An Evening With James – Part 2

Yesterday I began the two-part saga of hanging out with my friend James. Thanks for tuning in for the conclusion!

The Lyft arrives and it’s a five-star driver with a pleasant personality and a clean car. I’m safe and on my way to see James. Based on my calculations I’m less than 15 minutes away from his house. But for some reason I guess I was traveling during a surge period and this ride is costing me $17! What the heck?

But I let it go because it was my mistake that got me here and I’m happy I’m safe and in an air-conditioned, clean vehicle to my friend’s doorstep. I chat with the driver and he points out all of the hot spots in town on our way there. Noted. I’ll pass these recommendations onto James when I see him. He’s single now and should get out in the real world to hunt and not so much on these dating apps.

He drops me off and I knock on James’s front door. After a few minutes, I hear a window opening above my head. I look up and James is sticking his head out the window. “Didn’t you get my text? The door’s open. I’m just out of the shower.”

I go in and head for the kitchen. He has a jar full of those peanut butter-filled pretzels on the counter and I munch on a few of them. Nothing’s changed since I was here last. Several pieces of furniture are gone, but he’s set up a turntable and some speakers next to the 50 plus liquor bottles in the corner of the room. He wants to install a bar of some type to put his collection into but he’s just been too busy. But it’s been a productive busy. Lots of interesting dates and the obligations of running his talent agency.

I think about the last time I was here. Lethal cocktails, beers, burgers, and dogs. I loved it all but at my age, none of the above loves me back anymore. I was under the weather for 2 days after that last time. That won’t happen again, right?

James comes down and starts making cocktails. I’m petting one of his exotic cats. I like the grey and black one that resembles a tiger. James thinks that cat is an a$$hole but I like him because he’s so handsome.

James gives me one of his famous Manhattans. It packs a punch but is delicious. Are you supposed to use 100 proof rye whiskey in that drink? Probably not, but  I can’t say no to a freshly made quality cocktail that’s made with authentic ingredients right down to the brandied berry on the toothpick. Plus… they’re free. Free always tastes better than paid for. James makes really good cocktails and never scrimps on the quality.

So I tell him about the last few weeks of non-stop commercial writing assignments, my encounters with Lin, and my harrowing trip to get here today. Then it’s his turn.

His life now that he’s single sounds like my life when I started this blog back in 2016. Non-stop dates, events, and oceans of alcohol.

He’s hungry, so he whips up some tasty little frozen chicken nuggets. James is the king of hot sauce and dipping and he brings out the plate of snacks. He’s telling me about all of his dates in detail, (which I love because I’m now living vicariously through my young apprentice) and we munch on the chicken while sipping our potent beverages. (I even ripped off a few little bits and fed them to his cat which he enjoyed!) James told me that could give the cat diarrhea later but I figured a few little scraps wouldn’t hurt him. Cats have far more robust and septic digestive systems than humans or even dogs.

The next couple of cocktails I consumed were whiskey and coffee liqueur based and they were delicious. But I was already buzzing from my first Manhattan.  Did I know that these venomous drinks were a recipe for a hangover tomorrow? Of course, I did. But did it at any time cross my mind during this social visit with my friend? No, it did not.

So, it turns out I was right about his motives for the evening. It was number 2. Strip club. Okay, James. Whatever you want buddy. You’ve never been there and you should at least see what it’s all about.

We’ve been chatting for a few hours and through several cocktails and I’m fine with it. It was probably around 10:30 or 11:00 by the time he called the Lyft to take us to Delilah’s.

Delilah’s describes itself on their website as “a landmark in Philadelphia for over a quarter-century. Over that time Delilah’s has established itself as the premier entertainment destination for business travelers, celebrities, and uninhibited Philadelphians alike.”

That sounds great, but that’s never what any of these kinds of places are like. Even using the phrase, “gentlemen’s club” is abhorrent. You can hang whatever title you want on any of these joints and they are all just strip joints, plain and simple. It can be big, and fancy with tall stripper poles and lots of fancy lights, stages, and music, but it’s all the same stuff.

A den of iniquity full of sleazy, sweaty losers who are looking to escape reality. A place where these losers can flash some money and get the attention of a few desperate, damaged women in skimpy outfits. The last time I was here, was for my friend Duncan after his divorce. I don’t go to places like this because I never need to. I can meet real women in the real world. Places like this are gross and so are the men who frequent them.

