Phicklephilly – 2019 – 1000 Posts! – We Did It!!!

“If you live a life that is without the elements of who you really are you will never be happy.”

I’ve just been notified by WordPress that after 2 1/2 years of writing this blog I’ve written a 1000 posts!!!

It’s been an incredible journey to finally be writing again. I started out in this life as an artist. Then a musician, and then a writer.

But life, marriage, a child, and a career removed me from all of that. Other people needed me and the bills had to be paid.

But after 10 years I decided to write again.

I created Phicklephilly in the spring of 2016 and then did nothing.

By the fall I asked myself, is this something you’re going to talk about in bars with your friends and never do? I had discussed the notion of writing a blog about my life with many of my friends. One who is a better and more visceral writer than myself.

But I started to write.

I published a post about a waitress I had been infatuated with for some time on a Monday.

I worried no one would read it or like it. I worried that I wouldn’t be able to come up with content every Monday.

But I did.

Then I started writing updates for a Wednesday release.

Once the wheel started to roll, I did what needed to be done.

I wrote.

Writing is a hard lonely existence.

It’s something that you have to push yourself to do. Especially in the beginning. But like anything you really want you push yourself to do.

You begin a fitness program and you stick with it. The muscles grow and the fat disappears. You keep at it and then it gets easier.

I started to write like mad. Cranking out content until I had something happening  few times a week.

 

Then I found other things I liked and started to write about them. The Tanning salon, Tales of Rock, Crazy dates I’d been on in the past. Celebrities I’d met, and most of all, past relationships.

Some beautiful. Some bittersweet.

I’m not a great writer, but I kept at it. Like a pilot, I put in a certain number of hours until the plane called Phicklephilly soared.

And now here I am with all of you my loyal followers and readers after two and a half  years of writing.

1000 posts and over 50,000 views!

I couldn’t be happier.

 

If you want to do something, don’t talk about it. Like Nike says: Just do it.

Write everyday.

Push yourself. Who cares who reads it. Just create and express yourself.

 

I GUARANTEE  you that if you start writing and keep at it, the rewards will be like pieces of gold falling into your lap.

When you write from the heart and tell the truth about everything in your life, (Not everything. Keep some of yourself for yourself. That belong to you.)  You will find this liberating weight lifted from your shoulders.

Get it all out. The good, the bad and the ugly. Don’t be afraid. It’s just words. But it will lighten the load you’ve been carrying around your whole life.

Once you write it down and publish it… It’s gone but not invisible. But it’s out of you for the first time in your life. It’s now safely on the paper. You can understand what you’ve experienced so much better once you write about it.

You can look back on your work and your life and it’ so much easier to process, forgive and understand.

 

Writing Phicklephilly has been the most singular liberating experience of my adult life.

 

And there is so much more to tell.

I have so much more to say.

Knowing that these stories are now out on the internet forever. Even after I’m dead it is comforting.

Because they are no longer my responsibility. WordPress carries the weight for me now.

But by writing all of these stories guarantees my immortality.

 

I don’t need that, but it’s so much to live a simple, happy, and uncluttered life once you write.

I love most of what I’ve written. Everybody knows I hate writing dating and relationship advice but I found a way to keep it going for my readers who enjoy it.

I think my followers now know that I write Phicklephilly because of my simple love of creating. I’ve always been that way since I was a child. Drawing a picture. Sculpting something out of clay. Writing a song. Writing a book and a screenplay. Creating a comic strip.

I am an entity that apparently must always be creating and am happiest when I’m doing that very thing.

“If you live a life that is without the elements of who you really are you will not be happy.”

I feel happier than I have ever felt in my entire life.

I’ve lived a big exciting life. I’ve done a lot and experienced much. But it really comes down to a few simple components for me and please take heed if you wish.

