4 Signs Someone Is A Good Communicator That You Can Spot On The First Date

https://www.topbuzz.com/article/i6553335009481064970?c=sys&user_id=6463565774731609097&language=en®ion=us&app_id=1106&impr_id=6553373923692529929&gid=6553335009481064970

 

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Phicklephilly – Tinder Moments

Here’s another batch of interesting characters I found in the online dating community!

 

Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Another Life – Chapter 4

It wasn’t so bad, living at home while working full-time. I biked to the garage, or took the bus in bad weather. I was able to put some money aside, even after paying my stepmother’s rent. I didn’t do anything foolish, like buy a car, or a new stereo. The money I saved could be used to go to college next year. Uncle Ray gave me some good advice, too.

My ex-girlfriend, Anne, was showing signs that she might be interested in getting back together. I wasn’t so sure. I mean, she was the one who had broken it off … if we started dating again, how long would it be before she remembered why she had dumped me in the first place?

Besides, I was pursuing a few other options. No, not Sam. Meanwhile, Marty was still ‘courting’ Caroline, at his own glacial pace.

– “I think you need to see her more than once or twice a month, Marty.” I told him. “Have you even been out with her alone, yet?”

– “All in good time.” he said.

He dragged me out with him several more times to see the sisters. We ‘dropped in’ on them again, took in another movie, and – to my horror – an antique auction.

The next time we went over, it was to find that Sam had dyed her hair. Brown.

– “She thought it would make her look smarter!” howled Tanya. She was clutching her stomach, bent over double. “She said she didn’t want to be a dumb blonde anymore! Ah! I’ve been laughing for days – it’s killing me!”

– “I think it looks very nice.” insisted Caroline.

Sam had her arms crossed, but the expression on her face was easy to recognize. She was so vulnerable, at that moment – I could have slaughtered her with a word.

– “You look … so different.” I said. Sam bit her lip.”I never imagined you as a brunette.” I added. “You look good.”

The odd thing was … I couldn’t tell her the truth: somehow, she did look smarter. Maybe it was just because she looked so different from the blonde ditz I had become accustomed to. Or maybe it just highlighted how pretty her face was. Damn – I wasn’t going to say that.

Sam seemed happy enough with my answer.

A few weeks later, Marty persuaded me to invite the sisters to my cousin Ronnie’s Christmas bash. It was guaranteed to be loud, and fun. There would be plenty of opportunity for Marty to be alone with Caroline.

 

https://lapetitemort17.wordpress.com/?p=373

 

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Three Keys to the most unforgettable date

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

 

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Sheryl – The Past Revisted

“I wish I could find a guy I could trust to blindfold me, restrain me and have his way with me, but in a safe way.”)

So I reluctantly sent a text to Sheryl about how I’m writing a blog and she’s going to be in it.

(See: Sheryl – Not The Muse) to get the full history.

I wish this had gone better, because it could have been so much better!

I was torn with the decision to contact her due to the 20 year gap and the history there. But the blog won’t write itself and I did it.

She responded positively and really wanted to re-connect with me and meet up this time. I tried a year ago, and it went to shit because she bailed on the last-minute because she said her ex husband was going to jail and her son was upset.

Red Flag.

But it’s been a year and I wrote about it and figured why not, at least meet with her. She was the inspiration for a character in a book I wrote in the 90’s and she was fun to be with then.

We set it up and instead of me meeting with the 22-year-old girl I knew back in the day I am now meeting with the divorced 42-year-old mother of 2 in 2018.

No big deal. I’m divorced and Lorelei is with me at 22.

We set it up for a Sunday at 4:30pm.

I’m picking up a shift at the tanning salon from 11 to 4pm.

She has anxiety about travel but caught the PATCO line from Jersey and I tell her I’ll be there to meet her at the station at 16th and Locust.

I finish work and head to the stop. Some guy begs for change and I blow him off just like all of the grifters I can’t help in this city as I descend the steps into the final stop for PATCO.

 

I hear and feel the rush of hot air as the train rushes into the station. I stand in a spot where I’m easily seen from all exits.

 

People pour from the train and rise on the escalators and climb the steps to the sidewalk above.

I’m waiting.

I watch for her. Many people pass. A crowd of commuters roar past me and I stand there like a statue in the middle of the terminal.

Once the people are gone I remain thinking maybe she’s on the next train, but based on her texts she should have been on this one.

I walk down the hallway, and there is one woman standing there in a long dress looking at the city maps and frantically texting.