I used to know a guy that was addicted to these scum holes. He has no personality or game of any kind and has blown thousands of dollars at places like this. He’s always been a sleazy loser and this is the only way he can ever get the attention of fit young women. He has to pay for it. Pathetic.

The women who work there are usually all mentally damaged in some form. What girl chooses to end up in a vocation where she has to parade around in her underwear for a living and be nice to a bunch of gross losers while they stuff dollar bills in her bra or thong? No little girl ever dreams of being a stripper when she grows up. She’s been damaged by someone along the way. It’s so sad.

We arrive and go inside. We’re both in good spirits due to the amount of distilled spirits flowing through our veins and just being together. James pays our cover which was $10 each. We have to go through a vigorous security process similar to getting on a plane. Maybe worse. Patted down by burly security guards, put your keys, wallet, and phone in a tray while you pass through a metal detector to enter the club. I whipped out my vaccination card but nobody cared. As long as I wasn’t packing any weapons they didn’t care if we were patient zero and carriers of covid and ebola!

We walk up to the first bar as you enter the main area. The last time I was here I prefer to sit in the back because it’s quiet and a bit more remote. But James has never been here before and he’s dazzled by the energy of the place and all the female pulchritude.

Within 30 seconds two attractive blondes in skimpy outfits were upon us.

Have you ever walked onto the property of a used car lot? What’s the first thing that happens? Right… you are immediately accosted by some sleazy used car salesman who descends upon you like a desperate starving vulture.

That’s what it felt like. These girls are looking to maximize their earnings each night and we are simply ATMs. They charm us with their wiles to figure out our emotional PIN, and their job is to separate us from our cash.

These two hapless souls were all over us from the minute we got to the bar. We barely had time to order a couple of Stella Artois. James picked up on the vibe immediately, and we got our beers and headed to the back away from these cute piranhas.

We take our seats at the end of one of the bars and enjoy the show. The women that work at Delilah’s are better looking than the gals that work at some of the other clubs in town. This is the premier place, right? But as I said, it’s all the same trip in every one of these places across the nation.

James seems to be getting into the spirit of things though, so I’m happy he’s having a good time. He’s never been here so being newly single again, he’s glad he can go where he pleases and do what he wants and doesn’t have to answer to anyone anymore. He doesn’t have to get permission from his girlfriend to go live the life he wants.

I tell him since I wasn’t entirely sure we were coming here tonight I didn’t prepare. (I never prepare because I never go to places like this.) When you go to a strip club you should always bring plenty of cash because it’s king in these joints. Cash for lap dances in the private rooms and lots of singles for stuffing in G-strings.

So against my better judgment, I head over to the ATM. Now, when I used to go to the Gold Club down in center city with Johnny R before I cut that alcoholic loser off, I knew to never use their mac machine. Here’s why… Strip clubs know they have a captive audience full of drunk, horny losers. They exploit every inch of that real estate. Crappy drinks are overpriced, the girls are money-hungry jackals, and the fee to use the mac machine is usually jacked up. They know you don’t want to leave to get more money. You want that lap dance from that hottie who’s been teasing you for the last hour with promises of love and maybe other things in the back room.

The Gold Club is a place where sexual stuff can happen. I’ve witnessed Johnny R get all kinds of favors from the girls there in the back room. It’s a low-class place and the staff isn’t as pretty as at Delilah’s so they’re more apt to give a few favors for the right price.

The ATM fee at the Gold club is around $6. Which is twice to three times what you’d pay at an average ATM anywhere else in the city. But dudes pay it and probably don’t even notice they’re getting hit with the fee. Being drunk and horny clouds their vision. But, here I am at Delilah’s, the “classy” joint in town and I’m about to take money from their ATM. I figure, what the heck. I’m only going to write all about this later and it’ll be more informative to my readers if they know the real deal.

So I go to the mac machine and put my debit card in. I choose to take out $80. I get my four twenties and receipt and head back to the bar to see James.

I pull out the receipt from the machine and show it to him. He doesn’t notice it at first, but see if you can.

Yea… a horror show. A $16 fee just to get your money out of that thing! That’s highway robbery!