  1. Your health is essential. You have that. you’re already winning.
  2. Surround yourself with good people. Whether they are friends, family or even some wonderful pet companions.
  3. Have something to do every day that you like to do. If you hate your job, find a better one that suits your life needs. It’s a third of your life, work. Why spend your day being miserable? Do something you don’t hate every day. It’s a short life. Enjoy yourself!
  4. To love and be loved. This is a tough one. Most people need this one. Love yourself and find someone else to love. If they love you back… Awesome!
  5. Have something to look FORWARD to. I don’t care what it is. Just have something. Brunch with a friend, a red envelope arriving from Netflix, a party, a day off, something you want to do that you made time to do. 

 

That’s it.

The rest is just stuff and bullshit.

Focus on the top 5.

 

Thank you one and all for taking the time out of your busy lives to take the time to read my little blog about dating, relationships and a bunch of stuff from my life.

I wish I could throw a big party and invite each and every one of you and we could all hang out and really get to know one another.

I’ve had the joy to become friends with some of the other talented writers on WordPress and it has been an absolute delight.

So many great people on here.

I also really appreciate my friends who have read and have subscribed to Phicklephilly. I love knowing they are here with me on this journey of self discovery and I hope some of this will inspire them to push forward on their lives.

Two and a half years ago there was nothing. I decided to start to write and now this is here.

You can create anything you want. You just have to do it and do it every day.

Look what can happen if you put your mind to something.

I’m still going to try in 2019 to get a couple of books published on Amazon Kindle this year!

 

Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!!!!

 

Anything can be done, and you can do it too.

Please reach out to me for anything. I’ll always get back to as fast as I can.

 

My heart is full of love.

 

Life is good and my daughter Lorelei is healthy and happy, so that’s all I need.

 

Thank you one and all. This means the world to me and I hope you continue to enjoy the content I provide in 2019 and beyond!

 

There’s so much more to the story!!!

 

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

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Why Dogs Are Replacing Men in Women’s Hearts

http://va.topbuzz.com/s/yjhSQcp

 

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

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Why 6th January is the Best Day for Online Dating

http://va.topbuzz.com/s/RdhNQcp

 

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

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14 of the Weirdest, Craziest, Philly-est Stories from 2018

Greased poles, profane potholes, farm animals roaming the city. Just another year in Philadelphia.

https://billypenn.com/2018/12/27/14-of-the-weirdest-craziest-philly-est-stories-from-2018/

 

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 Reaches 50,000 Views!

Oh my God!

We did it!

After two and a half years and 942 blog posts I have miraculously reached 50,000 views on phicklephilly!!!

This is the best Christmas gift that I could have imagined this holiday season.

When I started this I never thought it would reach such heights.  I didn’t even know what I was doing. I just wanted to create again after not writing for over 10 years.

I was inspired by a lovely, charming waitress and a guy I worked with who said I should write about all of the ladies in my life.

It started out once a week on Mondays. I wrote about a waitress I was infatuated with at the time. (See: Maria – Amor En Vano)

Maria has become my muse and the ongoing inspiration for this blog.

The best part of that relationship is that we’re friends but rarely hang out. There’s no romantic connection and that’s what keeps it healthy. I could never get involved with her because we live in two different worlds.

When I see Maria, it’s the very best of Maria. I don’t ever experience the other aspects of her life. I’m sure they are extremely challenging for my muse. Life is complicated and confounding to my muse as she navigates the minefield of her life in the service industry and her romantic entanglements.

She has limitless value to me, but I never experience the darker aspects of her life.

It may seem one-sided but that’s how it’s best suited for our current relationship. She lives her life and I live mine. Completely different. I never see her struggles. I only hear about them.

Granted, I’m always available to help her in any way I can and I’m willing to help her in any way I can.

But for the most part when I see her it’s “Greatest Hits.”

 

I’ll be spending Christmas day going through all of my contacts to try to find her a marketing gig at an agency somewhere in the city.

I want to do it. I want my muse to be happy and successful. She’s been through too much. I have very little invested in her. But her presence has been the trigger that ignited this blog so I must honor her.

Maria needs to do nothing.

The train that is phicklephilly is already rolling down the track and has been for the last two years. (27,000 visitors and 50,000 views!)

She’s my inspiration! I have to help her!

The beauty of all of this is for once the muse doesn’t become the girlfriend. That’s where the problems always start.