I walk down and look through the bars and speak.

“Sheryl?”

“Oh Hey! I didn’t know which way to go. I was just texting you.”

Sheryl is much older than I remember her. The youthful curvy blonde is gone. Here is a dyed red-haired middle-aged woman who has a considerable number of miles on her. This is not just age. This is bad experience and a collection of bad decisions. Decisions  that have been made over and over. Bad men, alcoholism, crime, abuse, poverty, children and bad lifestyle decisions.

We hug and it’s nice to see a ghost from my very distant past that isn’t dead.

 

We sit outside at Fado, a really great Irish bar at 15th and Locust. (The food and service is terrific!)

It’s all a little weird so I order a Manhattan to take the edge off. She goes with a Jack and Coke.

We catch up and I tell her everything that’s been going on in my life for the last 20 years and she does the same.

But I hear how bad it’s been for her. I know things were bad in her life when I met her 20 years ago, but it hasn’t stopped.

 

Her whole life has been poverty, baby mama drama, shitty family, alcoholism, abuse, kid problems, horrible men, and employment struggles.

It’s sad but true.

But it seems nothing’s changed in Sheryl’s life as she’s grown older.

But I will say this. Hanging with Sheryl, and drinking and smoking and reminiscing about the old times was really nice. We picked up like in was 1996.

 

But it’s 2019.

 

I’ve evolved beyond all of the trappings of all of my old life. So much has changed in my life. No more anxiety. No more depression. Love to work at my job. Love to be busy. Great friends and all is good with my family. Daughter is fine and happy. We live in Rittenhouse. We’re firing on all cylinders here at camp phicklephilly.

But when I listen to Sheryl, she still sound like she’s struggling with all of the trash from her past that sadly is still sitting front and center in her present life. Her whole life is in a stinking bag someone left at the curb.

As the drinks flowed, of course the conversation turned sexual.

Sheryl is still trapped in making bad decisions in regard to bed mates.

I know Sheryl very well and the things that will ignite her libido, but at her current age I have zero interest in approaching her.

During our meeting I could tell it was made clear to me she wanted me to meet her at some future date and perform a certain deed that would have fulfilled her desire.

“I wish I could find a guy I could trust to blindfold me, restrain me and have his way with me, but in a safe way.”)

I love the idea of what we discussed, but sadly, I’d rather act that play out with a much younger and prettier victim than this target.

(To be honest with all of you my faithful readers… I just want to live my life and have no interest in doing anything with anyone kinky anymore. That’s all behind me now.)

Here’s the worst part.

(Not really)

The first server comes out and tells me that her shift is ending and we can close out so she can transfer the check to the next girl.

Of course knowing the industry I want to cash her out and tip her.

Sheryl offers No Quarter.

No offer of cash or help with the tip.

 

Okay. No big deal. She took a train out of her bubble and came to Philly on a Sunday to meet with me.

But we continue on with another server and Sheryl wants food. She gets Salmon and I get chicken fingers.

The drinks are still flowing and she’s pounding Jack and Cokes.

 

Everything’s great, and it feels like the old days…. but it’s 2019 and so much has changed for me, but it seems like nothing’s changed for Sheryl.

If anything, it’s gotten worse for her. She’s great at her job at the bank and is very much-needed but it’s obvious why she never gets a raise or is promoted.

The corporation is ashamed at the way she looks.

Sad but True.

Sheryl is still driven by her sexual urges and that was the thing that drove us together 20 years ago, but for me I have grown past that in so many ways. Sadly, Sheryl’s life is still ruled by that nonsense.

I am light years beyond all of that, and I now look upon these meetings as only fuel for this blog and novelty.

But here’s the worst part for me.

It was nice to reconnect with my former friend, but after the second round of food and drinks, there was no effort on the part of Sheryl to kick in for the bill.

 

All of the best people in my life at least offer.

 

I have friends where I’m actually surprised when they even try. I love them dearly.

Sheryl texted me and wanted to pencil in the last Sunday of every month to meet up and hang.

I can’t afford that. $80 a month to circle the drain? No fucking way. That’s a thousand dollars a year.

I’m offended at this point.

Thank you for your time in the 90’s. I really enjoyed our conversations and the sex.

I’m glad I got to see you, but I expected you to be a bit further along.

I know we could have had some fun together this year, but I’m going to pass Sheryl.

 

You’re cut off.

