Everyone's driving a Tesla, but I fancy a bike.
You're the type of person I wish I couldn't like. Intellectually sound with a meandering spirit. You've faulted girls before, but I still want to hear it. Bunny slippers and thick skin, You pay no mind to the lane you're in. Tickled by serendipity, you indulge Personally astonished by the "me" I divulge. My desire is not rooted in the intangible type. I took comfort in being where you set your sight. Under a street light, opportunity and lips locked, Even though neither ship was docked. Converting time and available hours, Leasing the place where idleness cowers. Paralleling pains in hidden trails, Any other comparison this one pales. Until the last page I am intrigued. But alas I refuse to follow the lead.
0 Comments
Didn't know it affected you.
From eastern standard to central standard, from a coastal suburb to the capital of the Lonestar state, my dating life affects you. After each call confessing the toxic nature of the next "catch," you sit disgusted, yet introspective to ensure such powerful reactions are warranted. Your thoughts were never carried across the phone lines we tightrope daily. Thoughts like: It's her life. She's grown. Surely she knows this is-- does she know? Is her judgement that endangered? Is her worth extinct? Does she know she's better than this disgrace of a man? Her track record pretense. It breaks me that she casually excuses his manipulative behaviors, again. No, she's not foolish naive enough to allow the same individual to repetitively... Is she? Disappointment. Oh! I broke two toes... did I forget to mention?To say I'm clumsy is like saying Texas has inconsistent weather. Does tornado warnings, a snow that no meteorologist projected, and then an 80 degree day classify as inconsistent or is it a bit more than that?! This series of events all happened in the span of five days... I might add. Well, on a beautiful October night in Fort Worth, I made the first bone break/fracture/sprain of my entire existence on this planet. My best guy friend in Texas... [Side note: I have 3 best guy friends that are differentiated by location. They have earned their title in this chronological order:
Achem. Now back to the story! **There will probably be several more side bars. I regret nothing** So, he was laying on my bedroom floor while I was accessorizing for our highly anticipated night out (because I have no furniture-- I'm a gypsy, remember? If it didn't fit in my Honda Civic, creatively named Horcholo, it didn't come with me). I stepped over his foot to get something and came down on my left foot, striking the two toes next to my big toe. After screaming profanities, my guy friend offered nothing but shrill laughter and "rub some dirt in it" mentality. Laughing it off, I walked to the door and into the car for the 28 minute drive to one of the most popular stretch of bars in downtown Fort Worth. Meeting up with his crew (consisting of all couples this time), we began our own bar crawl and hit the high points of West 7th Street. "Dude, my toes are killing me," I blurted to "Kitty." "Steph, stop being a little BITCH!" he laughed, ordering two of his go-to vodka and Redbulls. Passing one over to me, we exchanged a smile and I swallowed the pain and the blueberry flavored energy drink with bottom-shelf vodka. In between engaging in conversation with his friends and scurrying over to the dance floor that was illuminated with spinning lights and 10-year-old hip hop, I developed a new dance move: By the time we made it to the last bar, my head was spinning with agony and not enough cheap vodka to numb the pain. "Gosh [Kitty], I'm in a 9 out of 10 in pain and I don't have insurance. What the fuck am I gonna do?" "Shit dude, I don't know," he slurred. "I'm gonna get another drink." "Ayeee!" He cheered. While waiting at the bar, I watched the male bartender on the north side flirt with a pair of blondes while popping open two slim, silver cans. Once setting them on the bar, they were revealed to be nothing other than White Claws. I chuckled at the stereotype and an array of endless memes crossed my mind. He caught me in the middle of a cackle and stared. Phased not in the slightest, I beckoned across the bar, "how are ya?" Smiling, he fired some flirty compliment across the bar I didn't commit to memory. "A vodka soda would be delightful if you don't mind." "Certainly, babe." Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my card as I looked over my shoulder. The two blondes with White Claws were watching. Awk-ward, I thought. Sliding my card on the only part of the bar that was dry, I thanked the flirtatious bartender. Thinking to myself, I swear, if this fool winks at me.... and he did. Good grief, Charlie Brown. I retrieved my card and passed the White Claw representatives. After returning to the table, one of the girls in the group rocking a pair of Vans informed me we were going to stay at her place. "Oh, are you sure?" "Steph, look at him. You really think [Kitty] can drive? And you can't drive a stick." Not in any state to argue with her facts (Lysol kills 99.9% of germs), I nodded and offered a "thanks, girl." We made it back to her and Kitty's best friend in the group's apartment, revealing a sofa-bed for the two visitors, Kitty and I. Needing some air, I walked