I’m in a better place than I’ve ever been and my creative work continues to flourish. Whatever was inspired two years ago worked!

 

I remember when I created the first skeleton of phicklephilly I had no clue what I was doing or where I was going. I knew I had to start dating again, (Ugh) and knew I needed content.

I created the blog and that was a huge first step. But actually, that’s the easy part.

You can sign up for any writing site on the internet and they’ll pretty much effortlessly walk you through it.

What it really comes down to after that is up to you.

I created phicklephilly in July of 2016.

I never wrote a word until September.

The whole summer went by with me having a blog and not doing anything about it. Pretty much a bit more of what I’d done for the last 10 years.

Nothing.

I asked myself, “Is this going to be another thing you talk about with people you know at lunch and over drinks and never do?

I paused and thought about Maria. A beautiful, sweet woman from humble beginnings like myself, that was self-made. A woman who told herself that she was determined to get her marketing degree and rise above her current vocation.

Am I going to write and create again, or am I just going to talk about it over beers with a bunch of people and never do it?

That would be easy and dumb.

I know people who are far better than me in regard to the written word.

I discussed what I was going to do. They said I had inspired them to write again too.

Here’s the difference.

They are stuck in their lives and will NEVER take pen to paper ever again.

That’s fine. It has no effect on my life. But I needed to evolve and start creating again. I’ve done art. I’ve done music. Writing should be easy if I just put my mind to it.

Anyone who is reading this who writes knows it’s not easy.

You have to find your space and be alone and bang out a 1000 words about whatever. Fuck writers block. You just have to be alone and create. You do it every day and crank out the art.

Like a ballerina, she takes classes every day. My father once said, if you want to be a painter, go paint every day. Well I like to create and I write everyday.

I was chatting with my sister Gabrielle at the holiday party on Sunday, and I was telling her about what’s coming out in 2019.

“How do you have the time to come up with so much material and stories to have it come out everyday, twice a day?”

“I like to work and be busy, but in my down time instead of sitting around or blowing money doing anything else, I write. When I’m off I edit or create. It’s not hard if you put your mind to it.”

Nothing’s hard if you put your mind to it.

That’s how everything has been accomplished in the world.

Most people just go to work and then do a bunch of other things that don’t evolve them and they wonder why they’re going nowhere or attach themselves to things they think will make them happy but it’s all a fail.

Put something on Earth that wasn’t here before you got here.

Tell your story.

If you’re serious you’ll do it.

If you want my help. I’ll help you.

Everybody needs a mentor.

Me included.

 

Happy Holidays! Thank you one and all for all the views and comments and follows. phicklephilly has grown beyond anything I could have imagined.

 

Thank you, Maria for your inspiration!

 

I’m going to try to write this damn thing until the day I die.

 

I hope you all enjoy all of the new aspects I’ve added in 2019.

 

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

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Tales of Rock – Bon Scott

Ronald Belford “Bon” Scott (9 July 1946 – 19 February 1980) was a Scottish-Australian singer and songwriter, best known for being the primary lead vocalist and lyricist of the Australian hard rock band AC/DC from 1974 until his death in 1980.[1]

Scott was born in Forfar, Scotland, and raised in Kirriemuir, before moving to Melbourne with his family in 1952 at the age of six. They lived in the suburb of Sunshine for four years before moving to Fremantle.[1] Scott formed his first band, The Spektors, in 1964 and became the band’s drummer and occasional lead vocalist. He performed in several other bands including The Valentines and Fraternity before replacing Dave Evans as the lead singer of AC/DC in 1974.[1]

AC/DC’s popularity grew throughout the 1970s, initially in Australia, and then internationally. Their 1979 album Highway to Hell reached the top twenty in the United States, and the band seemed on the verge of a commercial breakthrough. However, on 19 February 1980, Scott died after a night out in London. AC/DC briefly considered disbanding, but the group recruited vocalist Brian Johnson of the British glam rock band Geordie. AC/DC’s subsequent album, Back in Black, was released only five months later, and was a tribute to Scott. It went on to become the second best-selling album in history.[1]

In the July 2004 issue of Classic Rock, Scott was rated as number one in a list of the “100 Greatest Frontmen Of All Time” ahead of Freddie Mercury and Robert PlantHit Parader ranked Scott as fifth on their 2006 list of the 100 Greatest Heavy Metal Vocalists of all time.[3]

 

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Rob and Laura – Thanksgiving – Food and Beverage Dilemma

I’ve been friends with Rob and Laura for a few years now. They’re a really cool couple and I love hanging out with them. They’re a smart good-looking pair that both have good jobs.

