I wanted to do this a few years ago, but NOW is the time.
Qui Gon Chaz?
Middle aged Luke Skywalker?
I’ve come to a revelation lately. The older I get, the wiser I become. I remember thinking and saying to my dad how smart he was. He would just say, “I’m just older, son.”
He was right.
He knew he wasn’t better or smarter than anyone else, he simply knew he’d been around for a bit and learned some things along the way.
He was absolutely right.
Although there were certain aspects of my father’s persona he never addressed, he still was a man who had developed cognitive intelligence along the way through experience and through books he’d read.
Socially he was a master and really perfected the art of charming people through manners and diplomacy.
My dad was a great actor and politician.
He knew it, and used it to his advantage.
I’ve met so many people along the way in my journey, and because I’m a giver and sensitive to the human condition, I give people a lot of chances.
Too many chances.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that, but there’s a moment when you have to draw the line and decide to let go of certain people.
If not, you’re continuing to evolve but still have some human detritus in your cache that need to be jettisoned.
They’re not bad people, but they just aren’t a match for your life anymore.
It isn’t an event, or a day when it happens, but you just sort of have a feeling that these people don’t have a place in your life anymore.
You have nothing in common with them, and no longer align with their lifestyle or mindset.
You’ve acquired them on your journey, sometimes by accident or by choice, but there comes a point when you realize as you continue to grow, you have no use for them anymore. They’re stuck. Probably stuck when you met them you just didn’t notice.
Again, they’re not bad people, but you can no longer carry them in your life.
You continue to evolve and move forward with your life, but sadly realize they are so far behind or stuck they can no longer be in your life.
It’s hard. And if you’re kind you’ll actually think about them for awhile. But happily in time… they’ll fade away.
I wanted to cut this person off over a year and a half ago, but I knew they would only stalk me at my job. But now is the time to finally cut the very last toxic person out of my life.
Cut them loose with no remorse. You’ll feel an incredible sense of relief they can no longer live in your mind rent free.
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.
Buy my new book, Angel with a Broken Wing is now for sale on Amazon!
It’s a condition that affects an estimated 3-4% of adults, but as many as 90% of people with ADHD go undiagnosed. That adds up to a lot of individuals – and couples – wondering… is this how it is for everyone else? As a woman with a ‘typical’ brain, 30-year-old Kari Biondi* reflects on the challenges she faced with her non-typical boyfriend.
It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when it became clear that Tom’s brain was built differently to mine – like most other people’s.
We met we were in our early twenties and I was struck by how easily he wore his emotions. He was always super affectionate, would cry openly if he was moved and was able to empathize and strike up a rapport with anyone. He didn’t talk about his feelings or inner life as such, but I suppose I thought it wasn’t necessary given how open he seemed. Other people – men – found his comfort in expressing himself confusing, and when we started dating one friend of his told me that he was surprised: because Tom was so ‘in touch with his feminine side’, as the friend saw it, he’d always thought he was gay.
The flip side to this was what I came to term WTF moments – rare bursts of anxiety triggered by thinking someone was taking the piss. Often people were being lax or just had their own stuff going on – that’s life – but he’d take it personally, becoming hurt and defensive. This is where I got confused – how could someone be so empathetic in some situations but so damning in others? A lot of his friends have been dropped over the years simply for being crap at arranging to meet for drinks.
It was only after we moved in together that some aspects of his behavior began to grate. Overall we had a cozy routine, interesting plans and lots in common – we went to work, came home and chilled – but his reaction to snubs or unfairness could create tension. He would freak if I was late home without letting him know, despite it being something he was guilty of himself. Years passed like this until he admitted that he saw my tardiness as a sign that I’d stopped caring about him and it started to dawn that there was more going on under the surface than I’d thought. Other habits I just found annoying. Cooking together was a nightmare: I’m lazy about following recipes but when Tom cooks every single ingredient has to be weighed exactly. He takes ages, and gets frustrated by that and the inevitable mess from all the precise prep he does.
There are times when I lose him to his deep dives – what I’d later learn were actually just distractions that tap into his brain’s reward center rather than some noble effort to educate himself. As well as airplanes, over the years he’s had obsessions with drones, Japan’s role in WWII, Westerns and watches. I’d joke that he’d be a total boss in any pub-quiz team, but when he comes across a new topic he loves he can be impossible to reach, burying his head in his iPad, scrolling until his interest wanes. I’d call it ‘nerd mode’ to lighten the mood but when he was like that nothing got done and it was lonely. I would get frustrated seeing him ‘entertain’ himself while I’m picking up his shit. More frustrating was when his distractions were more fleeting and he’d be even more difficult to pin down. I’d ask him to help clean up and he’d pull out the hoover, but five minutes later I’d find him online shopping for random things – an oven thermometer and trick yo-yo are two recent purchases that still sit in their boxes. Jobs would frequently get started then dropped.
