Annabelle – Epilogue

“’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all” – Alfred Lord Tennyson

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It was about 6 months later until I saw her again. I was working for a local publication, and my boss asked if I’d check on their booth at an event in University City. It was on a Saturday in the spring of 2015. They would normally have a booth set up at some sponsored events, and they’d have a couple of interns man it.

Since I was new no one would recognize me there, so I could see that the magazines were displayed and the swag was out, and that the interns were doing their jobs.

I met with my friend Carla for a few drinks that evening at The Continental bar in midtown. Now that I think about it, I had spent the day with Kylie, (See: Kylie – Broken Wing) and had to ditch her to go meet up with my good friend Carla.

We had a couple of drinks and wound up chatting with a couple of gals we would meet up with later. After about an hour we hopped in an UBER and headed out to University City. We got there and when you live in Rittenhouse in center city, going out to University City is like going to a different planet.

I was expecting a straight up festival, with beer and food, but all that was out there was a bunch of families, a Ben & Jerry’s ice cream cart and a big stage set up. Oh, and our little booth off to the side.

Carla and I were clearly disappointed. We thought we’d be chugging free drinks and stuffing our heads with chow. We go over to the booth and check it out. I chat with the interns and everything seems to be in order.

The show starts and it’s some sort of musical number.

“Carla. I need to get out of here now.”

“This thing sucks. I agree. But it seems like something’s bothering you.”

“See that girl right there? The one on the left in the show.”

“Yea.”

“That’s Annabelle. My ex-girlfriend.”

“Oh the girl who was standing over there before, staring at you since the minute you got here?”

“She was?”

“I didn’t even see her. How did you…?

“Women can sense these things.”

“Let’s go.”

The next time was  a month or so later when I went to a beer garden that was my account at the publication. They invited me down to their place of business for some free drinks. I can’t pass that up.

So I get there and have a few drinks at the bar, and who the hell comes out to entertain everybody?

Yep. Same musical troupe, and there’s Annabelle. I watched the show a little bit, but it was so awful, I had to get out of there. Their stuff is so silly it’s absurd. I think the only reason the troupe exists is so the lead guy can run around in public in a fucking dress.

It was killing me to see her and I needed closure. I texted her and said I wanted to meet up and chat. We set it up and I met her at a bar in Northern Liberties. (Which I hate)

I had one before she arrived. She gets there and we go to a table and sit down. She orders a drink and said her stomach has been bothering her. She says it’s from all of the junk food she’s been eating down at the beer garden where her troupe has been performing all month. I think she’s full of shit. She always pulls health issues or headaches to get out of stuff.

I begin to recount all of the stuff she did after she broke up with me, and how much it hurt me, and how adults don’t do that to each other. I told her how much that hurt me for months, having her rip open the sutures that were trying to heal in my wounded heart.

She said she was sorry she hurt me, but really didn’t show any real emotion. I believe simply because she isn’t capable of it. When you don’t know who you are, where you’re going, or what you want in life, how can you possibly know what anyone else around you is feeling? Annabelle only sees what she wants. She hasn’t a clue that her selfish actions can really hurt a person that is close with her.

She told me that she had moved, and was going to buy some shitty house but her parents told her they didn’t want her living in that neighborhood, so they bought her a nice house in a better part of town. I suppose since they’re rich and she’s the only one of their kids that’s a financial failure, they felt they had to step in. So she lives on the first floor, she has taken in a roommate who lives on the 2nd floor and uses the basement for her photography stuff.

She has the roommate because she obviously can’t afford the mortgage. Who has roommates in their thirties?

“I don’t really have to work that hard anymore or make a lot of money. Because I don’t have the bills I used to have.”

(Yea, because your parents bought you a fucking house.)

She left after the one drink and I walked her outside and she got on her bike.

“You’ll have to see my house.” she said as she rode off.

No thanks, I thought to myself.

Well, so much for closure.

Her apology was hollow.