I’m a cheapskate anyway when I go to these kinds of hellholes, so seeing this I knew I would NOT be spending much money in this dump. I wouldn’t anyway, but wow. Just wow. It made me wish that I was the owner of that ATM. What a cash cow!

James laughs in surprise and whips out a neatly wrapped stack of $100 in one-dollar bills he has to have gotten from his local bank of account. I laughed at his planning. Well done, James! You came prepared. You’re a regular boy scout!

I gave him 2 twenties and he reluctantly counted out $40 in one-dollar bills to me in exchange.

He’s been chatting with probably the prettiest, fit dancer in the place and tells me he’s going off to get a lap dance. Good for him. He needs to experience this place to its fullest. But I think he’s in for a rude awakening. We all know what happens and NEVER happens in the champagne room at Delilah’s.

While he’s gone two really cute Hispanic girls approach me. They’re both adorable and alluring. I haven’t seen them in here all night, nor have I seen either one of them dances on stage. They both proceed to cut right to the chase. “Give us $300 and you can come in one of the back rooms and have s*x with us. (Gotta watch the words I use here. Google Adsense flags anything sexy on my sight now. If I want to earn ad revenue on here, I gotta keep it clean) I graciously decline their offer, as tempting as these two lovely sirens are.

James returns 15 minutes later, and I ask him how was his “lapper” with the brunette.

“Sucked. She sort of writhed and hovered over me, and there was no touching.”

“Welcome to an upscale gentleman’s club, James. You can get tossed for touching in this place.”

I can tell James is disappointed with what we’ve experienced thus far. We throw back a few beers and the good news is, neither of us was drunk. I tell him that even though I had to let my friend Johnny R go because of his multiple addictions and failure, the guy was right. He never wanted to come to Delilah’s. He always preferred the Gold Club in the center city because he liked its authenticity. It doesn’t pretend to be a classy joint like this place does. It knows it’s a sleazy strip club and it does it well. The girls are average and very friendly, the day shift is a little scary, but at least they’re truthful with what they provide and what they are.

By the end of the night, we were approaching the 2 am witching hour and last call. James was determined to spend some money apparently and stay in the spirit of things. He was crumbling up bills and tossing them onto the stage. At one point he went to the edge of the stage and just laid out money along the edge. It was all one-dollar bills but he seemed to be enjoying himself despite the grinding disappointment of this place and their ilk.

He encouraged me to do the same so I placed 2 bills on the edge of the stage. God, I hate these places but I love James, so who cares. We had a fun night out. I took a LYFT home and he was within walking distance of his house so he headed home.

When I get home, I notice my clothes smelled of cigarette and cigar smoke and I reek of cheap perfume. Hopefully, a hot shower will wash the stench from me, but sadly the women that work there can’t wash off that kind of a shame.

And the best part? I got a colorful story out of it, and when I checked my wallet the next morning  I still had most of my money! I had $38 in ones and $40 in twenties, so at least I didn’t get fleeced last night!

The only thing is, I didn’t have a migraine the next day, but all those rich cocktails did give me a headache for the rest of the day, and my stomach has been a little shakey for two days.

I’m getting too old for this rich life, but I’m having fun doing it. I think next time we go out, I’ll stick to spiked seltzers, lots of water, and some good food to sop up the booze.

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

You can check out my books here: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=charles+wiedenmann&ref=nb_sb_noss_1

Sex Worker Reveals What It’s Really Like To Be A Stripper & Prostitute

Here’s a submission from one of my readers. Enjoy!

Stripping and prostitution aren’t all bad, but sex work is no walk in the park.

Being a sex worker can be a blast.

Easy money that’s fun to make. Partying for a living. Getting a great workout, and sometimes even having great sex, on the job. Going to great restaurants and staying at nice hotels on someone else’s dime. Meeting lots of cool people and making them feel great. Fulfilling clients’ fantasies while escaping your own troubles. Having the opportunity to travel all over the country and even the world, while remaining gainfully employed and recouping any costs incurred.

One of the biggest perks working as a stripper and prostitute is the high earning-to-time-expended ratio.

Students, single moms, and aspiring artists can literally buy themselves time to live the other aspects of their lives, such as supporting dependents and pursuing higher education.