I coped with this by being pragmatic, accepting that that’s what life with Tom was like. But then, a close friend died and Tom became depressed. He dropped far, sometimes hidden, sometimes loud and dramatic but was even harder to reach. He needed professional help.
His first appointment was with a psychiatrist for a formal diagnosis before moving into therapy and the doctor confirmed the obvious depression but also ran some question-based tests which suggested another thing – that Tom had ADHD. When he came out of the appointment it was almost like he was looking at himself for the first time. He was relieved that support for his depression was coming, but had to feel his way around the ADHD and what it meant for his past and his future. A week later, after more tests, the diagnosis was confirmed.
We both researched the condition but this was where I went full nerd: ADHD didn’t capture Tom’s imagination the way planes had. The more I learned, the closer I felt to Tom and the more I understood his view of the world and found ways to work with him on it – and for him to work with me. Now, if I’m going out, I never give him a ‘home by’ time and check in regularly so I keep control of my space and he doesn’t get worked up. If he’s distracted, I offer up things we can focus on together like going out to eat or watching a film. It’s taken time, but he’s come to understand why he’d act one way when everyone else seemed to behave in another. It opened the door to his inner world, his confusion, his sense of fighting against the world. One thing we still have to overcome is his resistance to seeing some of his behaviors as ADHD and not just ‘Tom’ – that’s a thing for him, that being ADHD somehow depersonalizes his experiences and responsibilities. But the diagnosis has given us the right language to talk about feelings and behaviors and improve our relationship. It’s been a blessing.
What’s the deal with ADHD?
Melissa Orlov, author of The ADHD Effect on Marriage, explains the unique qualities – and trials – of being in love with someone with ADHD.
People who have ADHD have a different kind of neurochemistry and a different physical setup of the brain than people who don’t have it and it’s usually a hereditary condition. It results in very specific symptoms that can include hyperactivity, difficulty initiating and following through on tasks and emotionality, which means that you respond more easily and quickly emotionally than other people do. ADHD also goes hand in hand with anxiety, depression and substance abuse issues.
Chronic distractibility is the number one symptom of adult ADHD, and when you’re a neurotypical – ie, non-ADHD – partner it can leave you feeling unloved or ignored. It’s not that the person doesn’t love you, it’s that the person is distracted. The other big issue has to do with difficulty following through on tasks. Over time, because so many promises are made and broken, the trust in the relationship will erode. Again, it’s not because the person doesn’t love you or is untrustworthy, it’s because they have these unmanaged symptoms.
Between 80% and 90% of adults with ADHD are undiagnosed, and a diagnosis helps the ADHD partner understand the strategies they can use to improve their reliability and performance in the relationship, and for both people in the relationship to understand and interpret the behaviors. If you don’t know that you have ADHD in the relationship, you don’t understand why things are happening or why they’re so pervasive, which is frustrating for both partners.
Almost all of the people that I have worked with who have ADHD are quite emotionally sensitive. It’s a lot to do with shame: ADHD partners have been told their whole lives that they’d be happier and more successful if they work harder and pay attention and so by adulthood they can be sensitive about that and taking blame for things that are beyond their control. Both partners have to understand that they make a contribution to the issues between them.
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.
Buy Phicklephilly THE BOOK now available on Amazon!
Listen to the Phicklephilly podcast LIVE on Spotify!
Sociopaths move through society in the shadows. In terms of danger, female sociopath is the most powerful.
With so many mental and personality disorders, it’s no wonder it’s hard for us to differentiate between them. I know I sometimes have a difficult time with this as well. When studying narcissism, I sometimes get lost in the complicated indicators and characteristics.
With sociopaths, it can be even harder to understand. For instance, the female sociopath, being one of the most conniving personalities, can confound and confuse the best of us, even being worse than their male counterparts.
Who is the female sociopath?
Did you know that gender can influence the kind and severity of sociopathic behavior? It’s simple, really. Different genders possess different hormones which act in…well, different ways.
While the male sociopath has traits like lack of empathy, inability to understand emotion and the use of manipulation, they are fairly easy to spot for someone who has done their fair share of study on the subject.
Female sociopaths, on the other hand, are harder to recognize because of their feminine wiles and ability to blend into society. Females are able to use their cunning and sweet demeanor to weave their way into the lives of unsuspecting victims.