About a year later this woman I know who works in the arts hit me up at the publication I worked for at the time. Trixie wanted some love from our magazine to promote a little art performance she had written. I asked her if there was any budget to advertise and of course she said no. These “artists” never have two shillings to rub together.

So I talk to my editor and since we support the arts, she said she’d be happy to write a little piece about it and put it in our events calendar.

I called Trixie and told her that the piece would run for the two weeks before the event. So it would be in our magazine twice. She was very happy and thanked me for the free support/advertising.

So on opening night of the show I decided to check out what I had promoted for the last two weeks. I like Trixie and I decided to take my good friend, Carly (See: Carly – 2013 to Present – The Mad Baker)

Carly always comes through for me in the clutch. She’s one of my favorite people in Philadelphia.

We plowed some vodka before the show in case it sucked. We hop in an UBER and head down to the show. We get there. It’s some little installation in South Philly. We go in and there are only maybe between and 20 or 30 people there. We grab a pair of wines (Box wine!) and head into the show.

It starts with some woman doing some sort of weird slow dance on the floor. I don’t get it. Then they have us all head upstairs for the 2nd part of the “performance.”

I have the sudden realization that it is a two woman show starring Trixie and of all the fucking people on the Earth… Annabelle.

I’m an artist. I’ve been an artist my whole life. Started drawing as a child. Art major in school. Won art shows, and drew comics. I have sold my art work and even had it stolen. So my shit must have been good. I taught myself how to play guitar. I started out as a singer in the choir and then a lead singer in my first band. Then guitarist in my 2nd and 3rd bands. Philly, Jersey and LA. I’m a writer and a huge film guy. I love all kinds of music from Sinatra to Slayer and everything in between. I love the ballet, the orchestra, the arts in general. So I have a pretty good idea what is good art and what is absolute shit.

What I witnessed that evening may as well have fallen out of a dog’s ass and hit the pavement in a steaming pile of awfulness.

It didn’t make sense. It was poorly written. Horribly acted. Trixie has a great ass though. That’s all I can say. She looked hot. Annabelle was like a scientist in the beginning and then changed into a bird of some kind. It made no sense at all. Annabelle literally wrapped in saran wrap with feathers covering her sort of non nipples and hippie bush. It was a revolting mess.

I’m grateful that I had the lovely opportunity of plying myself with alcohol before the “show.” (more like, abortion)

After that massacre, Annabelle came right up to us and I told her it was really good. It was either that or just simply throw up on her in disgust.

I introduced her to Carly and I’m sure she thought Carly was my main squeeze. Oh, by the way, Carly looked amazing. Black Versace cocktail dress, black sheer hose and black pumps. She looked smoking hot.

Annabelle told us she was going to have to get out of the polyurethane feather nightmare that she was wearing and would chat some more. We told her great job and we’d be downstairs sipping free boxed wine.

We went downstairs and grabbed more wine and went outside to smoke.

“What do we do?”

It was starting to rain.

“We get the fuck out of here. Trixie ambushed you and got free advertising for her shitty show that no one went to see. We’re going.”

I hit the UBER app and we were back in Rittenhouse in 15 minutes.

This is an entirely different epilogue that Michelle’s (See: Michelle – 2007 to Present – A Brand New Day) This is all I have to wrap up the tattered mess that was my short nine month relationship with Annabelle.

In hindsight, should I have ever gotten involved with Annabelle? No. She was too young, and too naive about herself or even the world. It was an absolute mismatch. I once made a list when it was over of all of the thing I liked and didn’t like about Annabelle.

On the GOOD list there were only 3 things. Youth, sex, and nice to be with when we were together just doing things. (ie: dates, museums, dinners, etc.)

Just think. Two of the 3 things she almost had no control over.

The BAD list had over 15 things that I didn’t like about her on it. That my friend, is a strong indicator that it was an absolute mismatch and maybe she was just with me due to her distant daddy issues and I was a novelty to her. A new toy. The latest shiny thing that had attracted her attention like a squirrel.