Writing has always been my greatest talent, and I have a sensitive writer’s temperament. Stripping and escorting have helped inspire and sustain my writing, but they’ve also exposed me to genuinely heartbreaking things.

Sure, there are things about stripping and escorting that irritate me — like people not tipping at the stage when I’m working the pole hard and Johns canceling appointments last minute — but then there are things that have an emotional impact on me as well.

Here are the ten most heartbreaking aspects of being a sex worker.

1. We see clients (mainly men) at their most vulnerable.

Guys really spill their guts to you and it can be quite draining. Sometimes you just smile and nod at inane rambling, but other times the conversation gets pretty damn real.

You see guys who are mentally disturbed, addicts, and physically disabled. But most of all, you see guys who want to vent about their marriage issues or drink their pain away, using you as an enabler.

2. Law enforcement treats murdered or raped sex workers as sub-human.

There’s a degrading expression among cops. The term “no human involved” (NHI) is utilized when a murder victim is a sex worker, especially if the victim is a trans woman of color.

We don’t get the Natalee Holloway media treatment if we go missing. And crimes against only make the news when someone famous — like Eliot Spitzer, Charlie Sheen, or an intriguing serial killer — is involved.

3. Feminists don’t have our backs and drown out our voices with their own.

I’m a bit sick of Tina Fey being lauded as a feminist when she thrives on jokes that shame and dehumanize sex workers.

If you watch “30 Rock” or read her book “Bossypants” from a sex workers’ point of view, you’d be shocked by how little she thinks of us. Other feminists who hold higher degrees and teach at prestigious institutions have gotten the general public, federal government, and chief executive officer himself on board with the conflation of sex trafficking and consensual sex work.

You’ve noticed what a trendy topic sex trafficking (modern slavery) is, right? It’s really hit the mainstream, but feminists, law enforcement, and federal lawmakers don’t have a damn clue how to actually distinguish voluntary sex workers from exploited trafficking victims.

Instead, by enacting bills like FOSTA-SESTA, they’re letting the bad apples make it harder for the rest of us to do things such as bank and avoid housing discrimination.

4. We are disenfranchised from mainstream society.

A few years back, Chase Bank was accused of shutting down the bank accounts of adult entertainers and their spouses, even when the work they do is legal.

When porn star Teagan Presley received a letter from Chase saying accounts belonging to herself and her husband were being closed, she was told in person by someone at the bank it was because she was deemed to be “high risk.”

Soon after, Frank Keating, CEO of the American Bankers Association, wrote an op-ed for the Wall Street Journal in which he claimed the US Department of Justice was actively involved in the situation.

“Operation Choke Point,” he wrote, “is asking banks to identify customers who may be breaking the law or simply doing something government officials don’t like … Banks must then ‘choke off’ those customers’ access to financial services, shutting down their accounts.”

Sex workers have used other services like Paypal, Bitcoin, GreenDot Cards, MoneyPaks, and more to obtain deposits from clients, and law enforcement keeps catching on to us and shutting down various resources. The closures of Craigslist’s adult section, Backpage, and websites like MyRedbook (where sex workers could advertise), have forced some of us onto the streets to survive.

Federal authorities portray these moves as ways to protect underage sex trafficking victims and bust money-laundering pimps, but what they really do is endanger consenting sex workers who are of age and willingly involved in the industry in the process. This kind of discrimination is why a lot of us, including myself for a time, literally live out of hotels.

5. We will forever be defined by our time as sex workers.

I’m not fame-obsessed like most Americans. I don’t care about celebrities and I don’t care to become one. However, now that I’ve worked not only as a stripper but as a full-blown hooker, I’m terrified of becoming a successful writer or public figure. I’m worried that a single Tweet or viral blog post could put me under the microscope and do me in.

Aside from certain careers where a sex worker’s past isn’t such a big deal, our career options can be severely limited for the rest of our lives.

People like writer and producer Diablo Cody (whose real name is Brook Maurio) are burdened with having to forever field interview questions about stripping. Olympic runner Suzy Favor Hamilton, who briefly worked as an escort, had her name stripped from the Big Ten female athlete of the year award and has been burdened with having to explain that part of her life using another stigmatized subject, mental health, to explain her actions and make them somewhat more acceptable to society.