That’s why it’s so important to learn the traits and behaviors of the female sociopath in order to stay free from their snares. Let me reveal their secrets.
1. Mirroring
The female does something that I have often joked about with various people. I have often talked about females who pretend to like the same activities and hobbies of certain men just to get their attention. Well, all jokes aside, this seems to be a real trait of a female sociopath.
Say, for instance, you like a certain football team or you’re a die-hard fan of a series, well a sociopath will mirror this in order to get closer.
She will even go as far as to research the things you like in order to prove she has the same interests. I guess it depends on how well she does her research as to how long she can keep this going. If you’re smart enough, you’ll be able to see through the veneer.
2. Love bombing
A female sociopath has many attributes and characteristics that can catch and hold a man’s attention for a long time. She will use her feminine wiles while “love bombing” you, or rather placing you on a pedestal.
If you’re none the wiser, you will think you’ve found the perfect mate. She will pour on the attention and then pull back in a well-rehearsed dance of sorts. This ensures that she keeps your interests perfectly focused on her and her alone.
3. An unnerving calm
Unlike the normal anger expressed during an argument, the female sociopath will stay calm. When there should be a certain level of anxiety or stress present, she will keep her voice soft and soothing, exuding an atmosphere of sanity around her.
The angrier you get, the calmer she becomes until you look as though you are the monstrous one in the room. Although it is a good thing to remain calm during disagreements, there are times when every normal person becomes angry.
The female sociopath works this to her advantage and utilizes her unnerving demeanor to make you look like the enemy.
4. Quiet destruction
Here’s a tactic that is absolutely one of the most distasteful maneuvers of all. The female sociopath will plant seeds of doubt in anyone associated with her target. Her mate’s family will see her as a good person and every time trouble brews, she will make it look like it’s all in the imagination of her mate.
I’ve seen this happen, and I’ve also lived through it as well. I am thankful that there were people who were smart enough to see the cracks in my sociopath’s plans. Of course, it was a male sociopath in my case.
Anyway, if the female sociopath is successful in planting seeds and seeing them grow, she can watch the total destruction of her mate as family and friends take her side. It’s despicable and sad.
5. There is no remorse
When it comes to the female sociopath, there is little to no remorse for things she does. If she sees something she wants, even if it belongs to another, she will take it anyway. This is especially true in the case of stealing boyfriends, husbands, girlfriends or wives.
This is because of a lack of empathy. The female sociopath cannot feel others’ emotions or either doesn’t care to. Be careful, she will get what she wants or she will fight ruthlessly trying.
6. Expert liars and deceivers
The female sociopath is an expert liar. I am not sure if they actually believe their lies, or if they just enjoy telling them. They will say anything just to get what they want, that’s for sure. And there is no limit as to what they will lie about either.
When they’re not lying, their hiding things yet to be discovered. Sociopaths of this nature, especially females, are good at hiding things and keeping secrets. It is extremely hard to discover the truth…and when you do, they will go into fits of rage deflecting the blame somehow on you.
Please be careful in your relationships
Although there are many types of mental and personality disorders, this is one of the most dangerous. Women are beautiful creatures, but unfortunately, they can use this beauty in a negative way. There are many beautiful people in the world, it’s just important to understand who you’re dealing with beforehand.
Speaking as a woman myself, whenever I see any of these traits or anything remotely similar, I take the time to analyze myself. Believe it or not, it’s easier than you think to crave this sort of power.
I wish you well and hope you cultivate healthy and productive relationships.
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.
“Like Robert Johnson, Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison, he was 27 years old when he died.
And let us not forget Amy Winehouse who also died at age 27.”
Few musicians’ experiences with drug abuse have been as complex and intense as Kurt Cobain’s. For proof of this, see the index of Charles Cross’ 2001 Cobain biography Heavier Than Heaven. If you check, “Cobain, Kurt Donald; drug use of…” you’ll basically be instructed to read the entire book. He started off heavily averse to heroin; during his formative years, a friend suggested they try it and he stopped hanging out with him in response. He eventually tried the drug; when asked how it was by Nirvana bassist Krist Novoselic, he shrugged, “Oh, it was all right.” But his habit escalated.
By the time Nirvana appeared on Saturday Night Live in 1992, Cobain was so deep in heroin addiction that he was vomiting and barely able to stand right until the time came to perform. He somehow pulled it together long enough to play “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and “Territorial Pissings” on live television. In March 1994, Cobain attempted suicide for the first time by washing down a large dose of flunitrazepam with champagne while in Rome. He nearly died and ended up in a coma for a day (Novoselic claimed that, mentally, he was never the same after this).