I remember she told me she once slept walked and went into the bathroom and cut her bangs off. When I met her that second time at that shitty bar where she worked I thought her hair looked a little weird. She had to go to a hairdresser to try to fix that mess. I think it may have something to do with stress.

One time she slept walked and got scissors and cut up a dress that she was supposed to wear to some event for her sister. This chick has real issues or maybe even a real mental disorder. When I look at my relationship with her now, I can’t even believe I stuck around as long as I did. I should have cut her loose way earlier than when it ended. I should have seen the crazy. But you know, I did. I just put up with it because I loved her.

I didn’t love her. That just sounds nice. That’s why people put up with shit. No. People put up with shit because their minds are clouded with society’s norms. If you can take a step back, (Most men can’t. Actually most people can’t) you’d see that you’re in a relationship with someone who is absolutely not right for you. I know some idiots that are doing this right now!

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not bitter. But you can think about your mistakes with people. You can talk to your friends and family about your mistakes, but when you take the time to actually WRITE them down, you see the truth. The truth “that your own rod licks you the hardest.”

My mother used to say that, and it’s so true. Think of all the fucked up shit that has happened to you in your life. The bad stuff. You did that. You were probably the architect of that madness. You made that. You at least helped. You brought that nightmare into your life.

It’s okay. I’m not here to hurt anybody. I just want you to think. “Doing the same thing over and over and thinking you’re going to get a different result is madness.”

I’ve done that. We all have. I have to evolve up and out from this relationship. I will. I will never get mixed up aith a girl like Annabelle ever again. I’d rather die alone than go through something like that with such a mixed up emotionally bankrupt, lost soul like Annabelle.

You gotta cut your losses and go.

Everybody’s different and we all go through our own shit in our own way. You can tell your friend that he should leave his cheating wife who hasn’t fucked him in two years but he has to exit that burning building in his own way. All the while wasting years of living he should be enjoying and not going to fucking meetings and therapists.

Drop the clutch and GO!

It’s like telling someone they should get in better shape.

You try to change your own mind and body.

That shit’s hard. How are you going to change another person?

You can’t. They have to do it their own way in their own time.

Anyway. No more artists or failed actresses. I just can’t.

Annabelle was texting after the show and thanking me profusely for my support. Sadly, she seemed so scared and unsure of herself. I guess now that I was standing outside the gates of Annabelle Asylum, I had a different perspective. I could see clearly she was just another lost soul of the arts community here in our fair city

I had some great dinners and some decent sex with her so there’s that. But I would erase it all if I could have the opportunity to never have met Annabelle. But I’m wrong in my thinking. I had to meet her. I had to experience this so I could learn more about myself. I’m still on the journey to find real and genuine love in this city.

But now based on these experiences I’ve had I now have a clearer idea of what that should look like. I have learned much.

And for that I am grateful and I continue to evolve and grow as a man.

That show was the last time I ever saw Annabelle.

But last year on my birthday, she messaged me on Facebook.

“Happy Birthday, Charles, I hope your life is going well.”

I waited a day and thanked her and wished her a happy birthday too. (Hers is July and mine is August 9, both Leos)

 

That was the last I ever spoke to her. I’ve never seen or heard from her again. (Thank goodness!)

 

Will I ever find a girl who is a good match for me in this city that will stick around?

 

My heart is always open, and we’ll have to see what happens. Thanks to you all of my readers. We’ll get there together!

 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish Monday through Friday at 8am EST.

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Church – 2013 to Present -Seizure Salad

I’m sitting in my go to bar with Church. It’s our spot and it’s what we do. He’s sipping a Sailor Jerry and Coke, and I’m having my usual Chardonnay with a side of ice. He orders a salad and I go with the sliders. There is a couple a few seats down from me to my right. I know the guy, his name is Brian, but I don’t know the lady he’s with so I wave but don’t approach. He could be working.

On the left of Church, is a brunette in her thirties and an older gentleman. Looks like a lawyer. We don’t really pay any attention. We’re chatting and doing our thing.