I’ve had lunch with Rob a couple of times in the last year but I haven’t seen the new house they bought recently.

So I was thrilled when they invited me over for Thanksgiving this year. They said it would be a small intimate affair.

The reason I entitled this post as “Food and Beverage Dilemma” was because that’s what initially was going to be the theme of this post. It certainly begins with that, but takes on a completely different turn later in the post. But I decided to leave the title the same because that’s all I want to remember of this Thanksgiving.

If you’ve been following phicklephilly, you’ll know how I feel about Thanksgiving these days. (See: Thanksgiving Tradition ) I’ve had tons of great thanksgivings in my life. My family was always big on Christmas, not thanksgiving. I get it. I’m very grateful for everything I have in my life, but I don’t need to stuff my head with tons of food that takes hours to prepare to feel that.

But when Rob and Laura invited me to their new home I really felt special. I was actually getting excited for Thanksgiving to arrive.

My buddy Church gave me a motherlode of liquor last year so I decided to re-gift a bottle of whiskey to Rob. (See: Church – 2014 to Present – The Motherload) It was a bottle of Westland American single malt whiskey. 90 proof and apparently very good. I also was going to bake some of my own chocolate cookies for the event. I figured bring them a nice bottle of something and some of my cookies for dessert.

A few nights before Thanksgiving, I was looking at the bottle and decided to look it up online to learn more about it before giving it away. This way I could talk about it at the table.

I find it online and it’s going for between $80 – $100 a bottle!

Wait a second. That’s really expensive. Am I prepared to part with a $100 whiskey? I need to rethink this. Shouldn’t I keep this bottle because it’s so valuable and just get them something else? Funny what money does to your mind.

Well I’ve got a few days. I’ll think about it.

I go into the salon and run my predicament by Achilles.

“Are you gonna drink it?”

“No. It’s too nice for me. I like my boxed wine and vodka that comes in a plastic bottle.”

“How much did you pay for the whiskey?”

“Nothing. It was given to me a year ago.”

“Well, if you’re not going to drink it, and you got it for free, why don’t you just give it to them and maybe they’ll realize that it’s expensive and reciprocate someday. But if not, you had a nice Thanksgiving with your friends.”

“You’re right. And I’m going to bake cookies.”

“Fuck that. Just buy a few gourmet cookies, put them in a paper bag and be done with it.”

“Yea. You’re right. That’s what I’m going to do.”

But the night before Thanksgiving I was still torn. I walked out of the salon after I closed and headed to the liquor store a block away. I got half way down the street and turned back.

Screw it. Achilles is right. I’m going to pick up some cookies at my local grocery store and pack up the bottle of Westland Whiskey for Rob and Laura.

Each one of those cellophane bags has two cookies in side so I’ve spent a total of eight bucks on Thanksgiving this year. Good to go!

The next day I did the long trek to Fairmont. It probably took over 40 minutes to get there. It was so nice to see Rob and Laura.

But they have a two year old son that was just up from his nap. I know Rob has been telling me about how challenging it’s been being a parent. They both have big jobs, the kid’s in day care all day, and when they get home they’re so exhausted from work they don’t want to deal with him.

I’m a parent and like my parents before me children are like intelligent puppies when they’re little. Those dogs need to be disciplined. A trained dog is a happier and more calm dog. And boys are tough. But once I’m there for awhile I realize very quickly this isn’t happening.