Within weeks he was back in Seattle, crashing on his daughter’s junkie nanny’s girlfriend’s couch and popping out occasionally to purchase speedballs and burritos. Cross quotes the girlfriend as saying, “He’d sit in my living room with the hat with the ear coverings, and read magazines. People came and went; there was always a lot of activity going on. Nobody knew he was there or recognized him.” By the end of the month, Cobain was given an intervention and packed off to rehab in California. But he soon escaped the facility by scaling a six-foot wall and, improbably, found a seat on a flight back to Seattle next to Guns N’ Roses bassist Duff McKagan.
Despite beef between Nirvana and Guns N’ Roses, the two bonded, finding a great deal of common ground as famous musicians from the Pacific Northwest with heroin problems. Once back at his house, Cobain reattempted suicide and this time he meant business. He injected a lethal dose of heroin and then blasted himself in the head with a shotgun, effectively killing himself twice. Like Robert Johnson, Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison, he was 27 years old when he died.
And let us not forget Amy Winehouse who also died at age 27.
Another sad rock and roll tragedy. Showbiz is the only industry that eats it’s young.
A footnote from phicklephilly:“I never understood suicide. You get one chance to be here, why leave early if you don’t have to? Suicide’s for quitters. I’ve suffered with anxiety and depression my whole life. I’ve beaten the shit out of them both (without drugs) and now we’re all on the same side. Suicide is always a long term solution to usually a temporary problem. I just don’t get it, Kurt. I was in a band when I was younger. It was an amazing experience. Kurt, you play music for a living. You’re in a famous genre inspiring band. You’re surrounded by a gaggle of moist women. Your bank account is full and your nuts are empty. WTF?”
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am EST.
Happy New Year! I’ve been writing this blog for over two and a half years now! I appreciate all of my readers that have stayed with me on this journey of dating and discovery. I want to thank all of my followers who have helped grow the site and I love all of your comments! Keep them coming!
2018 has been an amazing year of dating, relationships, friends, family, self discovery and most of all, love.
I found a girlfriend! (If you’ve been reading this blog I know what you’re thinking, but bear with me. The blog is called Phicklephilly for a reason! See: Cherie)
Also…. I had a goal to reach 50,000 views by Christmas 2018. Thanks to all of you I achieved that number on Christmas day!
Thank you so much!!!
Here’s some of the things you can expect to see in 2019!
Murder Mystery Weekend
I’ve finally decided to try my hand at writing Erotica. It won’t be the usual intense in and out action like most erotic stories. I’ve been working on this idea for a while, and I want it to be a rich and satisfying tale. This series has already begun! Because it’s NSFW (Not Safe for Work) I’ve decided to publish it on my new sister site to Phicklephilly called, La Petite Mort. (There is a link to get to that sight that is live right now!)
The first few chapters will set up the situation and introduce the characters. If you’re looking for the sex, there’s some steam, but you’ll have to be patient. I like a story and character development.
I also have another series starting over there entitled….
Another Life
Have you ever wondered if you exist in another world living Another Life?
I have, and I decided to explore another world that I could have possibly inhabited. In this series I’m a teenager in the late 70’s. My parents are divorced. My stepmom is a bitch. I have roommates. I work at an auto repair shop. I’m close to my uncle and my cousins. I go to college. I navigate this other world and see how this alternate path turns out.
This is part one of a new series I want to write that mixes mind control with transformation elements. This is the first time I have written something primarily based on mind control and while this first part is very smut heavy later parts will have more focus on the mind control aspects for other purposes (as well as smut). I hope you enjoy and please give me feedback, it would really help!
There will also be some exclusive erotic series that I’ll only publish on La Petite Mort so for now they’re a secret. You’ll have to visit the site if you want to read those!
You can find all the goodies there starting in January 2019:
Let me know what you think because this is all new literary ground for me.
Enjoy!
(Read at your own risk, and praying none of my sisters read it!)
As always, your comments and suggestions are most welcome.
Remember, this is my first foray into erotica, so any positive and negative feedback will be very welcome!
California Dreamin’
If you’ve been following this blog for the last year, (and I hope you have!) You read about how I began to tell random stories from my past. (Search: My Young Life) (Wildwood Daze) Many were very personal and I needed to get them out. I was comfortable enough with the regular content and strength of phicklephilly to tell those stories. The feedback and outpouring of assurance was glorious and I thank you all for your words and support!