6. We watch people do themselves in with drug addictions.

You meet a great deal of proud recovering alcoholics and addicts as a sex worker, but you also meet tons of clients and colleagues looking for an enabler or looking for a place to drink or do drugs with someone.

I lost one stripper friend to a heroin overdose, and she had a somewhat rapid unraveling. Her first relapse was booze, and the needle soon followed.

Hearing girls in the dressing room boast about being off “H” for a few days was depressing, to say the least, as was seeing others zoned out of their mind on Xanax or booze, moving about like numb zombies.

I’ve personally abused Adderall when stripping, causing me to act strung out, and I’ll see people taking higher-stakes chances with their lives.

I’ve tried to help out strippers who were living out of hotels by offering them accommodations with me or offering to loan them the house free for the night. It’s draining to repeatedly try in vain to help people who won’t help themselves.

7. We lead double lives and have to lie all the time.

There are some out and proud prostitutes, while others have been outed against their will.

Lying is both exhausting and something that doesn’t come easily to me. I gloss over discussions of work with my family and steer conversations toward my hobbies, volunteering, and culture consumption, and inquiries about other family members.

When it comes to dating, I’ve disclosed to several men that I stripped (and even met some men I’ve dated at the clubs), but I’ve never disclosed being an escort to any guy. Not getting really serious with guys is a defense mechanism; I fear domestic violence or retribution like online shaming.

On a day-to-day basis, I’m always fudging my work situation a bit, sometimes in front of people who know the truth. These days, I’ve made progress proving to my family that my mental health has improved and is being better managed; however, it’s hard to have the weight of hypocrisy on my shoulders as I lie about my main source of income.

8. There’s rampant racism.

There is tremendous pressure for escorts to lower their price points and sell themselves short, thanks to the internet keeping prices competitive, just like it does for other industries.

And as is the case in other fields, minority women are often under more pressure to resort to this than their white counterparts.

When I work at the strip club, it seems like guys consider the minority girls more “attainable” if they’re thinking strictly with their penises. On the flip side, tons of white escorts have “No Blacks Allowed” policies, in the same way, many escorts don’t “see” men under 30.

While I’m all about sex workers setting and maintaining their own boundaries, having a blanket “No Blacks Allowed” policy seems a tad overzealous.

I admit I’m guilty of racism at times. I too often ignore black customers at the strip club, even when there are no other customers or I’ve already tried all the others. I’ll sometimes roll my eyes when young minority men get bottle service and make it rain on the big booty girl, while not tipping me a single dollar for hanging upside down on a 20-foot pole.

9. People feel entitled to our bodies outside of respectful parameters.

I refuse to work at full-nude strip clubs and was reminded why the other night when both of my first two lap dance recipients tried to sneak their hands under my thong.

There are a ton of guys out there who think buying a $20 lap dance entitles them to finger us, touch our breasts, whip their penises out, or even get a quick blowjob or handjob.

Before switching to escorting, I remember a guy ejaculating after two lap dances and thinking to myself, “How is getting a guy off for $40 any better than turning a cheap trick? If I’m going to get guys off, I should charge what an intellectual college grad deserves.”

All sex workers have different boundaries, but guys seem to find out what they are by crossing them instead of asking first.

As a whore, I provide companionship with a side of mostly vanilla sex acts for money. If a client forces anal sex on me, that’s a form of rape. If he forces sex without a condom on me, that’s a form of rape. If he threatens to write a bad review about me if I don’t perform a certain sex act or forego a condom, that’s a form of rape.

I’m usually able to use the internet to weed out bad guys, but this behavior knows no class or race.

10. There’s constant cyber-bullying.

A website called The Erotic Review is my arch-nemesis. Since I began escorting in 2010, that site has gotten even worse at bullying escorts into compromising our boundaries, namely whether or not we allow reviews and how we let the threat of bad reviews impact our appointments, our price points, and our-self esteem.

To earn a 10/10 on “performance,” unsafe sex is required. The term “BBBJ” (bareback blow job, i.e. condomless) is extremely in demand, and that was bad enough, but now clients can report when girls allow “BBFS” (bareback full service, as in condomless sex, and perhaps even condomless anal sex).