He’s a winey, wild, child. That must have worked and he knows when he does it they will yield to him. He’s like a little drunken tyrant midget. I even played with him on the floor for awhile with his animals and trucks and it was tough but I feel like no one’s doing that with him. He certainly lacks order in his life. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, I’ve never raised my voice or my hand to my daughter Lorelei. But I was consistent in my words and deeds and brought order and calm into her life. She knew exactly where the fences were and still are.

But it’s just not happening here and it’s stunting this child’s social development.

I love Rob and Laura, but they need to get on the stick about raising this boy. It’s not his fault. He’s just an untrained puppy who sadly has got his parents by the short and curies and they need to take back the power and straighten this boy out. Just like my friend Marigold and her crazy kids. No one is disciplining these little monsters!

The child’s behavior ruined my Thanksgiving this year. I don’t have the will to go over there again if he’s there or even awake. Lunch or happy hour but adults only!

So in closing, my food and beverage dilemma wasn’t the problem at all. It took on a whole new form.

 

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

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My Young Life: April Wants A Dog – 1978 – Part Two

This piece is dedicated to my middle sister April.

We’re all very upset and don’t know what to do. After pleading our case to dad, my father speaks:

“Let me take her to the shore for a couple of weeks.”

“You think it’ll work, dad?”

“I raised you four kids didn’t I?”

We were all relieved. We hated the idea of giving up on the dog and also happy we were all getting  break from this mad beast.

April was still sad and so was my mom. My mother always had a sweet spot in her heart for children and animals. They were the innocents. She trusted that my father could help.

He put the dog in his car that Sunday, with a bag of chow and her bowls and bedding. He had also checked a few books out of the library about training dogs. My father loved books and they built his entire modern mind. April was crying and my mother was sad as well as he loaded the car.

I watched as my father backed out of the driveway and we all waved and prayed for the best.

We didn’t see him for two weeks. Me at sixteen was relieved because it was just a more peaceful household without my dad and the dog.

My mother, sisters and I went about our normal routines.

I spoke with my father on the phone after the first week. I asked him how it was going. He said he took the dog to the beach early each morning before work. He would run her through short training exercises. He told me that when he was in the army he had a shepherd named Babe. He loved that dog.

He said he would take our dog through her paces each morning. He’d even let her run free and chase the birds on the beach. The dog loved being free on the beach by the sea each day. It must have been a little confusing for the dog initially to be transported to this foreign place with this alpha male she barely knew.

“What happens if she doesn’t come when you call her?”

“When I finally get the leash on her, I have a very tight rein on her and take her straight home. Her little nails are hardly touching the ground.”

This seemed harsh to me, but this was an animal, not a child. I always thought my dad was too hard on me, but he did teach me manners, and to be a disciplined, respectful boy. It’s no different with a dog. Discipline, love, affection and consistency.

Sounds like sound parenting to me.

Two weeks pass. It’s Friday night. Dad’s car rolls into the driveway. We’re all apprehensive. He gets out of his car. I remember how cool he looked in his brown suit and tie. He walks around to the back passenger door on the other side of his car and with leash in hand, brings forth our dog.

We don’t know what to expect.

My father stands before us with our black Lab. She is standing by his side. Her thick, rope-like tail is wagging. We hope she’s happy to see us after we banished her to a two-week stint in the hole with dad.

“Sit.”

The dog sits down next to him.

“Stay.”

He unhooks the leash. He walks toward my mother and hugs and kisses her. He hugs each of us.

The dog doesn’t move.

“Come on.”

The dog comes forward and joins the family in a hug. We’re all petting her and she’s so excited to see us. Frankly I’m amazed at the transformation.

My father opens the door to our house and tells her to go in. Mom has food and fresh water waiting for her. She goes into the kitchen and digs in.

“What did you do?”

“Love, consistency, discipline, repetition and reward. Just like we raised our kids.”

He smiles and I hug him. Good to see you, dad. Thank you.”

Everyone is happy and tearing up. It was like he brought home a different dog. The dog was chill and obedient and happy. He totally fixed our dog!