But I also had the opportunity to write about my young life playing as a musician in several rock and roll bands. Those series ran every Friday in 2018. (Search: Renegade) Wildwood Daze) (Union Jacks)
Now it’s time to tell the crazy, winding tale of my journey from New Jersey to Los Angeles in the early 80’s. It was a mad time to be a young, good-looking musician in a rock band in L.A. So get ready for the real insanity to begin in 2019!!
These stories are some of, if not the most crazy events that I have ever experienced. I’m sure I’m going to be laughing out loud writing them.
And there are plenty!
Cherie
My lovely girlfriend Cherie will continue to appear every Monday at 8am. We’ve been together for a while now and she has well-earned the number 1 spot on my blog. Strap in… it’s going to be a bumpy ride in 2019!
Dating and Relationship Advice
This series really caught on last year. I originally wrote and published it once a week. I just wanted something to fill the Saturday slot. But when a friend of mine ran into some problems in his relationship, I decided to write more. I made a pact with myself that I would write a piece every day and publish every day at noon and twice on Saturday! This way when I didn’t see him he would always have my words to help him through his struggle.
I frankly don’t enjoy writing Dating and Relationship Advice as much as everything else I compose, but people seem to like it. I’m a big purveyor of, “Give the people what they want” So I’ll march on to bring you the best and most up to dating and relationship advice I can come up with! Thanks for making that column a hit!
UPDATE: The more I’ve thought about this the more I want to kill it. I hate writing it and editing it so I’m going to take a break from it at some point. If my traffic drops dramatically I’ll resume it, but if not I’ll stop publishing it. I’d much rather publish content I really love and believe in that’s fun to create, rather than just pounding out content simply for traffic..
UPDATE 2.0: I found a way to keep it going and I hope it works. It will save me a ton of time in the editing process and in the same moment I can support other writers.
I love the idea of Dating and Relationship advice on phicklephilly, but it takes so much time to create and edit, it’s eating up the time when I should be creating fresh content that IS phicklephilly.
But here I am on New Years Eve and I think I came up with a way to make it work.
So for now it’s on for 2019!
Bear with me!
Crazy Dating Stories
These posts have become a bi-monthly staple of the phicklephilly universe. They’re the funniest and most cringe worthy posts on the site’s history. But like I said… my readers love them. Everybody likes a bad dating story, and I have so many to tell. Crazy Dating Stories are like catnip to my loyal following. I love writing them so I’ll do my best to remember them and keep cranking out the trash!
Enjoy!
Sun Stories
Sun Stories have been a monthly series that have appeared on phicklephilly since it’s beginning. There have been so many great tales that have come out of the tanning salon. I have enough to publish an entire book. (I plan to once again try to get Phicklephilly and Sun Stories published as books on Amazon in 2019!)
Highlights to appear this year in Sun Stories will be the introduction of a couple of new characters. (Some enduring, some fleeting)
Chanel – The nerve-wracking and sexy two-part story of the pretty Romanian gypsy that came in from the cold to tan at the salon one night.
Kita – She’s a cute, naive, 20-year-old Asian girl who goes to college in Philly, but lives in Florida with her sister and parents. She loves to tan and is a unique character. I can’t reveal too much, but I’m interested to see how this story plays out.
Jazmin – She’s an exotic, smoking hot Middle Eastern girl who works across the street from the salon at the Guess retail outlet. This is an intense and jarring story about a girl who knew too much… but not enough about one thing.
Tales of Rock
This is my favorite series to write on phicklephilly. As a former musician and rock trivia buff, I love writing these stories. I get a thrill out of telling stories about musicians, sex, drugs and rock n’ roll in general. This enduring series will continue to own the 8am slot every Sunday morning through 2019!
A couple of highlights this year in Tales of Rock:
There will be several disturbing stories about underage girls getting involved with some of the most beloved of rock’s musicians. It’s a lurid series, but someone has to tell these tales. (It might as well be me.)
The Theory of the 13 Year Rock vs. Pop Cycle
This is a 5 part series that runs every Sunday for a little over a month. I did tons of research for this one and I am proud to present this interesting series to my readers! The cycle spans over half a century of Rock and Pop!
Enjoy!
In Search of the Forgotten Heroes of 70’s Rock
I loved writing this post because I grew up listening to these icons in the 1970’s.
Steppenwolf
This one came straight from my heart and soul.
Celebrity Sightings
I’ll continue to crank out stories about local and global celebrities I’ve met in my life. I may even write a few about some actors and actresses I simply adore but haven’t met!