Daphne rolls behind the bar and says hello. She tells me it’s a slow night. Not much happening. She goes back to her hostess stand and it’s just another night in paradise.

Suddenly, the woman who was sitting to Church’s left, goes off the bar stool and hits the floor. Normally, I’d call that Thursday night.  We see so many banged up people around the city losing their shit. But this woman was having a seizure. People within visual range are shocked and the bar goes quiet.

I point to the phone on the wall, because the bartender on duty didn’t see one of her patrons suddenly vanish from the bar. “Liz, call 911.”

She starts dialing. Church, with his cat-like reflexes, springs into action and goes from sitting next to me sipping a drink to all the way around the other side of her on the floor holding her head to keep her steady. I get down there and untangle her leg from the lower rail of his bar stool. I have the legs. Church is focuses on the poor woman’s head. She’s thrashing about, and Church is barking commands to those around him. He’s literally single-handedly coordinating the effort to help save this poor woman, and keeping her from injuring herself further.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but Church was formerly a Corpsmen in the United States Navy.

A Corpsman works in a wide variety of capacities and locations, including shore establishments such as naval hospitals and clinics, aboard ships, and as the primary medical caregivers for sailors while underway. Hospital corpsmen are frequently the only medical caregiver available in many fleet or Marine units on extended deployment. In addition, hospital corpsmen perform duties as assistants in the prevention and treatment of disease and injury and assist health care professionals in providing medical care to sailors and their families.

They may function as clinical or specialty technicians, medical administrative personnel and health care providers at medical treatment facilities. They also serve as battlefield corpsmen with the Marine Corps, rendering emergency medical treatment to include initial treatment in a combat environment. Qualified hospital corpsmen may be assigned the responsibility of independent duty aboard ships and submarines; Fleet Marine Service, SEAL and Seabee units, and at isolated duty stations where no medical officer is available.

Yea, pretty bad ass. That’s the guy you want next to you when somebody takes a header at your favorite bar.

She’s making what almost sounds like barking sounds, and staring wildly about. He’s got a good hold on her. He’s talking to her. But mostly he’s trying to keep her from bashing her face into the wooden wall of the bar. The bartender comes around, and some others have gathered. I grab a cloth napkin and ask if we need to put it in her mouth. I always heard that epileptics could bite or swallow their own tongues. Church says, no. He knows what he’s doing and has the situation well under control.

She seems to be calming down. I look over at the guy who was with her. He’s just standing there staring, and looking uncomfortable. The paramedics come and stabilize her. I feel so bad for her. It’s the holidays, and she’s out for a drinks and this horror befalls her. They get her onto the gurney and roll her out. The police are there and also ask some questions. Church is on point, he gives law enforcement the full report.

They also speak to the guy she came in with. He says he doesn’t know her very well. He met her over at DelFrisco’s steakhouse, and then brought her over here for a drink. That’s a big lawyer hang out. Not my scene. This guy didn’t do anything to help or comfort her when she had the seizure, and he didn’t go to the hospital with her. I don’t care if you just picked up the chick in a bar. Lady falls down, you go to the damn hospital with her. I’m thinking that weasel was married and didn’t want any problems. How would he explain to his wife that he was at the hospital with some other woman? I may be wrong, but I got the vibe something was definitely shady about that guy.

We go back to our seats at the bar and have another drink. Church is pissed because somebody was telling him to turn her head when she was foaming at the mouth and that’s not what you’re supposed to do. Me, I was just glad the lady was okay.

Daphne came over to chat and get a recap. I tell her what I know, and tease her.”You had to say it was a slow night and that nothing was happening, and look what you did, Daph…”

“I know, right? Me and my big mouth.”

Indeed…

 

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Charlene – 2015 to Present – Spiritual Innocence

Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.

I was walking down the stairs from my building to Suburban Station. I don’t even remember why. There was a bunch of people coming through and I held the door for a group of ladies that were coming down behind me. This one attractive black woman wearing a hijab and a tunic was very appreciative that I was holding the door for everybody. She thanked me and actually stopped to chat. There seemed to be a very simple instant connection.