But did he? No. The dog was fine. But like any child it needed to be trained. This is my biggest complaints about todays parents, but you’ve all read my laments about that in this blog. (Rob and Laura – Thanksgiving)

I took her out for a walk and she didn’t pull once. She walked peacefully next to me. I would get to the corner and she would automatically sit down. I could have crossed the street and she wouldn’t move. I would have to say a command and she would stand up and cross with me.

After that two weeks with my dad, the dog was a perfect angel. Protector of the family and loyal friend. We all loved her dearly.

 

A few years later…

We were at the shore house in the summer. I was older and had no curfew. I would come home late, like three in the morning. I’d put my key in the door and go in the house. The dog wouldn’t even stir.

I asked my dad about this.

“She’s great but what kind of guard dog is this?”

“I roll in at all hours and I could be any intruder and she doesn’t even wake up.”

“Son… when you quietly open the gate and come up the driveway. She awakens and hears you. She hears your footfall as you approach the house. No matter what time it is, the moment you open the door she smells your scent and knows it’s you. That’s why she doesn’t get up. You’re family and she knows it.”

I found that all hard to believe but if dogs have more acute senses than we do when it comes to everything, I get it.

One night it was put to the test.

I’m out rockin’ and rollin’ at the clubs in Wildwood as usual. I get home. It’s the middle of the night. Easily well after two in the morning.

Shit. I forgot my key. But I’m seventeen and a lean dude. I put my foot on the back railing and hoist myself up onto the roof of our shower rooms on the back of the house. (My dad built the two outdoor shower rooms so we could all clean up and get the sand off of ourselves when we would return from the beach.)

I climb up on the roof of the showers, and then reach for the railing of the back deck that is just off my bedroom. (I’m doing this drunk mind you… Oh, youth!) I pull myself over to the ledge, and holding onto the railing flip myself over onto the balcony. Genius move!

I know that sliding glass door is usually unlocked because what idiot would ever attempt that move? I grab the handle and begin to slide it open.

I’m about to go in when all I see is this black snout and bared fangs. I hear a low growl that shakes me to my core.

“Hey! It’s me!”

Then I hear the familiar thump of that thick rope-like tail wagging like crazy.

She’s a good guard dog! She heard something different and immediately awakened and went to investigate… and defend the property and it’s occupants. I never forgot that story and have told it to many dog lovers through the years.

 

As the dog got older, like most large dogs they get some grey whiskers and their hips aren’t what they once were. My mother suffered from rheumatoid arthritis for most of her adult life. But she would take our dog out for a walk daily.

“We have to both go slowly now. We’re like a couple of old girls out for a stroll.”

Our dog was a beloved member of our family for fourteen years. A wonderful member of this family that we’ll never forget.

Oh… I never mentioned what April named the dog.

I did that on purpose.

Her name is the feminine version of the Latin name, Maximus.

April named our dog, MAXINE.

It means, the Greatest, or Bright and Noble.

 

Well done, April.

 

Maxine passed in 1991, and my parents are both gone as well.

But we hold them all in our hearts until the day we join them.

 

Then we’ll all be equal.

 

I think this sums it up.

 

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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Andrea – 2014 – S&M Girl

“Hi Lorelei. Daddy’s just going to take this fat, drunk bitch back to his room and tie her up. Then you’re going to hear a lot of slapping and squishing sounds. You’re also going to hear Daddy say a bunch of really foul sexually degrading things to this woman, so you better put your ear buds in and crank that shit up.”

One night a couple of years ago, I was out with a friend of mine. We were having drinks outside at Misconduct at 15th & Locust. He was telling me a story about this girl he met on Tinder. Pure hookup. She comes over to his apartment. Sadly, she doesn’t look like her Tinder pics. Which is not good. That’s like seeing a photo of a car you want to buy in the Auto Trader and when you get to the lot to check out the car, it’s an older model and a little banged up and maybe even a bit more car than you saw in the photos.

But he was drunk and up for the foul deed. He said she was a thick girl but he went to town on her anyway. Like my tinder profile says: “If you don’t look like your photos, you’re going to buy me drinks until you do.” So he said it was good sex except for one thing. He didn’t like that she wanted him to spit on her and hit her. There’s nothing wrong with what two consenting adults do with each other behind closed doors. Especially if everyone’s on board with what’s happening. But he didn’t like it. Just not his thing.