 

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

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Phicklephilly Special Report: A CURE FOR CANCER? ISRAELI SCIENTISTS SAY THEY THINK THEY FOUND ONE!

https://www.jpost.com/HEALTH-SCIENCE/A-cure-for-cancer-Israeli-scientists-say-they-think-they-found-one-578939

 

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James Ingram, Grammy-Winning & Chart-Topping R&B Singer, Dies at 66

https://www.billboard.com/articles/news/obituary/8495601/james-ingram-dead-obituary

 

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8 Things Guys Need To Know About Dating An Older Woman

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

 

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Kara – Valentine’s Day Date

Some background: I had known Kara since she was in college and had a crush on her when she came into the bank I worked in. Came close to going out with her once, but it never really materialized. I lost touch with her for over a decade before getting back in touch on Facebook. We chatted in a Facebook friends way, but she was also a very outspoken feminist who was easy to anger, which lead to some “interesting” interactions.

Kara and I start talking more via Facebook closer to Valentine’s Day a couple of years ago and she began getting flirty and very interested in me out of the blue. Like I said, I had interest in her in the past so I figured, “Sweet! Better late than never.” Plans were made and we agreed to go out to a local bar the day before Valentine’s. I had made some references to a previous date I went on where I paid for the meal and the girl I was with ghosted me afterward. It was a shitty thing for her to do and felt she used me for a free meal. Of course after mentioning this, Kara gets super offended and sarcastic (first red flag). So instead of “inconveniencing” me by having me take her out to eat, the bar was suggested.

We’re at the bar that night and things are pretty chill, although it is worth noting that I like to drink and I do enjoy hanging at a nice bar. But I don’t like public drunkenness or drunk, rowdy, loud people.

It was karaoke night and she’s a singer, so she especially wanted to go that night. During a relatively short period of time she downs 4 beers and (at least) three shots (red flag number two) and she’s a slender woman. By this point as you can imagine, she’s pretty toasty. Meanwhile I nurse a beer down and have one shot of Jameson. Toward the end of the evening, she suggests getting together on Valentine’s Day for another date. We brainstorm on where to go and going out to eat is mentioned again as a possibility. Once again she tosses out the sarcastic jab about not wanting me to “feel used” by paying for dinner, complete with eye roll and all. So we settled on her cooking for me at her apartment. Ok cool. It’s a date.

I had taken off Valentine’s Day to get my car inspected anyway. I thought no problem, I’ll roll in during the day, get the sticker, and then swing by in the evening to her place. Well, it didn’t end up working that way. It started with the fact that the 2.5 hour ETA on the inspection turned into a 5.5 hour wait. During this time, the clock was ticking for me to get to her house. I texted her and explained what was happening saying I probably was not going to have time to stop and pick up anything for V Day due to this fiasco. She understood and just wanted me to get there. I finally get out of the shop with my sticker and get to her place (30 minutes later than we agreed). She had already started the dinner and was almost done with it, so we used that time to chill and talk. Everything was going fine. During this time she downs a third of a bottle of wine by herself (uh oh… I know a functioning alcoholic when I see one). We finish the main course and decide we want dessert, so we head to the local grocery store. There’s a winter storm warning with potential snow for the next day, so I stocked up on some food for myself while there. We get back to her place, finish up and I take my leave, agreeing to get together sometime soon. Again, all seems fine.

Two days pass and she sends me a text mentioning something about a Facebook post she made. So I go onto her wall and my jaw drops. She posted a rant about me (fortunately not naming names) essentially accusing me of being a barbarian for a multitude of reasons. Her friends chimed in and called me a Viking and other demeaning things. Upon pressing her for more info in private she expounded on my sins, and they were:

1.) I didn’t bring her anything on V Day and just “brought my appetite.” Even though I texted her and told her why I couldn’t stop due to the inspection delay, which I also reminded her that she said was okay and understood.

2.) I didn’t offer to pay for the food we bought at the grocery store. In fact, I had all the items in my hand ready to pay and I asked her point-blank if I could pay for everything. She said ‘no it’s fine I will pay for my stuff.’ I asked, “are you sure?” She again said it was fine.

3.) I did not help clean up after the meal she cooked. Actually, I had the plates in my hand placing them into the sink. I turned and I asked her, “Can I help you clean up?” She said, no it’s fine, I got it. I asked her, “Are you sure?” She again said it was okay.

4.) I accused her of being an alcoholic. Okay I fess up to this one — I did kind of say something about her drinking, but I was being mostly playful. She apparently took it as a great offense.

5.) I was ultimately just looking for an opportunity for sex. What? No. That was not my intention at all, and I told her as such.

