Basketball Boy

It’s always sunny with Philly Matt

June 2005

I left NYC a day early to stop off in Philadelphia to go out with Philly Matt. We hadn't seen each other since my Girls' Weekend in Philadelphia in late April. I got off the train and took the escalator up to the main level of the station. There Matt was…looking as fine as ever in his jean jacket and French Connection t-shirt. We gave each other a long, close hug, and I sighed to myself. It felt good to (finally) choose a nice guy!

Philly Matt had less than 24 hours to plan our date, but he still put some thought into it. We drove off to a restaurant in Olde City. There was a fireplace inside with a lot of warm wood and European beers on tap. The restaurant was casual, but romantic. We grabbed a drink at the bar, while we waited for a table. He turned to me and said,

"It's already 8. I'm happy to bring you back to the station after dinner so you can get a train back to DC tonight. But, on the chance that you wanted to stay over, I reserved a room for you at the Westin. I don't mean to be presumptuous, and I'm happy to go home tonight or sleep on the couch in the hotel room. I just wanted to spend as much time with you as I could, and I didn't want to worry about you on the train at midnight."

I looked at him and smiled, "That was really thoughtful, Matt. I would love to stay over. I'm sure the couch will work, too."

In less than an hour, Philly Matt had exhibited several qualities that I wasn't used to seeing in the guy that I was dating. (Thoughtful and communicative guys might be the norm for some girls, but not me.) I could tell that I was ready for a nicer guy because his comments and actions didn't scare me off in the slightest.

Matt sat at the bar for over an hour, talking about his children, my job and how we met. When we finally got to a table, I realized that I hadn't stopped smiling since he picked me up from the station. Philly Matt made me laugh and feel safe all at the same time.

I could tell that I liked him when I showed him my dorky side. He excused himself to go to the bathroom, and I took one of my business cards out of my purse and wrote a little note on the back about how fine he was. When he returned to our table, he saw the card on his chair, read it and laughed out loud.

After dinner, we went over to Club 27 where we met. We danced a bit. And, then, that part of me that can over-think relationships with men kicked into gear. For over two years, my world revolved around Basketball Boy. Even when I was seeing other guys, I just viewed them as temporary companionship and would drop everything for Basketball Boy. Now, I was looking at Philly Matt and only thinking about him. Did he have boyfriend potential?

We didn't stay long at the club since it was packed. We headed back to the Westin, and I set some ground rules: I didn't want to do anything south of the border. If he was okay with that, I was fine with him sleeping in the bed with me.

Philly Matt wasn't just fine with that, but he thought that it was smart to take things slow and get to know each other. Wow! Now, that was refreshing!

Our time together in the hotel room reminded me of the second night that we spent together in April. His mouth was so warm. His tongue was engaging and passionate without being sloppy. When he kissed me, I felt weak in the knees – no matter whether we were standing up or lying down.

In the morning, we woke up and just picked up where we left off. We made out for over an hour like we were in high school. At noon, he realized that he didn't know when checkout time was. He picked up the phone and called the front desk.

"Yes, I was wondering what time checkout is? [Pause.] Noon, huh? [Pause.] As in, right now? [Pause. He laughs.] Well, would it be possible to have a later checkout? [Pause.] Thank you!"

We had another two hours. Oh, in case you're wondering how we spent that time, we used 15 minutes to get ready and the rest of the time to kiss each other some more. I know that we had brunch afterward, but couldn't tell you where or what we talked about. I just remember boarding the train that afternoon to DC and thinking that I would be spending much more time in Philadelphia. *Sigh*

City of Brotherly Love


For the last weekend in April, my friends and I headed to Philly to join our girl, Nizzle, for her birthday. The plan was for eight of the guys and girls from our group to spend the weekend up in Philadelphia with the Birthday Girl, but work and health stuff brought the number down to three girls (me, Barla and AP). I obviously don't wish ankle sprains, merger negotiations, and the flu on my friends, but this Girls' Weekend was one of my favorite getaways ever. You know those times when you laugh so hard that your stomach hurts. Well, that happened the entire weekend.

We arrived in Philly long after the sun had set. After checking into our hotel in Olde City, we barhopped for a bit until we decided that we wanted to dance. As we walked down an alley toward a club, I saw a fine black man outside and said to my girls, "Talk about the City of Brotherly Love!"

We headed inside Club 27. Even though the music was good, there was barely anyone there. We weren't sure if we should stay, but we figured that we would get a table and have at least one round.

Nizzle had quite a few shots in her by this point and jumped up on the seat to start dancing. It was her birthday weekend, though. Who were we to stop her?

The handsome black man from outside approached our table and said,

"Hi ladies. Welcome to Club 27. Are you having a good time tonight?"

"Yes! Definitely!" Barla replied.

We all talked for a few minutes and learned that his name was Matt. Philly Matt worked at Club 27 on Thursdays and Saturdays when the club was packed and the upstairs was opened up for dancing.

"I'll give you a tour later if you'd like. Tonight's not the best night to come here for dancing, but some more people will show up in an hour or so," Philly Matt explained. "Have you been here before?"

"No. It's our friend's birthday so we came up from DC to celebrate with her," I replied as I pointed to Nizzle.

"Oh, Happy Birthday! Well if it's your birthday, then let me by you all a round of shots! I'll be right back with some buttery nipples," he kindly offered.

I tried to stop him to tell him that I don't drink and order a soda in lieu of a shot, but he was already off to the bar. I followed him in the hopes of saving his money and the club's alcohol supply.

"Hey! I just wanted to let you know that I don't drink, but I hope that you'll do my shot for me since I would hate for a buttery nipple to go to waste," I informed him, as I put my arms around him from behind and rubbed his nipples over his shirt until they became hard.