Girls who are naive, uneducated, or who rely on sites like these for free advertising pander to these jerks and escort agencies only contribute to the problem. Guys who pay less expect more, and they complain when they don’t get it. Guys who pay more tend to be more discreet.

I’ve worked with four agencies, all female-owned, and found that the owners are invariably in it for themselves, which means offering competitive prices and catering to review board culture. Thankfully, my agency work has never compromised my independent brand.

 

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

You can check out my books here: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=charles+wiedenmann&ref=nb_sb_noss_1

10 Reasons To Date A Redhead

In a study done at The University of Hamburg, it was discovered that redhead ladies love getting hot in the bedroom department more than women with any other hair colour. You heard right guys!

Redheads tend to have a soft milky complexion, which means they not only look stunning but they feel great to cuddle up to.

This summer freckles have been a beauty trend, people have actually been drawing them on! If you are lucky enough to date a redhead then the sun will bring out totally natural and beautiful freckles.

Redheads make up 5% of the world’s population. This makes them pretty unique compared to the rest of us.

If you are lucky enough to date a redhead with blue eyes you have struck gold as this is a very rare combo! It might be time to buy a lottery ticket…

You will never have to worry about them losing their vibrant hair colour as natural red hair doesn’t grey like other colours of hair.

The fea­r of losing your date in a busy crowd will become a thing of the past if you are dating a redhead. Their fiery locks will always let you know where they are!

If you love to have a good laugh on a date then redheads are for you. Due to being teased at school, they tend to develop a good sense of humour.

Red hair has become rather popular in recent years with lots of people faking it. Think how good you will feel knowing you are dating the real deal!

Redheads are so awesome that they are celebrated all over the world by entire days dedicated to them.

So to conclude, redheads are feisty, sexy, funny, rare and we LOVE them!

 

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

You can check out my books here: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=charles+wiedenmann&ref=nb_sb_noss_1

5 Signs It Isn’t Love, Even If They Say Otherwise

Early red flags in a relationship that your partner is not in love, even though they say ‘I love you’

Oh what’s love got to do, got to do with it
What’s love but a second hand emotion
What’s love got to do, got to do with it
Who needs a heart
When a heart can be broken

—Tina Turner, What’s Love Got to Do With It

Ah … love.

I could end the post right here and you would all know what I mean. No more words are needed to describe that slightly insane, crazy-good feeling.

The force behind Shakespeare’s sonnets and the inspiration for countless heartfelt and wrenchingly bad amateur poems. The impetus for infidelity, the catalyst for the Trojan War.

How we long to hear those three sweet words whispered in our ear, written on a perfumed note, texted with a makeshift symbol <3, or broadcast to the world with skywriting.

When we start a promising new relationship, our hearts tremble in anticipation, wondering if–or when—the love bomb will drop, and who will be the first to drop it.

Enough already. We either feel it or we don’t, right? Well, if you’re a self-aware person with standards for what you want in a partner and a healthy respect for other people’s feelings, that’s an accurate statement.

But not everyone has it together when it comes to relationships, and a potential partner’s emotional disorganization can cause huge problems once the bomb bay doors have opened and “love” is in the air.

Here are five warning signs that what your partner feels for you isn’t love, even though he or she is saying, “I love you.”

They’re not the obvious ones we’re all familiar with: abuse (emotional or physical), disrespect, manipulation and control, intense neediness, and hero worship, among others.

These signs are more subtle and can easily be misinterpreted as real love, because they feed the part of our ego that craves to be adored and accepted, the part that still searches for the soul-nurturing love provided by an emotionally healthy parent (or not provided by an emotionally disordered one).

Unlike the red flags that feel wrong, these signals feel right, because they feel good and enable us to indulge our love of … love.

1. Too soon.

To know me is to love me … said the narcissist to anyone who can be forced to listen.

But the truth is the reverse. To love someone is to know the person, to have achieved a level of emotional intimacy and to accept the person underneath the hair and skin.

Love is both a feeling and a commitment, both emotion and action, both noun and verb. It is not something that develops instantly or even after spending a number of ecstatic hours with someone over a few weeks time.

Love, at first sight, is a potent combination of curiosity and lust, and the feeling we experience after meeting someone we are both attracted to and click with is infatuation.