Sadly, it all fell on deaf ears and she wasn’t interested in hearing my excuses, and I should be thinking of ways to make it all up to her. Oh, but apparently it was all okay, because “She wasn’t mad anymore.” Even if I gave her the complete benefit of the doubt on all her accusations, that’s still no excuse to make it public. It doesn’t matter if she named names or not; it was a douche move.

I decided I could not see myself with someone as insane as her with the threat of every spat we had posted on public social media. So I unfriended her. Two more days passed with no word and I thought, well she’s seen the error of her ways and understands why I dropped her, leaving it at that.

Nope.

I get this text from her out of the blue absolutely ripping into me calling me all sorts of names and how she couldn’t believe I blocked her from FB (which I didn’t, I just unfriended). I calmly explained that her post was childish and that I was not a “Viking” or a “Barbarian” as it suggested. I ended with wishing her the best. She of course continues her verbal assault and tells me she is blocking my number. My last words to her: ” K bye 🙂 ”

Haven’t spoken to or seen her psycho self since, although it said she did view my profile on a dating site we were both on a little while later. I DID block her from that.

Oh, Kara…

 

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

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Murder Mystery Weekend – Chapter 5

My next excursion to the Lido was even more interesting. Leo wanted my help getting a costume. He also insisted that we go with his sister Claire, and Eliza, even though the two of them were more than capable of shopping for costumes by themselves. I had promised Teresa, so off I went.

Leo has been a close friend since high school. We know just about everything there is to know about each other, with two glaring exceptions.

We have acted as each other’s wingman on a hundred occasions. My buddy Leo is outgoing, dresses well, and exudes confidence. He is utterly fearless, and will approach the best-looking woman in the place. Bar, club, party, any social situation whatsoever – it makes no difference. And he strikes out every single time.

You see, Leo is 5′ 5″, has the body of Pee Wee Herman, and a face that only a mother could love. Yet when he looks in the mirror, Leo sees something completely different. Believe me, I’ve tried to tell him. I have suggested that he adjust his sights, and try to hit on the second best-looking woman he sees. I’ve tried to set him up with a less glamorous girl, or find him someone ‘in his league’, so to speak. No dice. He rejected all of my suggestions – they weren’t good enough for him.

The odd thing is, Leo has had a crush on Eliza since we were in high school. Eliza is his sister’s best friend. And she’s about the farthest thing from the type of woman he usually pursues as you could possibly imagine.

Eliza is tiny. She might be 5′ 1”, as she claims, but I doubt it. She has straw-colored hair and cute freckles. In my opinion, Eliza is quite pretty when she smiles (which she does a lot). She may be small, with no ass or hips to speak of, but she proudly carries a sizeable chest. Her boobs are probably not that large, but on her diminutive frame, they look huge. I’ve always thought of a pigeon when I see her in profile.

She’s a wonderful girl, and a good friend. We all called her “Ee”. I just can’t understand how Leo could obsess over her for a decade without approaching her once, while he has no hesitation at all when it comes to supermodels. I’ve never told him to give up his illusions.

The other thing I’ve never told Leo is that I would love to fuck his sister.

Claire is not the brightest bulb in the package, if you get my drift. Sometimes, you open the fridge door, and the light doesn’t come on. She also has an annoying nasal laugh, that sounds a bit like the neighing of a horse. To top it all off, Claire has a sizeable gap between her front teeth.

But Claire has long, dark hair, and a cute face, even with the gap in her teeth. And she has a body that would make a bishop horny. High, pert breasts – I think they’re 34Bs – a slim waist, swelling hips, and an ass like an apricot. Round, tight, and juicy sweet. She dresses well, like her brother, and when she doesn’t overdo the make-up, Claire looks quite good.

She has given me signs, over the years, that she was interested. There was a party, one time, when we were dancing. I can’t forget the song: it was ‘Love is the Drug’, by Roxy Music. In my defence, it’s a damn sexy song. Watching Claire sway to the music was mesmerizing. When she turned around and began flexing that shapely little ass, I was lost.

We ended up on the couch, with her sitting on my lap. The lights were low, and we necked for a while, with a little groping. Then we heard Leo coming down the stairs, and leapt apart as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water on us.

I didn’t want to date Claire, and I don’t believe that she was interested in a relationship either. Neither of us wanted to deal with her protective brother. We were a bit wary around each other after that. But there was no denying that the sexual chemistry had been there.

 

https://wordpress.com/post/lapetitemort17.wordpress.com/258

 

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

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