Charlene is obviously Muslim. We chatted awhile and I think she felt surprised that we were connecting. But she is very nice and has a pretty smile. I’ve had two girlfriends in the past that were black. I look forward to telling you those stories on here at PhicklePhilly. So we chatted and I exchanged numbers with her. I thought we could meet for lunch and I could get to know her better. I have had almost zero contact with any Muslim women. They simply don’t socialize with anyone outside of their circle. Someone once told me that if you saw a woman walking around in a burka that meant her husband was in jail, because once a black man entered the penal system he usually joined the Muslims that were already in the can. But frankly I think that might be bullshit. If anyone knows the reason, please send me a message or leave a comment.

There was some texting but nothing concrete. Apparently she had been laid off from her job and that’s why I met her at my building. There was some sort of job service, career training agency on the 2nd floor. They had so many people going there everyday, that the building gave them access to their own elevator. Which ironically, when you saw who the majority of people who were going to the job center, it almost felt like segregation.

A few weeks passed and I ran into her again in Suburban Station. We went to the food court at Comcast and had a nice little lunch. It was obviously noisy but we didn’t mind. We were happy just to be sharing a meal.

Charlene seemed fascinated with me in general. She kept asking why a businessman like myself would be interested in her. I told her it didn’t matter. She seemed sweet and nice. She took my hands across the table and looked at them, turning them over to look at my palms and feel them. It was as if this was her first physical contact with a caucasian man. But I kind of liked the attention. We decided to make a date. I asked her if she’d like to see a movie with me on the weekend. She has two daughters, like eight and thirteen. She said if she could get a sitter we’d go out.

This was some groundbreaking stuff for me. All I’d seen of her was her face and her hands. That’s it. The rest of her was completely covered up. I asked her if she was always Muslim and she said the last man she was with was so she got into character. She had expressed that she was debating whether to go back to wearing her regular clothes. But that’ll be her choice. When do you ever see a white guy walking down the street holding hands with a black muslim woman? I’m going to go head and say never! I asked her why she was no longer with that man and she said he was too controlling.

Insecurity is a bitch, guys. Believe in yourself and trust your woman.

So I told her I had to get back to the office and she had to go as well. I walked her up the steps and into the vestibule on 16th street to say goodbye. That’s when I took her face in my hands and kissed her on her soft full lips. She seemed surprised but I saw a green light, so I went for it. She smiled and I could tell it was all okay. I told her I’d be thinking about her and that I’d see her soon. It was a pretty bold move to kiss a black Muslim woman on the lips in public.

But fortune favors the bold.

That Saturday I set up where we were to meet. We were going to see “Meet the Patels.” A wonderful film by the way. See it. It was playing at the Ritz theater in society hill on Walnut Street. I love the Ritz theaters because they always show quality films and it’s quiet and full of responsible adults. Plus the seats are really comfy.

Charlene was driving in, and she seemed to be really struggling to find her way into the city. I was on the phone with her and it was very stressful for both of us. I’m a stickler for being on time when I go to anything related to the arts in any way. And when I say “on time” I mean 15 minutes early. Anyway,  we finally got her there and made it into the movie.  We got some popcorn and settled in the back of the theater and watched the film.

It was a bit of a chilly day. Overcast I remember. After the film we walked around Society Hill a bit. She was a little chilly so I put my coat around her. I was still wearing my signature blazer so I was fine. Normally I’m impervious to the cold so no worries there. We sat down on a little bench and chatted. There was some kissing and cuddling but she was getting cold and it was late so we headed back to her car. More kissing and grabbing ensued. She even said things like “when we have sex” and great things like that. So this was all very exciting to me. She was kind enough to drop me off in Rittenhouse.