Tinder Moments
I’m sick of these. They’re funny and weird but hard to collect and assemble. They’ll appear monthly through 2019, but after that I’m cancelling this series. (I think online dating sites have been played out anyway.)
Sensuality, Sex & Something Else
I will continue to promote my friend Jad’s blog every Sunday at 3pm. She’s a great lady and her stuff is always a fun read. Whether her series will continue on phicklephilly in 2020 is anybody’s guess at this point. I’ll have to see what the site looks like by then.
Update! Jad has since reached out to me to tell me that she’s met someone special and will not be writing that series anymore. However, she has told me that she will continue to write her blog but it will be private and for her eyes only.
Please join me in wishing her health and happiness in her life!
Thank you Jad for your great stories!
Racquel Writes!
I met the effervescent Racquel on word press. I love her writing and her stories. I decided to feature her every Saturday (Or i it Sunday?) at 3pm on phicklephilly in 2019. She’s a great lady and I hope you enjoy her journey. Please read, comment and follow this wonderful lady’s work! Her series begins next Saturday on January 5th at 3pm EST!
Thank you!
Later in the year I’ve decided to rerun the Rebecca series from 2016. There may be some new developments brewing in that lost relationship this year…
Stay tuned!
So thank you again, one and all for your wonderful support. I’ll continue to deliver quality, unique content this year. I hope you continue the journey with me.
It’s going to be a fun ride!
Life is fleeting and fragile. Enjoy yourself!
I work a lot and when this post publishes I’ll be asleep on New Years Day.
I will arise at some point tomorrow and make my way to the Mummers Parade for a moment.
Thank you one and all for your ongoing support!
Zoolon Forever!
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.
That is like dealing with care, with the difficult parts of someone, who is already broken. The broken pieces have to be mended and always bear the label, ‘handle with care’. Not to be taken with negligence or granted, a relationship with someone having a mental illness is a challenge at some point. You want the person to be as happy, because you love them, but are also sometimes shattered because they fail to stand tall in times of your emotional needs.
Mental illness refers to disorders relating to anxiety, depression, diet, compulsion and so on. Although curable, they are not easy to overcome. Have a look as we discuss how is it to date someone fighting with a mental disorder.
Cancellation of plans is very frequent.
Due to mood swings, they are not sure of what do they exactly desire at the moment. Thus, there are chances that you may be sacked for the plan, impromptu.
It feels like a swing of emotions, when height brings delight and any low, simply seems a bore, but a torture, here.
What It Is Like Dating Someone with a Mental Illness
And you are left figuring out what wrong you have done. While, all this time, you were helping them heal.
Mental illness often encounters diverse emotions, and thus, rules set in the relationship are tweaked due to the mental state.
Communication often turns out to be a problem, because you have to think, A LOT, before speaking anything.
A real problem, but can be gradually resolved with deeper understanding.
Instead of always trying to heal them yourself, stand tall with them in their difficult time, be their strength and they will fix themselves for you. They have their issues to face, thus, simply being the shoulder to cry on helps immensely.
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am EST.
I told Alice not to hire Keila. I just didn’t feel that she had the discipline, experience, skill set and focus to do the job at Alice’s recruiting firm.
I’ve decided to stop writing about Alice and Keila. Alice is a dear friend, but we don’t do anything interesting enough to write about. Hopefully, this will be the last time I write about Keila.
I told Alice not to hire Keila. I just didn’t feel that she had the discipline, experience, skill set and focus to do the job at Alice’s recruiting firm. She lasted about two years there. Alice felt that she would be a good match, because she was a fearless networker and had no problem meeting new people.
But Keila has severe ADD. It’s really annoying to the rest of us who can calmly focus.
I’ve decided to cut her off, because of what she’s done to Alice. My loyalty is to Alice, and I don’t even really see Keila anymore.
Then I realized something. Some of the worst women I have ever met in this city all came through Keila. Birds of a feather flock together. Keila is like this big poodle that’s crawling with fleas and ticks. Because that’s what some these people are. Here’s the list:
Carol (See: Carol – 2014 to 2016 – There’s No Fun in Dysfunction) Crazy wacko who lives with her crazy mother and can’t keep a man or a job. Mess!
Harper (See: Harper – 2014 to 2015 – Plane Crash) Just a straight up lying, fraud and a whore who uses people. Awful!
Bibi (See: Bibi – 2015 – Matinee Madness) Rude, alcoholic loser who can’t keep a job or stay out of rehab.
Brooke (See: Brooke – 2015 to Present – Legs for Days) Okay this one came through Keila but I like her. She doesn’t see Keila anymore.