(Yes, folks, I had met this man less than 10 minutes ago and I was already rubbing his nipples! This is still something that Philly Matt and I joke about to this day. He said that he knew from that moment that he had "a live one on his hands!")

The drinks continued to flow, and our groups merged on the dance floor. Because the place wasn't that packed, we had a lot of the floor all to ourselves. There were a lot of moments when my girlfriends' heads were between my boobs, legs were in the air, and booties were getting slapped. We had a blast!

Before the club closed for the night, Philly Matt gave us the grand tour. As he was talking, I couldn't stop staring at his smile. It could light up a room! He also had an amazing body. I wasn't looking to meet a guy in Philly (especially since Basketball Boy was moving back to DC in June), but I couldn't deny that I was attracted to Matt.

After seeing the upstairs dance floor with a platform overhead, Nizzle decided to add Club 27 to her official Birthday Party itinerary the following night. As we walked out of the club, Philly Matt and I gave each other a big hug and I kissed him on the cheek.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'm counting on it," he replied.

Laughing at a comic isn’t always a good thing


In 2002, Basketball Boy and I went out on our first date to dinner and a comedy show at the DC Improv. We saw a comic who had found success in TV and film in the 1990s, but was now doing stand-up at a small venue. He still put on a great show, though, and a few of his bits made me laugh so hard that my stomach hurt.

Three years later, Funny Boy returned to DC, and a group of us went to see him perform. I got up in the middle of the show to stretch. While in the lobby, a large, handsome man approached me. It turned out that he was Funny Boy's bodyguard, Greg. I was surprised that Funny Boy needed a bodyguard, and Greg agreed with me that he didn't. He thought that Funny Boy just liked the attention that a bodyguard attracted. Interesting. Greg and I talked during much of the show, and he asked if I wanted to go out for a drink afterward. I had plans with my friends that night, but I told Greg that I would call him before he left town.

Two nights later, I was driving back from an Orioles game and decided to see what Greg was up to. Funny Boy was starting his show soon, and Greg suggested that I come by the Improv to grab a drink. I arrived at the club and was glad that I did. I spent most of the night hanging out with the opening comic and Greg in the back of the venue, and we had a blast.

After Funny Boy was done, he came to the back and looked at me. He asked if I would come out with him and some friends to a nearby lounge. I wanted to spend more time with Greg, and thought Funny Boy would be well, funny, so I said sure.

Funny Boy had also invited some other girls to the lounge. From their outfits, it appeared as though they were in the entertainment industry. I don't mean that with judgment behind it, but it's not that tough to spot strippers in an Ann Taylor/Banana Republic/J Crew town like DC.

We arrived at the lounge and one of Funny Boy's friends from high school joined us. He also had asked a pretty, petite Indian girl to meet him there. She seemed very sweet and brought along two of her friends. So, there we were at the table: Funny Boy, the bodyguard, three petite Indian girls, the high school friend, two strippers and me. Remember that game on Sesame Street — which one of these is not like the other? Well, at this table, I definitely didn't blend, but that didn't phase me.

The strippers kept going to the bathroom to powder their noses. The powder was not the type that you could purchase at a cosmetic counter. The sweet girl that Funny Boy had invited seemed uncomfortable, but at least she had her friends with her. I talked a lot with Greg and the high school friend, and the mood lightened (and livened) up when we all started dancing.

I took a break from the dance floor, and Funny Boy and I started talking one-on-one. He said that he was attracted to me. I responded,

"Thanks. That surprises me, though, since I'm not your type."

"Why would you say that?" he asked.

"Because I'm not a petite Indian girl or a stripper."

"Well, you are the girl I want to leave with."

I was flattered, but I also tried not to think too much of it. I felt as though he was attracted to me because I seemed like a challenge. And, I wasn't sure if I was even attracted to him.

We left the lounge, and one of the strippers was so out of it that she could barely walk. Funny Boy told Greg to make sure that they were okay and take them home. (I realize that Funny Boy was paying Greg, but I would hope that my friends wouldn't task someone else with helping me out if I wasn't feeling well.)

Funny Boy and I walked to his hotel around the corner, and he invited me up to his suite in The Mayflower for a drink. I told him that I would be happy to join him for a drink, but that I wasn't going to sleep with him. He was fine with that, and suggested that I meet him upstairs in ten minutes.

In ten minutes, Funny Boy had turned on light jazz, lit candles in both rooms and changed into a t-shirt and flannels. He became very intense, very quickly. I was talking about how I hoped that the girls were ok. I asked if the drinks were very strong at the lounge, and Funny Boy got very defensive, insisting that he doesn't drink alcohol. (OK. Fine. Calm down, buddy.) He was heading to New York City after DC, and I made some silly comment with a Brooklyn accent. Then, he got very offended.

"Why are you doing impressions?" Funny Boy inquired.

"Umm…because it's funny. I say things in different accents all the time," I replied.

"You are not a comedian. You are not supposed to make jokes. I am a comedian. That's what I do."


I wasn't sure if I was interested in Funny Boy before I went up to his room, but now I knew that I wasn't attracted to him. Within a minute, he got on top of me and started kissing me. He was one of those kissers who just sticks his tongue down your throat with no skill, direction or passion. I sensed by the movement in his flannel pants that he was excited, but each second with his tongue so far down my throat was one too many. I felt as though I was at the doctor's office and he was checking to see if I had strep. Eww!

I excused myself soon after that. As I exited the hotel, Greg called and we had a nice talk. Greg was articulate, caring and fun. If he didn't live in LA, I would have gone out with him again. Funny Boy, by contrast, gave me his number, and I promptly deleted it. It's a good thing when a guy makes me laugh because of his humor and personality. It's not a good thing when a guy makes me laugh because of how he kisses.