There is something simple and sweet about Charlene. She isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but I would rather spend time with someone who is genuinely a nice person than some one that is smart but not a nice person. I’ve met plenty of those assholes. We all have. But there is something to say about the simplicity of Charlene. She’s really happy to spend time with me. There are many things she doesn’t know or understand, but she doesn’t really need to know all of that stuff. She works at her job, and takes care of her house and her two daughters. (Whom I have not yet met.) I kind of like that she seems proud that I’m interested in her. She also seems a bit submissive which is refreshing. Sometimes it’s nice to just spend time with someone who never says shit like “My kind of crazy…” or “I’m a raging feminist.” I think Charlene is the kind of girl who is just happy not to be controlled by some insecure man. She really feels special when you take her out and is very appreciative. It makes a man feel good that he’s with her. That’s rare these days.

So I kept in touch with her but schedules were off so I didn’t see her for a while. I don’t know if I reached out to her or if she to me but I remember speaking with her on the phone. She seemed upset. When I inquired what was wrong she said that they were somewhere and somehow her thirteen year old had gotten in her car and started it and smashed into something. Her kid was fine but that is some alarming shit. She said that she couldn’t deal with her eldest daughter and she wasn’t listening to her anymore. I’m thinking regardless, how did the kid get the keys? I think she wanted me to give her some assistance, but I couldn’t do that at the time. I don’t know if she didn’t have anyone to turn to or what, but I couldn’t do that. I mean, we’d had lunch together. I took her to the movies. I can’t be giving her $500 to fix her front end. I’ve paid out so much in my life, it just didn’t make sense. I like to help people and I’ve been described as a giver, but it was just too early in the game.

I still liked her and was sorry I couldn’t help but that sort of puts you off a person for a bit. But she was still on my mind because she was such a sweet gentle woman and I was attracted to her!  Some months went by and she texted me out of the blue. That was two weeks ago. We’re supposed to meet up for lunch again soon so I’ll continue this saga then. If she doesn’t bail.

Update: She got a job! She had a work conflict so she couldn’t come down. Maybe we’ll go out again sometime.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday at 9am EST.

I publish new Dating content every Monday at 9am EST. I publish Updates and bios and stories about related characters, such as male and female friends and acquaintances on Wednesdays at 9am EST.

Rebecca – Chapter 1 – Dark Wings of Destiny

Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.

Here is still another Tinder date. It’s like I’ve been on a Tinder bender! What if we call that a “Binder” from now on? Do you think that could catch on? I can’t take credit for that SNL winning catch phrase. That honor goes to my ex-girlfriend, Michelle. She wrote that bit. It’s really good. There are girls that say they are funny and there are girls that are funny. Michelle doesn’t have time for bullshit so she sees the truth and the irony in the same minute. P.S.Don’t Bother. Her saga will begin at the end of October.

Out of all of the posts I’ve written, this one is by far my favorite.

So I’ve been swiping right a lot lately. I look at this way, if I say yes to everyone it improves my odds of making more contacts. It’s like sales, if you just call on the clients who have stuff you like,you won’t close as many deals. But if you call on as many clients as possible, your close rate will rise. Sure I get some women whose profiles scream swipe left, but I just never reach out to them when it comes up a match. I hope I never hear from them but if I do I simply ignore them. Fickle bastard that I am.

So Rebecca came up as a match. She’s much younger than I am so I immediately think she’s looking for a sugar daddy. There are several girls looking for that on Tinder. It’s really just a nice was to say prostitute. So my guard is up and I’m ready for the inevitable. So if I’m even the slightest bit interested in a woman I will simply say hello and wait. She got back to me in under an hour.

I always ask the same question. “What prompted you to swipe right on my profile?” Her response was, “I like gentlemen, I’m an aspiring artist, writer and musician, and I love exploring Philadelphia.” Normally that sounds like the perfect girl for me. But I’m still prepared for the red flags that could unfurl at any moment. I tell her about myself and ask her another one of my classic questions: “What do you like to do in your free time?” If the answer is shopping, sleeping, or getting drunk with her friends, she’s probably a crazy loser, or simply a young person. But she says: “I like to go to the museums here. I enjoy the theatre. I draw and sing, mostly opera. I’m also in grad school at UPenn.” She says the Barnes is amazing. Agreed. Who doesn’t want to see a billion dollar art collection all procured by one guy? That place once won me the interest of my last girlfriend. Took her there on our first date. I’ll write extensively about her in a future post.