And many more whack job people along the way.
I’ve cut off all of these people (Except Brooke) and what I’ve needed to do all along was to cut off the head of this two legged dragon. So that’s what I’ve done. I’m done with Keila. She has these networking events and all of these desperate women and nutjobs go to thesee events. She always introduces them as “her new frends” but they’re not her friends. They’re normally desperate souls that attach themselves to her temporarily but after she gets what she wants from them she’s on to the next shiny object that’s her current distraction.
So after what Keila pulled on my friend Alice, I’m done with this one.
There’s some other people I need to slowly faze out as well. There not as godawful as Harper and Carol, but it’s time to start thinning the heard.
Live and learn baby. Step over the detritus in your life and move on.
Stay tuned!
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish Monday through Friday at 8am EST.
Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.
South Street
I once hung out with her on South Street. She bought little Indian finger bells to clear the aura or feng shui of a room she was working on. Then she bought a chair and had me carry it on my head across town back to her apartment. It really was the easiest way to transport it, but I looked like a wicker turtle walking around with that on my head. When I got to her place she gave me a glass of scotch. Then she asked me to turn a big rug in the living room. What am I, the hired hand?
She lived with two or three other people in this house in a crappy neighborhood. She said she used to have sex with her one roommate, but then he got a girlfriend and stopped banging her. So now she says she has to listen to them have sex in the next bedroom. She doesn’t like that. I think it’s funny that she thinks it’s ok to shit where you eat. We had a cig and then she took me up to her room.
For an “interior designer’ it was a bit messy. Her underwear on the floor and what not. She showed me that the room was broken into four “stations” and each one had different magic stones or crystals on the furniture in that space. It was supposed to give off different energies. Yea, just crazy shit. But I will tell you this… Crazy is only good in one room of the house and it’s not the kitchen. At least I got to take that kind of her crazy for a test drive that afternoon.
Seaport Museum
I was invited to an event at the Seaport Museum. I was with Harper on South Street. We were at a bar called Tattooed Mom’s. There was going to be tons of free food and booze at the event. It was if she wanted to get a few drinks into her before she went. Maybe she has social anxiety. But then she tells me she rode her bike to South Street. WTF? So I have to call an UBER, but one that is an SUV, because we have to pack her bike in the back of it. Then drive to her house. Then she has to get changed, so we can then get to the event. I was aggravated and pissed, but I still liked her.
So we finally get to The Seaport Museum. We’re late and you know how much I hate lateness. I get a drink and as I literally walk outside to smoke a cigarette, these dudes bum smokes from me. But before I can lie and say I left them inside, fucking Harper says, sure! Then looks at me for the cigs. I fucking hate that. I’m taking it on the chin for $10 a pack now. That shit isn’t cheap. These guys are around her age and she immediately starts chatting them up like I’m not even there. You treat her really well and she just goes and starts flirting with other guys. She’s awful.
I go inside to get away from these turds and to get another refill because I need it. I run into my pal Johnny R. and I’m happy to see him. He can see I’m stressed about getting down here and her behavior. We get some drinks and chat a bit. He’s with his girlfriend and another couple so he has to hang back with them. I run into another friend and he can see I’m stressed but the booze is helping like always. Knocking the edge right off.
I see another girl who is equally nuts that I know, and I just avoid her and get back to Harper. (See: Kylie – 2014 to 2015 – Broken Wing) She’s done chatting with the smoke bums and gives them her business cards. I know they’re just going to call her to try to bang her. But I can’t worry about that. I think I had such a good buzz on that night I almost bought her a painting she liked. I was not thinking clearly back then.
I once took her to Matyson (One of my favorite restaurants that sadly isn’t around anymore) and she acted like a drunk asshole. Spilling champagne, etc.
Horrible Night
One night we went to a nice wine bar called Tria near Washington Square. I knew the waiter so I got the hookup. She was somewhat well-behaved there but it seems the more she drinks, the crazier she becomes.
After that we went to Indeblue in mid-town. It’s a cool Indian bar. All I remember was her putting stupid cocktail napkins on her head and having me take her picture with the bartender, Awful. Then she wants to stop for one more drink at Fergie’s pub. We go in there and she makes everybody at the bar move down so we can sit down. She proceeds to make fun of the bartender, saying how she thinks he’s mentally dim-witted. She starts chatting with some older dude on the other side of her and then said she was leaving. She asked if I was going to leave as well, and I told her I was staying. She left and I was already chatting with a pretty black girl to my right.
