Philly for a Philly

I mentioned in last time’s disaster that I was taking a trip to Philly for business.  They say it’s unwise to shit where you eat, but the jury’s still out on eating where I shit.  And I’m ready for that business dinner.

In Fall 2017 I’m making some last-minute preparations for Philly, flab-free, with my perfect road companion: Tinder.  Tinder is set up to tell you how far away someone is, but just in terms of miles/distance.  Bumble will actually tell you the miles and the exact location of someone.  That would be nice.  But, this was not a trip for Bumble, though; this was a mission designed entirely for Tinder.

So, I needed to do a little pre-game research: Ideally, I’d set up a conversation while I was still in Jersey that would dovetail perfectly into a meet up.  My first attempt at the research didn’t go so well, however:

She was actually in New York; about equidistant to Philly from my location.  Next up I did find me a Philly, but not the one I was looking for:

LOL!  Joke/not joke?  A little too heavy for me to try to figure out.

So, pre-gaming was not so successful.  Let’s see what Philly on foot has to offer for me.  Apparently, not much, as I forgot about this city’s annoying little problem, and was reminded about its brotherly love:

I returned to my hotel room to lie down and needed some comedy to unwind:

This young lady seems a little confused.  And I’m all about helping her out.

A few more swipes and, viola, wake up to this in the morning:

The parameters of this mission are tight though (2 nights, 3 tops), making meeting business objectives difficult:

I almost forgot: There was also the event itself—a two-day professional development conference that I spent good money to attend, where I could spend 1% of my attention being professionally developed, and 99% paying attention to the girls.  Day one brought me this:

There wasn’t just the 22 year old that I struck up on a conversation with.  There was also a much greater prize that I noticed also.  But, for now, I’ll have to remain reserved.

On my second night in Philly I continued to pound the pavement looking for something else to pound, when I came across something of note on my Tinder machine.  While I’m sitting at a bar, not at all interested in the female candidates there, or anywhere for that matter, I open my app and see someone who I matched with last year:

And, so, the convo resumed:

She is hilarious.  And apparently amnesic.  It gets even funnier:

So, as I come to find out, this philly has the same exact name as The Wife’s grandmother.  Nothing like a little GILF sex to notch on my belt.

So, while we were catching up, there was still that business about the conference:

I was clearly only talking about the lecturers.  Because on conference day 1 I was sitting next to a cute, very sexy, very skinny, VYW who had some roots in Portugal.  She was a grad student who was on assignment.  So was I.  I gave her my business card and told her to hit me up if she wanted to hang out.  But then, that aforementioned ‘much greater prize’ reappeared.  The eagle has landed.  Now a strategy to capture it:

With the eagle in the crosshairs on day 2, I feed it the bait:

And hopped through the escape hatch to meet The Greek in Morristown.  With no immediate returns on my business cards, the bar scene looking like a lady wasteland, and the Tinder Philly girl unable to meet up, there would be no day 3 in this dump:

I land in Morristown.  And, of all things, I get a hit on the 22-year-old from the conference!  Timing is everything: If she had just texted me an hour earlier I would’ve stayed in the city another night:

She happened to be a bartender at Newark Airport also, and we all know I have a thing for bartenders:

But, why eat chicken, when you can have eagle.  I’m literally amazed:

While Philly is a little over an hour from me to drive, she would be worth the drive.  She has it all: From the looks to…the attitude:

Well, that didn’t go so well lol.  Naturally, I ran the whole thing by Blart, master of the ladyverse:

And showed the girls:

Oh well, when you can’t eat filet, you can always settle for Hamburger Helper:

The 22 year old?

Or the Tinder girl?

One of these two girls will emerge from the wreckage.  I know one is already in the ass market, and I do have a score to settle with her, but we’ll tune back later to her.  For now, let’s check back in with my two girlfriends.



I’m a divorced dude living and dating in New Jersey. This blog is my story told through a first-person view of my text messages to my friends and/about my dates.