have to go bang my girlfriend back to the Stone Age.

I’m so glad I installed air bags in the headboard of my bed.

 

Love you all for still following and not turning the hose on us.

 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am & 12 pm EST.

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