So I ask her if she’d like to tour a museum with me sometime.

She responds: “Gladly!”

The next thing I wrote was my cell number. Within a few minutes she text me: “Hi, it’s Rebecca.” So I’m thinking maybe this is where she solicits me to be her sugar daddy. I asked her what her schedule is like and she responds that it is a bit of a disaster. I’m like, here we go. She said she was on her way back to New Jersey to go to her nursing job that she works on Saturdays and Sundays. She works as a nurse in an emergency room. Impressive.

We hammer out our schedules and settle on Wednesday 9/14 at 4:30 at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. I think Wednesdays are still ‘Pay as you wish’ so that’s a good thing. I asked if I should just text her that day to confirm and she said yes but wanted to still talk between now and then. I loved that. She also said she wanted to hear more about me and wanted to know about my writing. I told her about what I’ve written in the past and how I currently write a blog. But of course I didn’t tell her what the blog was about. So we chatted back and forth over the next few days. I basically hear from her everyday. It’s refreshing and I like the attention because it’s not overkill. So she gave me her email and I sent her a copy of a screenplay I wrote a few years ago. Well… a lot of years ago!

Even over the weekend she was texting me about her shifts at the hospital and how she had begun reading it. Now that I’m reading her texts on my phone it looks like she has texted me everyday since we connected. She even said that it was so nice to meet a man who appreciates a lady of culture. I told her she is a ‘rare flower’ these days, just to sink the hook.

So we’ve been chatting all the way up to today when she texted me this morning with “Hey! See you tonight!” So it’s on people. I pray that she isn’t crazy or a hooker, but this seems too smooth. If she is nuts or eccentric I’ll be disappointed. All this contact and chatter I hope she is what I hope her to be. But if this blog suddenly stops, please call the authorities because maybe I’ve been murdered and I’m floating face down in the Schuylkill like a kid home from college on Thanksgiving in Manayunk.

I’m going to go hop in the shower and get into character. I’ll finish this after tonight’s date.

Tune in tomorrow for Part II of this exciting trilogy.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday at 9am EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly

I publish new Dating content every Monday at 9am EST. I publish Updates and bios and stories about Non-Dating related characters, such as male and female friends, on TuesdaysWednesdays at 9am EST.

Welcome to Phicklephilly

This blog is about my life here in Philadelphia, people I meet, and the experiences I’ve had with them. Mostly women. I’m a gentleman, but I’ve been told I’m very fickle. My goal is to bring you the best dating and relationship content I can.

I appreciate you reading, commenting on, and most of all following my blog. 

I publish every day at 8am and 12pm EST.

Please check out my Collections tab. There you’ll find a list of all of the great collections of stories that are so fun to read.

Here is a list to get you started!

*** Go to the SEARCH widget on the Homepage and simply enter the name of the series you’re interested in, and off you go!

Here’s the list:

Celebrity Sightings

Crazy Dating Stories

Dating and Relationship Advice

Miscellaneous Stories 

Sun Stories

Tales of Rock

Tinder Moments

Wildwood Daze

 

More to come!

 

I also have several series about all of the people I’ve met here in my 10 years in Philadelphia.

*** Go to the SEARCH widget on the Homepage and simply enter the name of the person and you can read their series!

Annabelle

Carol

Cherie

Clarice

Dina

Eliana

Johnny R.

June

Kylie

Maria

Marisa

Mary

Michelle

Rebecca

Sarika

Trish

Valerie

 

If you’d like, you can just cut and paste the names into the SEARCH widget on the home page and go from there.

If anyone out there knows an easier or a better way to do this please let me know!

Thank you for your continued support!

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly         Facebook: phicklephilly       Twitter: @phicklephilly