Once she came over to do tarot cards with me and started rearranging the furniture in my house. Oh, and drank non-stop. Insane! Who does shit like that?
I heard from a good friend of mine that on one of her interior design gigs, she rolled a chair into a closet and onto a $5,000 wedding dress. That was after she just dropped her keys onto the client’s Steinway piano when she came in. She didn’t get the job.
I can’t talk about this idiot anymore. It’s making me angry just writing about this lunatic.
This could all be chalked up to a few things. Mental illness mixed with alcohol and drugs.
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish Monday through Friday at 8am EST.
Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.
The Demented Doll.
What’s worse than a Train Wreck? That’s right. A Plane Crash! That’s what this chick is.
I was out with my friend Keila (The girl who knows everybody!) one day at Misconduct a couple of years ago. I think she was between boyfriends. Whenever you’re out with Keila she always runs into people that she knows. She runs a Women’s Networking Collective and meets tons of ladies. She holds these events about once a quarter. She’ll get forty to fifty women out for the event. But in that process she becomes acqauinted with all different kinds of women. I’ve found that in all of my years in business that the people that go to these networking events really need it because they don’t know many people, and are trying to grow their business. Some of the craziest women I have met in Philly have come through Keila. First there was Carol. Crazy. Then there was Bibi. Not good. Now this chick. Bad news.
So Keila says; “My friend Harper is going to join us.” I assume it’s someone she’s known for awhile. Nope. Just another one of those “fleas and ticks” types that keep attaching themselves to Keila.
So Harper shows up and she’s a nice looking girl. 28 years old. Tawny hair, a ring through her nose and some ink. I don’t really care for the last two, but she’s kind of hot. I was attracted to her immediately. Back then I couldn’t identify the crazy like I can now. She sits down and we’re all drinking. I’m digging her. She seems artsy and sweet. We leave Misconduct and go over to Crow and the Pitcher on 19th Street in Rittenhouse.
We have a few more drinks there. Crow and the Pitcher has a guy that just handles cheese. He even has this little cart he rolls out and let’s people pick what they want. Keila is flipping out over the cheese guy. She must love cheese. (Rats also like cheese, but more in a later post) Harper’s very flirty. But she’s sort of flirty with everyone, which I don’t care for. It usually means a girl is either easy or a user of people.
So after awhile we leave Crow and walk through Rittenhouse Square. I whip out one of those electronic pens. The vape thing the kids are all doing now instead of smoking real cigarettes. But this has hashish oil in it. So it gets you high. I don’t use it anymore. Just lost interest. Weed was never my thing, but I get why people enjoy it. I just went through a phase where I was smoking weed, because for the first time in my life I worked for a company that didn’t drug test.
So Keila said she was heading out to get her car. Harper asked if she could smoke some of the vape pen with me. Of course I shared. Harper told Keila that she wanted to stay behind with me and hang out some more. So after Keila left, Harper and I sat in the park and smoked some more and then she said we should stop and get one more drink some where else. I started to think that maybe this girl liked me. (That, or she’s an addict of some sort)
But that was not the case.
Harper attaches herself to a host like the sea lamprey she is and will get everything she can out of them. She doesn’t really have any friends because the only people that hang out with her are women who don’t know her well enough, and dudes that want to fuck her. That’s it.
So we get one more drink at Aldine. Aldine is on the second floor right next door to Drinkers Pub at 19th and Chestnut. We chat some more and I start to learn about what a nut she is.
She’s originally from Mississippi. Lived with her Mother and brother. Not too much data on dad. (Red flag) She currently works as an interior designer. She doesn’t have a degree in that or even a license to do that job. She just “read six books on the subject.” That would be like me watching all seven seasons of Mad Men and saying I know how to create and pitch advertising campaigns to international corporations.
She belived in all kind of astrology stuff, tarot cards, and those gem stones that you put around your house for energy and good luck. It’s all nonsense and superstition. This tells me she’s a dumb person and pretends to be more than she is but is so weird people find her off putting.
It’s so painful to be around her once you get to know her that you just want to cut her off and hope you never run into her again. Here’s what happened on different occassions when I was with her.
She doesn’t even use her real last name. Just a shortened version of it she came up with. Even has the fake name on her business cards.
She told me she once shaved her head and buried her hair in the sand on a beach in New York. That’s bat shit crazy.
Once climbed a tree out front of Friday Saturday Sunday (Restaurant in Rittenhouse) and asked me to take pictures of her for Instagram.
I’ll write more about this harpie in two weeks.
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish Monday through Friday at 8am EST.
“’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all” – Alfred Lord Tennyson
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.