If your partner says I love you too soon, it’s a good bet he doesn’t know himself or his feelings, or she wants to be in love more than she wants you specifically. So watch out for early professions of undying affection.

2. Too much.

You would think you could never hear the words “I love you” too many times from your lover.

But a compulsive need to confirm love feelings is not sweet; it’s indicative of potentially dangerous emotional issues, and if you need to hear it every 20 minutes or 20 times a day, you’ve got issues of your own.

One reason partners keep saying “I love you” is insecurity. They repeat the words to hear them back from you and dispel any doubt.

Another is a lack of emotional integrity. Your partner may be faking it until he or she makes it, using the constant repetition to convince him or herself of feelings he or she doesn’t actually feel but is hoping will develop in time.

The third and most problematic reason your partner may bombard you with the love bomb is to guilt you into expressing reciprocal feelings you may not actually have. There’s no greater relationship killer than one person saying, “I love you,” and the other not saying it back.

Whatever the underlying explanation, when someone says “I love you” too much, that person is putting his or her feelings above yours and is likely to do that throughout the relationship.

3. Too physical.

 The sad fact is, our bodies change as we get older, while the person we are inside may grow intellectually and emotionally but remains essentially the same.

If your partner only says I love you when giving or receiving physical affection (or as a precursor to sex) or only attaches love statements to your physical features, you could be in trouble down the road.

Your partner may love to be with you, and specifically to sleep with you, in your current physical form, but that “love” may wane as age and time take their toll.

Simply asking the question, “Will you love me when I’m 60 or when I’m old and gray,” won’t help much, because you’ll simply hear, “Of course.”

Try counting the number of times you hear “I love you” after you’ve said something intelligent, do something your partner feels proud of, or—and this is a tough test for anyone to pass—when you’ve just stood up for yourself.

4. Too compatible.

It’s amazing. Your partner loves everything you love.

The same foods, the same books, the same movies, the same interior design. You never—not just rarely but never—disagree on any choices.

The words, “No thanks, I’d rather,” are not part of your vocabulary.

Some, even a lot, of shared interests and tastes is natural; it’s one of the things that attract you to each other. But unless you’re dating a clone of yourself, each partner should have distinct interests and tastes of his or her own.

When everything matches to a tee, it’s called mirroring, and you may be doing it as well as your partner. Psychopaths mirror to draw victims into relationships by making them think they’ve found the perfect mate.

You may not be dealing with a psychopath, but you may also be unaware of your partner’s real likes and dislikes, because he or she is not sharing them for fear of rocking the boat or because it would puncture the illusion of perfection.

Suppressing disagreement also leads to resentment. The places you need to be compatible are your values, your goals, and your parenting philosophy if you’re planning to have kids. Other than that, vive la différence!

5. Too tight.

 I’m not talking about something not fitting properly here. I’m talking about a partner being so consumed with the idea of an “us” that he or she forgets there is you.

If you find your partner frequently singing your virtues as a couple or always talking about how great you are together, he or she may be indulging the fantasy of being in a relationship without experiencing either the actual relationship or you as a person.

Us comprises two independent people who choose to be together, to bring their individual selves into concert with one another.

If your partner surrenders his or her individuality without a fight or even a whimper, you may be with someone whose psychological integrity is compromised and who will ultimately define his or her identity around the relationship.

This makes it harder for you to leave if you choose to, because severing the bond destroys the identity your partner has built around it.

The “us” that you become with a partner develops out of the ways the two of you connect and find common ground. Celebrating the “us” before you’re really a couple is a sign of insecurity and desperation.

Now that you know what to look for, you can enjoy a sincerely spoken “I love you,” or the words lit on fire by the side of the road, even more.

 

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

You can check out my books here: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=charles+wiedenmann&ref=nb_sb_noss_1

What Happens After Sleeping With A Guy Too Soon

Does having sex for the first time with him too soon send the wrong message?

In a new relationship, there’s a big temptation to have sex for the first time right off the bat.

But both conventional wisdom and experience show that having sex too soon increases the likelihood of ruining a potential relationship.