He told me that he wasn’t comfortable with that situation. He said at that point no matter what he was into or what he would do, he couldn’t do that again.  It just wasn’t him. (He didn’t spit on her or hit her at all) At that time, back in the beginning of 2014, I had just come off a break up and told him to send Andrea pics of me. Because I was up for whatever she wanted dished out. The key here is when it comes to dominance, be firm…not mean. There’s a big difference. I would discipline and correct her if necessary. And remember, the submissive party is ALWAYS in control. They have the safe word and hold the power to cancel the fantasy at anytime. That’s the rules of S&M play.

Well, nothing came of it. Until earlier this year when she connected to me on LinkedIn. LinkedIn of all places! Can you imagine with all of the dating websites out there, LinkedIn brings me the crazy S&M chick? So we chatted and did some texting. She wanted me to text her all of the things I was going to do to her, so I did. I have a pretty good imagination. She said she was getting really turned on and that we should meet.

I set it up that we should meet at the Ranstead Room. It’s just a good spot normally to hideout with somebody. I get there and I’m just chilling with a drink. She arrives shortly thereafter. My friend was right about her. In her Tinder pics she looks really hot, but in real life she is a lot bigger, and what was with that low tranny voice? Not good. I just wasn’t feeling it. I would have to drink a LOT of cocktails for Andrea to start to resemble her profile pics on Tinder. So I figured what the hell, I was already here and the drinks were flowing. She wasn’t that hot but at least I was someplace where nobody knew me.

Then the manager from the restaurant where my daughter works suddenly comes through the door and walks right up to me and says hello using my name.

Now I’m made. He can see who I’m with and now everybody there knows my name.

Andrea starts telling me about her life. She hates her job and wants to leave Philly. (Probably a good idea for us all.) She was seeing some crazy drug dealer loser guy. He’s suicidal, and does tons of coke. It’s bad, and she’s not much better.  I always thought if you did a bunch of cocaine you were skinny. Certainly not the case here.

After awhile we’re getting pretty tipsy. We went outside for a cigarette. She was on me like a northern pike hitting the bait. So I’m making out with her and people are walking by on Ranstead and she just pulls her boobs out. She’s losing her shit. She wants to take me back behind the building and give me a blowjob.

Yea. Great. I’ll just go stand behind my daughter’s manager’s Mercedes-Benz and you can give me oral. What if he walks outside and sees that shit? That’s not going to be good for me or anybody. Now, if this was Los Angeles and it was 1982, yea I’d be down for that, but not now. That’s gross. Sure, I’m flattered that she’s turned on enough from my words and the alcohol to want to blow me in a filthy alley, but no. Just no. I don’t roll like that.

She’s drunk. We go back inside and we’re in the vestibule and all sorts of things are happening with lips and fingers. If somebody comes through either door, we’re going to jail. So after that brief encounter, we go back inside. I kind of want to go home. In the right environment, some S&M play could be fun with her, but I’m just not getting a good vibe from her in this moment. She’s calling me daddy and all that shit. She says she loves older men, etc. I tell her I have an early sales meeting in the morning that I have to travel to so we should wrap it up. (A bold-faced lie)

She wants to go back to my place and have sex. Great idea. I can see it now. Me walking through the door to my apartment with Andrea and my daughter sitting on the sofa.

“Hi Lorelei. Daddy’s just going to take this fat, drunk bitch back to his room and tie her up. Then you’re going to hear a lot of slapping and squishing sounds. You’re also going to hear Daddy say a bunch of really foul sexually degrading things to this woman, so you better put your ear buds in and crank that shit up.”

No. Not happening. We pay the bill, and we walk over to 18th Street. I hail her a taxi and send her on her way. I was actually relieved when she was gone.

If somebody I met and was in a relationship wanted to experiment with some things, I’d be down with that, but Andrea just isn’t that person.

Update! She appeared at the salon tonight for a tan before she goes to L.A!

She’s leaving Philly for good!

 

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