Oh boys of Philadelphia, how do you manage to be both be never around when I want to see you yet everywhere when I don't. It takes you three days to return a text message but I can't make a quick pop into H&M on my lunch break without running into you on the street. I am never the one to see you first and I usually have no idea how long you have been standing there scoping me from behind a telephone pole. You stealthy bastard, you're like a Visa card; you are everywhere I want to be and even some places I don't.
You're too disinterested to be stalking me, but just attentive enough to make me wonder about our several, frequent coincidental meetups. I don't want to be in a kung fu movie, but pretty soon I'm gonna start expecting you to drop from the ceiling clad in all black like a real ninja. This city is either too small or you have somehow become the king of coincidence.
Boys of Philly, just contact us through the many forms of communication available to you and stop being so creepy. You are too old to pull a Jordan Catalano i.e. roll up to me all nonchalant and act ridiculously casual like it ain't no thang but a chicken wing on a string that we even ran into each other. I'm just saying that it's pretty transparent. Grrrr. Ok. Rant over.We have to agree with you there; this is a small town. It's almost uncanny how you'll manage to run into the one person you were avoiding pretty much every time you leave your doorstep. Our solution? Become a hermit, obviously. Well, either that or pretend like you're suddenly both blind and don't understand English. Whatever's easiest.