Yet if you’ve fallen into the sticky trap of sleeping with someone too soon, even knowing that it’s not in your best interest, you may have:

  • Gotten caught up in the moment
  • Mistaken sexual chemistry for more than what it is
  • Craved intimacy
  • Had sex for validation after a breakup or a dry spell
  • Used sex as leverage
  • I Felt pressured and wanted to please the guy
  • Believed you could have a no-strings-attached relationship, only to later want a real boyfriend-girlfriend relationship
  • Thought you were the exception

Having sex too soon is actually fine — just make sure that of you have the same understanding of the nature of your relationship.

But if you want a real, long-term, and committed relationship, having sex too soon sends the wrong signal to the guys you date.

What Happens After Having Sex With A Guy Too Soon

Hollywood movies perpetuate the fairy tale version of having sex too soon — girl meets boy, they have sex early on, something happens to tear them apart, and then the boy comes back for the girl.

In these fantasy movies, one-night stands become real relationships. We buy into the fantasy that having premature sex doesn’t ruin a relationship when real life consistently shows us otherwise.

Are you thinking, “But I know a woman who has slept with a guy early on, and she’s now married to him!”

Yes, it is possible to have sex with a guy too soon and have it turn into a lasting relationship. But this is the exception, and it’s important to recognize that.

When you presume you’re the exception, you do a disservice to yourself.

It’s in your best interest to act like you’re the rule and be pleasantly surprised if things work out differently.

Having sex too soon and hoping it will lead to a commitment is trading short-term urges for long-term desires.

When a guy acts on his biological urge and you perceive it as love, feelings of doubt and confusion will set in.

You may ask yourself “Did I do the right or wrong thing?” or “Where do I stand with this guy?”

If you like him a lot, you’ll behave and act in unflattering and desperate ways. Your self-esteem will take a hit because you’ll have compromised your values and integrity to get him to desire you on a deeper level. In hindsight, these will be some of your most cringe-worthy moments.

If you find yourself in this situation, it’s okay. The more important thing is to learn and grow from these experiences.

What You Can Do To Keep His Interest — Instead Of Having Sex

Don’t let a man who just wants to have sex with you pressure you into sleeping with him early on. It doesn’t make him a bad guy if he wants to have sex with you — he is just being a guy, and many women let him get away with it.

Don’t be a woman who has sex with a guy thinking that physicality will keep his interest. Most men seek sex for immediate physical gratification.

Here’s the good news: the beauty of being a woman is helping him see sex as more than a physical sensation. Set the pace by having sex only when you feel comfortable and ready.

Setting the pace isn’t about playing games. It’s about knowing what you want (i.e. a real relationship), then behaving and acting in ways that align with what you desire. If there’s a guy you’re interested in, let him woo you.

Take the time to learn about each other.

Discover what his values are, the kind of relationships he has with family and friends, how he views his job, life, and the world, why previous relationships haven’t worked out, etc.

Let him learn who you are, what you’re about, what you love, and what’s most important to you.

If he wants to have sex before you’re ready, and the thought of being intimate with him appeals to you, you can acknowledge what he wants by saying something like, “I like who you are and want to continue to learn more about you. If things keep going in this direction with our dates, I can definitely see us being intimate.”

If a guy doesn’t stick around because you’re not having sex when he wants it, he is not the one for you.

A high-quality man who really likes you will respect your wishes and wait for you.

The Ideal Time For Having Sex With A Guy

So when you sleep with a guy? A one-size-fits-all answer does not exist. However, there are signs that point to the ideal time for having sex with a potential partner.

  • You connect on many levels
  • You feel good about yourself when you’re around him
  • You like who he is
  • You respect him
  • He treats you with respect
  • He does what he says he’s going to do
  • He’s not having sex with anyone else
  • There are no exes or women from the past in the picture
  • You both want the same kind of relationship
  • He is the kind of man you could see being in a real relationship with
  • Sex feels like the next natural progression
  • If you have sex, despite what happens, you’ll have no regrets

Ultimately, having sex too soon rarely turns dates into a relationship.

Send the right signals to guys you date by slowing things down until you learn you’re truly compatible. When the time is right, the sex you have will be meaningful and more fulfilling on multiple levels.

Remember, a high-quality man will respect your wishes and wait until you are ready to have sex.

 

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

You can check out my books here: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=charles+wiedenmann&ref=nb_sb_noss_1

%d bloggers like this: