Phil Torcivia's Blog, page 7

I don't care if you have a boyfriend.

I must have F-me eyes. While involved in a casual conversation with a lady, if she has a boyfriend, she'll usually mention him within ten minutes. This annoys me. She should save that little ditty until after I have asked her out. By using the B-word before I express my interest, she is being presumptuous.



Case in point:


While giving me a trim, my barber happened (and you have no idea how rare this is) to be an attractive female. I gave her minor direction: short on the sides, blend in the top, and the rest is up to you since you're the expert. The topic of tequila came up in discussion and I mentioned I had tried coconut tequila for the first time the night before. She responded with, "My boyfriend and I did shots of that last night too."



Do I give a fuckity fuck who did shots with her? Nope. That annoying appendage (boyfriend) has no place in our discussion. Hence, I didn't hear what she said; I heard:


Look, Assface, you're paying me to cut your hair. Don't try to flirt with me because I'm not going to sleep with you. I'll do you the courtesy of hinting that the reason is because my vagina is currently occupied by another man who may or may not be superior to you, depending on what angle is taken. In actuality, I'm not attracted to you and wouldn't mate with you even if I had a fifth of tequila, a deep itch, and a dark room. Now, can I please finish mowing your head lawn so I can collect your three-dollar tip and move on to the next balding creeper.



To defend my honor, I should have replied:


That's so nice for you that you have a boyfriend. Believe it or not, unoccupied vaginas come a dime two dozen, so yours isn't so precious. If you were single, sure, I'd probably offer to give you a deep dicking, but all I'm concerned with at this moment is that the back of my neck is cleaned up and you're exceptionally careful with how you handle that straight edge. I will generously extend a twenty percent tip and, if you don't appreciate it, you'll not have another shot at my scalp. May the next man you trim be eighty, smell of gouda, and I hope be yanks his carrot under this stupid cape while you rush to complete your job before he completes his.



Please keep your boyfriend to yourself. Good day.

How to benefit from the Fifty Shades craze.

On Sale Now -$2.99

The three E. L. James books in the Fifty Shades series now occupy positions one through three in Amazon's Kindle bestsellers. The books have been described as "mommy porn," which I find pretty accurate after having read the first one. Face it: a man's pleasure points are accessed through the eyes, whereas a woman's pleasure points are accessed through the ears. These books are laser-targeted at the ear clitoris.



Whenever I see a craze coming or happening, I investigate why and then look for a way to leverage it. That's why I wrote a parody, Fifty Shades of Silver Hair and Socks, and rushed to publish it (twenty days from thought to sale).



Why are these books selling faster than lip gloss and sparkled jeans?


There are numerous sexually neglected or dissatisfied women around--this includes married ones. Men aren't putting in the effort (foreplay, oral, proper courtship) they used to, nor the time required to level off the orgasm seesaw.
Women relate to and long for Ana's innocence.
Big mystery, money, and manhood make for an irresistible man.
People often buy a thing because people are buying the thing.

What's with the ratings, and why are the second and third book rated so much higher?


The ratings on the first book are polar. Like the movies Fight Club and Pulp Fiction, people either love it or hate it. People who are indifferent rarely bother to take the time to say so.
Anyone who struggled to make it through the first book would have no reason to invest $10 in either of the next two. The first book acts like a filter.

Why don't men appreciate the books?


They're unrealistic to the point of being ridiculous.
Although women believe (and some men say) that men prefer a virginal lover, nothing is further from the truth. Sex with an inexperienced woman is as much fun as golfing with someone who has never swung a golf club. Men want a skilled lover without knowing the specifics around how those skills were acquired. (Just tell him you learned by reading books.)
Most men can't fathom being physically rough with a woman. It's just not how a proper gentleman is wired (let's hope).
SPOILER ALERT: At one point, Christian insists on getting it on, although Ana is having a visit from Aunt Flo. So, she allows him to grab the rip cord and remove Aunt Flo's luggage and then proceeds to create rust stains. Gross! Ladies, your man will have sex with you while Aunt Flo is around, but he prefers to not hear about her until after.

Like any opportunist, I long to ride E. L. James' coattails. Some writers will sniff at that, and to those I offer no apology; I have bills to pay. My goals with the parody were:


Write and publish it quickly before the hype subsides.
Make it sexy AND funny, without being long-winded. Nobody is going to masturbate to my book, so I don't need to drivel on for pages with explicit sexual details.
Insert as many kinky, yet realistic situations as possible.
Gather feedback from my blog, Facebook, and Twitter followers.
Have it edited quickly.
Sell it cheaply.
Give away as many copies as possible. (Email me at ptorcivia@gmail.com and I'll send you a free copy.)
Plan on writing sequels, if this one sells.

Well, my book released today. It's $2.99 on Kindle and $5.99 in paperback. Amazon is going to make it free as part of their KDP Select program from May 13-17. Check it out and tell me what you think of the strategy by commenting here.

Your Guide to Group Dates

With all the disappointment surrounding most one-on-one internet-arranged blind dates, let's welcome a new way to meet people: group dates. Think of this as the buffet of the dating world. Instead of being stuck with a meal (mate) the waiter (website) recommends because it's about to spoil (hasn't been laid since white belts were cool), you can browse the buffet until you satisfy your appetite.



Typical complaints I hear regarding dates arranged by traditional dating sites include:


He was ten years older than he claimed--maybe twenty.
She was twenty pounds heavier than she claimed--maybe thirty.
He was four inches shorter than he claimed.
She had ass breath.
He wore leather sandals.
She downed four drinks before dinner.
He must have showered in cheap cologne. I smelled him from the parking lot.
She spent most of the date staring at her iPhone.
He was expecting to have sex after dinner.
She had man hands.



This can all be avoided on the group date. When stuck next to a dud, excuse yourself and move down the buffet to the next item, Sugarsnack. Keep in mind there's a certain decorum required in the group date atmosphere. It's not quite as awkward as the one-on-one date, but you don't want to show up unprepared. Let me help.



Date preparation do:


Cleanse thyself.
Trim your fucking nails. (Sorry, that's a pinch point ... in fact, "pinch point" is a pinch point.)
Mute your phone.
Iron that top--sleeves too.
Whiten dem teefs.

Date preparation do NOT:


Eat garlic within 24 hours.
Pre-Stalk the attendees.
Ride a bike to the date, unless the date involves a bike ride, in which case, why are you going on that date?
Be the first to arrive.
Wear all white or all black.

During the group date, do:


Smile.
Ask others about their interests.
Laugh at jokes, even when not funny.
Pull chairs out for ladies.
Be subtle when checking out boobs, butts, hand sizes, etc.

During the group date, do NOT:


Avoid alcohol, but don't get shickered (yes, that's a word) either.
Begin every sentence with "I ...".
Attempt to play footsies.
Allow rivals to know your target.
Talk about Jesus, Romney, your roommates, prison, or that "thing" you had removed.

After the date, do:


Tell people it was nice meeting them, without asking if you can mate soon.
Keep a positive attitude. Consider it a success, even when no condoms are involved.
A little research by Googling those who grabbed your interest. If you find a lovely picture and have an irresistible urge to release yourself, please close the blinds and never confess it.
Tip generously.
Hold the door for ladies.

After the date, do NOT:


Suggest a nightcap in a hot tub.
Let anyone see you get on the bus or in your car if it is a beater.
Spoil the fact that you were fortunate to receive a phone number by texting something corny on the way home. 
Expect a marriage proposal.
Give up. Keep hitting that buffet, Babycakes.

Fifty Shades of Silver Hair and Socks - Chapter 20

Trevor
leads me out to the field and we stand by the dugout while the National
Anthem plays. I glance toward our seats in the stands, looking for Bea.
I don't see her. When the song ends, Trevor slaps the ball into my
glove.



"Go get her."



Her?



The scoreboard shows "Tonight's first pitch will be thrown by Mormon Silver." What a rush!



I
jog across the pristine grass to the mound before thousands of fans.
When I turn toward home plate, there's no catcher. I look at Trevor. He
smiles as the announcer chimes in over the loudspeaker.



"Ladies
and gentleman, here to throw out the ceremonial first pitch is local
writer, Mormon Silver. Here, as the first woman ever to catch a first
pitch, is local celebrity, Bea Plastique." 



No way.



Bea
jogs out to the field. She has a catcher's mask on with a cute little
Padres jersey, white baseball pants rolled up, and high, silver argyle
socks. I shake my head. She slaps the mitt and crouches. She winks and
smiles as she puts one finger down, giving me the sign to throw a
fastball. I prefer something different.



The time is right.



I
go into a wind up, kick my left leg, land, and throw the ball over the
backstop, as high into the stadium as possible. The crowd gasps and
laughs. Bea stands and turns to watch the ball sail up over the press
box. She removes her mask as I approach her.



"Hey, Lovergirl."

"What the heck was that? You suck as a pitcher."

"Do I?"

"That had to be the wildest pitch ever thrown."



I laugh as I reach into my pocket.



"Here comes an even wilder one. Catch."



I
toss the ring case to her. She catches it and looks at me puzzled. I
meet her at the plate, and lower myself—getting my right knee dirty as
Mom instructed. Bea gasps, drops the mask and mitt, and opens the ring
case. I remove my mother's engagement ring and take Bea's left hand.



"I love you, Lovergirl. I want to spend the rest of my life playing games with you. Will you marry me?"

"YES!"




THE BEGINNING.

Fifty Shades of Silver Hair and Socks - Chapter 19

She sneaks away in the morning before I wake next to a warm spot. As I turn on the coffee machine, I notice a note on my kitchen nook.



Mormon, please meet me at the Padres' game tonight, 6:30. I think you'll love the seats. Bea.



I had not been to a game recently, so I was excited to go. This might be a perfect opportunity to ... hm. When I arrive at the stadium, she texts me that she's already inside so I head to the gate. When they scan my ticket, the rep pulls me aside.



"Please wait here, Mr. Silver."

"Is there a problem?"

"No, not at all."



The rep turned away and said a few things into his transmitter.



"See that door at the base of the steps over there?"

"Yes."

"Please wait there. Someone will come out to greet you."

"Fine." What is she up to now?



After a few minutes the door swings open.



"Hello, Mr. Silver, I'm Trevor Hoffman."

"Holy shit! Sorry. It's great to meet you. Call me Mormon." I shake hands with the future Hall of Fame pitcher. Some fans see him and yell.

"Come on in."



I follow Trevor into the underbelly of the stadium.



"So, are you excited?"

"Heck yes. I was here for your five-hundredth save."

"Cool. Have you ever done this before?" Trevor asks as he leads me into a cage area and hands me a glove.

"What's this?"

"You need to warm up," he insists as he lifts the cage netting for us to enter.

"You're going to play catch with me?"

"Sure. You don't want to go out there cold."

"Out where?"

"Dude, you're throwing out the first pitch. Didn't anyone tell you?"

"Fuck."



The nerves set in and my stomach cramps a bit while playing catch with Trevor.



"My girl set this whole thing up as a surprise for me."

"Damn. Well done on her part."

"No kidding. She's different, but I love her."

"Different is good," Trevor concurs as he throw me a change-up that completely fools me and flies beneath my glove, between my legs, to the net.

"Wow."

"I could never throw as hard as most of the pitchers in the league, but by being different, I was able to succeed. If your woman is different, embrace her."

"Oh, I plan to. I also have a little surprise for her."

"Good!"



(dreams sometimes do come true)

Fifty Shades of Silver Hair and Socks - Chapter 18

I shake hands and part amicably with Uncle Tom. I understand a bit more about Lovergirl, but I'm not sure if a genuine relationship with her is possible. Her texts come in; I ignore them, unsure if I'm ready to discuss her latest shenanigans. Even Eric calls and leaves a message, checking if I'm alive. I text him back saying I'm fine and just need some solo time.



That night, while discussing my predicament with my good buddy, Jim Beam, I glance around the bar at other options--none of whom excite me in the slightest. I miss her.



Later, I catch up on my blogging duties and go to bed early. While soundly asleep I begin dreaming of Lovergirl and feel her enveloping me like a huge wave with an undertow. She's dragging me out to sea with her. I don't fight it. Then, I hear her whisper ...



"Hello, Uncle M."

She's here!

"Jesus, Bea."

"Miss me? I was worried about you."

"Yes, of course I miss you," I confess as I turn over and draw her near. She's completely naked and trembling slightly. "You're freezing."

"Warm me up, my love."

I push away a bit.

"That was fucking twisted what you put me through on that flight."

"Sorry."

"Are you? It hasn't been easy for me to deal with meeting the infamous Uncle Tom. Are you fantasizing about being with him when you're with Uncle M?"

"No, Mormon. Never. You wanted to know more about me and I always knew this thing in my past was going to eventually rear itself. I had to see if you could deal with it before I fell for you further."

"I was angry with him when I realized who he was, but it turns out he's a sad man who is paying dearly for a mistake."

"It happened. I don't see it as a mistake. Love has its own rules. True, I was young and impressionable, and he took advantage of the situation. Honestly, I loved him, and still do--in a different way. He's a good person with a kind heart. He doesn't deserve to be tortured for a decade."

"I've done some foolish things for love. So be it. This brought you into my life, so I can't regret it."

"You're sweet."



I feel a tear drip on my shoulder as I pull her tightly to me. I kiss her eyes dry. We sleep intertwined physically and emotionally.



(the road ahead isn't in the rear view mirror)

Fifty Shades of Silver Hair and Socks - Chapter 17

I barely make it to the airport in time. I jog to the gate and am one of the final few down the jetway. At least I have my same First Class seat. When I arrive at my row there's a large fellow seated in seat 2B. Naturally, I assume Lovergirl set this up. Another hockey hero of mine? Can't be. He's black.



"Hey, how's it going?"

"Fine, you?"

"I've had better days."

"Almost missed the flight, didn't you?"

"Yep."



I detect a French accent. He's close to my age and large enough for me to appreciate not being squeezed next to him in coach.



"My name is Mormon."

"Tom."

"Nice meeting you. Are you ..."

"... Canadian. I'm from Montreal."

It couldn't be.

"Ah, chilly up there. Have you been to San Diego?"

"Yep. I usually fly out once a year to visit family."

"Good hockey in Montreal."

"You a fan?"

"Huge. Flyers, though. Sorry. You?"

"Canadiens. No playoffs this year for us. Ever play?"

It must be just a coincidence.

"Funny you should ask. I can't even skate. I went to the Flyers' practice rink on the way here and ... well ... got stuck there. You ever play?"

"I actually played for the Canadiens back in the day."

"Hold on. Tomas LeBaleur?"

"One and the same."

"You're Bea's Uncle."

My mind races.

"Ah, you know my niece? Small world."

I stare straight ahead trying to make sense of it all.

"This is fucked up on so many levels."

"How so?"

"You're Bea's uncle--the hockey player who took her virginity."

"Look, Mormon ..."

"You're Uncle Tom ... and you're African-American."

"African-Canadian."

I can't help it. I laugh nervously.



I'm tempted to ask for a seat change, but I have genuine feelings for this bizarre woman, and I want to know how she became so strange.



"I'm not proud of what happened. It ruined my career and got me ostracized from the family. Shit, Alanis Morissette even wrote a song about it. I can't step foot in Canada."

"'Uninvited'?"

"That's the one."

"Damn."

"When the scandal broke the NHL severed all ties with me and cut off my pension. They even took my name off the Stanley Cup."

"Dude, you have to admit it's kind of fucked up to take a niece's virginity."

"Totally. We spent a lot of time together and I was dabbling in drugs, having problems at home, and doing some stupid things. Haven't you ever fantasized about a relative?"

"Maybe a distant cousin, but that's just a fantasy. You went there."

"Yes, I did."

"Now, your niece has these crazy hockey fetishes."

"And, yet you love her."

"I do, damn it. Shit. I don't know how to deal with this. You're not still having relations with her, are you?"

"Hell, no. That was almost ten years ago. We have a platonic relationship now. I'm just glad she doesn't hate me like the rest of my family. My own children won't see me."

"Sorry, man."



We chat throughout the flight, and although I can't entirely relate to what happened between them, I understand how it can happen and can sense the remorse in his voice. By the time we land, I feel more sorrow than anger toward him. His lack of control took away everything he loved. Is it safe for me to lose control and love Bea, or will I lose everything?



(love is always a risk worth taking)

Fifty Shades of Silver Hair and Socks - Chapter 16

The next morning, I get up early to cook breakfast for Mother's Day. Bea has a business meeting in the city, so I plan to spend all day with Mom, visiting relatives. I chat with Bea as she packs.



"The limo comes at ten."

"All right. You are flying back with me tonight, right?"

"No, sweetie, I need to stay one more night."

"Fine, I'll just hang with 'The Hammer' again. I have a surprise for you tonight before my flight. Are you game?"

"Absolutely."



We kiss and part. I make a few calls and arrange a brief private skate at the Flyer's practice arena. That should hit the spot. Since the arena is near the airport, it should work out well. I text her late in the afternoon.



Mormon Silver: Lovergirl, meet me at 333 Preston Avenue in Vorhees at 8pm.

Bea Plastique: What's there?

Mormon Silver: An adventure. No cheating by looking it up, either.

Bea Plastique: OK, deal.



When the limo pulls up to the arena, Bea greets me with a grin and a hug.



"A skating rink, Uncle M? Do you skate?"

"Um, hell no."

"But, you will with me?"

"I'll try. Luckily, nobody except the night guard will be there so I'll only have two witnesses."



We toss on some rental skates and head out on the ice. She skates with ease, gliding around the rink while wearing a huge smile. I cling to the side boards like a child in the deep end of a pool.



"God, it has been years since I've skated. Come on. Hang on to me," she offers.

"How emasculating."



I get the hang of it after a few laps, or so I think. Then I catch an edge and flop down on the ice, dragging her with me. The ice is cold, but she warms me to where I hardly notice. We kiss and caress each other. She backs me up against the corner boards and stares mischievously.



"Ever done it on the rocks?"

"Only Scotch."



She starts undoing my jeans.



"You're crazy. Stop."

"Nope, somebody here deserves a legendary blowjob, and I know it's not me."

"But, it's freezing cold."

"Stop your whining. It will be good for your sore butt."



Bea delivers as promised and I'm fascinated by the strange combination of sensations and the fear of being caught. After she finishes me off, she tries to help me up. Fuck, my jeans are stuck, frozen to the ice. Bea laughs and skates away. She digs through her purse and comes back with piece of paper and a pen. It's her Rules.



"How is that supposed to get me loose?"

"Sign it and see," she offers as she hands me the pen.

"Fine," I relent since it's no use; I'm stuck. I sign on my knee and hand her the pen. "Now, get me up."

"Thank you, Uncle M."



Bea winks and skates away. Not again! As she skates she tears the Rules of Sexual Engagement and tosses them into the air like snow.



"What are you doing?"

"I didn't need an agreement; I just wanted to know you'd sign it. Bye for now, lover. Have a safe flight."

"What? Hey! Wait! Get back here!"



It's no use, she's gone. I can't leave without pants and my phone is with my bag in the skate rental area. I can't believe she got me again. If I don't come up with something soon I'll miss my flight. I decide to release myself the only way I can imagine: I pee my pants.



(falling for it and her, all ways)

Fifty Shades of Silver Hair and Socks - Chapter 15

Bea falls asleep quickly as I spoon her. I lie there for a few minutes enjoying the scent of her hair, the taste of her neck, and warmth of her skin. Then I slide away without disturbing her and return downstairs to spend some time with my family.



"You've outdone yourself. Bea's delightful."

"I know, Mom. I'm fortunate. What's this?" I ask as I sit at the table. There's a ring box, which I pick up and examine.

"Open it," Mom directs me.



Inside is my mother's engagement ring.



"Mom, I can't ..."

"Hush. Your father worked hard to afford that ring, and it meant so much to me that he would choose to give it to me. He would have wanted you to have it and make someone feel special again."

"Jesus."



I welled up at the table, glad that Bea didn't catch me. I miss my father, and I'm honored.



"OK, thank you." I give her a big hug and my brother slaps my shoulder. "Look, let's keep this a secret for now."

"You do the right thing and plan a nice surprise for her out west. And, don't be afraid to get your knee dirty."

"I know, Mom."

"Have someone take pictures and post them on Facebook, so you can annoy the rest of the family," Neal teases. He knows how much I can't stand those inane status updates.

"Funny, Bro."



We chat for a while and Bea finally joins us. She's wearing sweats, which is odd, but I've learned to expect strangeness from her. The four of us feast as my mother keeps refilling plates. What should I do with the ring? Does she even want to marry me or is this just a game? I try to avoid thinking about the ring box in my pocket.



"So, what do you two have planned for this evening?"

"I thought it would be fun if Mormon gave me a little tour of your town."

"Perfect. Take my car," Neal offers, "No racing, and get her home by midnight or you're grounded."

"Aye, aye."



We cruise around town as I point out the places my buddies and I used to hang out. We pass an old drive-in theater that has been closed for decades, a local fast food franchise known for its awesome bratwurst, and arrive at the high school football field.



"Ooh, let's go in."

"Sure, why not?"



Hand-in-hand, we walk the track around the outside of the abandoned football field. It brings back memories. I was never talented enough to play, but always enjoyed supporting my school. Bea leads me to the old wooden bleachers behind the home end zone.



"Sit there. I have a surprise," Bea teases.



She pulls off her top and peels down her sweats to reveal a cheerleader outfit in my high school's colors.



"No way!"

"Tell me you never fantasized about having sex with a cheerleader."

"I'd be lying. Are you going to do a cheer for me?"

"I was hoping for something a little more intimate," she said as she approached and straddled me while unbuttoning my jeans. Oh, dear God, she's not wearing panties, either. Sex in the high school bleachers. This is so wrong!



We make love quietly while peeking around to make sure the coast is clear. Suddenly I feel a sharp prick.



"Fuck!"

"What?"

"I think I just got a splinter."

"Ha, ha, ha! Let me see."

"No! God damn it."

"Don't start swearing or you'll get me all worked up and more splinters."



I don't know how much more intimate it can be than limping home to have a lover tweeze a splinter from your ass cheek and apply peroxide and Neosporin to the wound. Sexy, huh?

Fifty Shades of Silver Hair and Socks - Chapter 14

My mother staggers and nearly faints at Bea's revelation. I would have helped her, but I'm stunned as well.



"What a wonderful surprise!"

"Isn't it?" Bea concurs as she gives my mother a hug. I scratch my head.

"Let me see the ring," my mother begs.

"Oh, we haven't picked one out yet."

"Perfect. Have you decided on a date?"

"No, mother, I just proposed last week."

"Well, come on in you two. You must be starved. Neal, your brother has some fantastic news."



My brother emerges from the family room shakes my hand and gives me the "bro" hug.



"Neal, this is my ... eh, hem ... fiancée, Beatrice Plastique."

"You sly devil you. I've never known you to be able to keep a secret."

"Right, that's your thing, bro."



Neal goes to shake Bea's hand, but she stops him.



"We're practically family now. Families hug."



Neal hugs her and gives me the silent "not bad" look with his lips. I shrug.



"So, Bea, how did the old man manage to snag such a young beauty?"

"Oh, your brother is quite charming."

"It doesn't bother you that he's eighty?"

"Nice, dickhead."

"Language!" my mother yells from the kitchen as she unwraps enough food for an army.

"Have you ever been to San Diego, Neal?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Well, the boys out that way have priorities that begin with surfing and skateboarding and end with drinking microbrews and eating cheap Mexican food."

"Surely, they'd make room for loveliness such as yourself."

"They have little space, considering all the roommates and sloppy pickup trucks. Your brother is sophisticated, mature, and he doesn't play games ... much."

*cough*



We chat around the table for an hour or so while nibbling. Bea fits here too. What should I do? Mom says she has my childhood room upstairs all set for us.



"Honey, why don't we unpack and take a little nap. Flights always wear me out," Bea suggests.

"Good idea," my mother agrees, "you two rest up and we'll have a nice dinner around seven."



I open the upstairs door for Bea and grab the suitcases. She wiggles up the steps, slowly, teasing me. I lean forward and bite her ass. She shrieks and giggles.



"So, this is the room you grew up in?"

"Indeed. Had my first orgasm right there on that bed."

"Ah. Who, pray tell, was the lucky girl?"

"She's right here, actually. Let me introduce you, wife-to-be."



I spank her.



"Ha, ha, Rosy Palmer--a woman's biggest rival."

"Yep."

"So, you've never had a woman in your childhood bed?"

"Nope. Fantasized about it a lot."

"Mm, let's change that right now," she insists as we undress in seconds and go at it like teens.



It seems so naughty with my family downstairs. That's the brand of danger and excitement she's brought into my life. I'm growing addicted to it ... to her. Surely, she's playing games with me about the engagement, but a lifetime with my kinky Lovergirl might not be so bad.



(sometimes control is best relinquished)