Refusing to Date: Part 5; Cancelling My First Date

11 days to go.

I’ve been planning a trip to Philadelphia, PA for the past month to visit a friend I haven’t seen in 8 years.

To spend a weekend with Him.

My plan was to leave for Philly on the 26th, and head back home on the 29th.

11 days from today.

I would have left Him on the same day I left my ex fiancé, exactly 1 year before.

That never felt right. (Strike 1)

After weeks of financial uncertainty, today I found out I have to cancel my trip. (Strike 2)

He called after I got home from work and I told Him.

I’ve been watching It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia for the past 3 days (my second trip through the series) and only tonight do I affix my thoughts on the Philly scenes I won’t experience next weekend: The Italian Market, Barnes Foundation, Liberty Bell, Independence Hall…

Since we reconnected on my 32nd birthday via Facebook messenger, He has been my closest confidant, aside from you, my readers.

He yanked me from the pits of my deepest plunge into depression. We’ve talked everyday since early January, some days for hours at a time (10 hours and 9 minutes in a single day, a few weeks ago).

The past four months have been a whirlwind of comfort and conversation with substance and a full disclosure of our passions and dreams. He helped me find myself again, after the “divorce“.

In those four months, strange things have occurred; random things; coincidences that are too confounding to comprehend. A new sign each week, sometimes more.

That’s the definition of fate, according to Google.

Tonight I struggled with the bottle of wine that’s been in my fridge for the past month, a homemade Malbec. I took 2 sips and poured it down the drain.

I promised Myself I wouldn’t drink on a weekday.

I’m not sure when we’ll meet again. It’s already been 8 years since we were on our first and last date. I hope we get another chance, before life gets too crazy again.

On a brighter note:

A CLOTHING LINE!!!!!!! 💖💖💖

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