onto the patio with the girl rocking the Vans. Both feeling our drinks a little, it turned into a confession session. She asked why I was so adamant about me and kitty being friends and colored us as 'a cute couple.' I brought up the past and his reputation in high school, in which he dated 3 of my friends... some, concurrently. Then, called me "Sarah" when he saw me at a bar 7 years after high school. Wait. Hold up. Carry the one.... yup, the math computes: I'm old. She told me what I should've seen then, "But, that was the past...." The stylish girl with the Vans had many other insightful things to say that night, but I am still transfixed on those 5 words. Gah, how many times have I let it rule me, stop me.... and even change me? I always gloat that I wouldn't change my past because... you guessed it-- It made me who I am. But the Stephanie today has to beg the question, why do I let it define a person and actions moving forward? Fear of repeating history. That's why it's a tested subject in school, isn't it? To prevent a revolving hamster wheel reality. This revelation did not hit the drunk, blue-streaked brunette with two broken toes... no, no. Instead, this clumsy creature was hit with the spins, nausea, and a hell of a hangover the Sunday to follow. I stayed balled up on my side of the spring-supported bed until it was time to recover in my own bed. I limped out of Kitty's car and phoned guy friend number 3 to seek medical advice. After free consult from the highly-acclaimed medical trainer, "The Desk" deemed they were broken. Even if I had the concept, an American over 26 with a job that doesn't offer benefits doesn't have the luxury of, the doc couldn't do anything but put it in a boot and collect his/her copay. So, I polled the audience and found a boot I could borrow ;) Shout out to Elle. It's actually quite helpful to have friends as clumsy as you. Like I say in work almost daily, "Empathy only goes so far." My friend laughed with me and wasn't ashamed to walk me while I hobbled. It was quite the fashion statement. Don't believe me? This was actual footage of me before speaking at our Jubilee for work. Oh, I am a community outreach and grief specialist for a sweet adoption agency.... for now ;) Like a stereotypical millennial, sometimes I follow the wind for the next population to serve. GASP! Did she just admit... You bet your friendship I did! Oh, speaking of friendship-- today's blog post is brought to you by a foundation for a delightful loaf bread called Friendship Bread. You can't make the bread without this labor-intensive "starter." "Kitty" could not have been more apologetic when I informed him of the breakage. "Shit, Steph! You were for serious!" "I know you can feel my eye roll through this phone line," I spat. Laughter was exchanged on both lines of the phone and we made plans for his birthday bash. This story became the staple when people asked what happened when they saw my boot.... Feeling a sequel coming on..... hold the drum roll and my earrings! To Start the Recovery of Brokenness, Amish Friendship Bread Starter
Instructions
Through the progression of this blog, I have slowly gathered the courage to stand up to people (not solely guys) that have treated me poorly. I have come to the conclusion that I deserve to be treated like a human; that's all that I ask. Respect needs to be earned but, since I am innately a human, being treated inhumanely is unacceptable.
Those that are supposed to offer unconditional concern often shoot betrayal from their fingertips as snares dangle from their earlobes. Such medieval imagery leaves little hope for complete strangers. How could a new face and new name combat such an evil expectation? It only takes one time to touch a hot element before thinking twice, given another chance. But where does this leave you? Feeling with fear first, and then tiptoeing around life with the leftover emotions? What about feeling sand between your toes, hearing a baby's giggle, or seeing a puppy smile? You have to leave the tiptoeing for ballet and prance into opportunities outside of the studio. It took me until I crossed Atlantic on Christmas Eve night to unfriend a combination of friends, acquaintances, and scrub-a-dubdubs that deemed less than worthy of my effort. Cleaning house is more than just a literal expression for the spring time. I unfriended 10 people and quite frankly, wish I would have done so sooner. A day will always consist of 24 hours (unless you're changing time zones of course, which in my Euro Trip #2, I did so 4 times). Don't. Waste. A. Minute. I won't bore you with all ten, but here is one that we were quite friendly and it looked quite promising for us to go out, but then he stood me up. GHOST the night we were supposed to go out in downtown Dallas. It was already going to be an hour drive, but I felt he was worth that.... he obviously did not feel the same. Although most girls (or guys in this situation) would have removed this person from their phone and their hope chest, I for some reason unbeknownst to me, did not. I must admit, I got a little snappy, but.... one couldn't argue I didn't fight fear to confront the inconsiderate slime. "She's got a ticket to ride and she don't care." Beatles bumping, spirit flapping, and mind buzzing, she does it again.I'm trapped. Strapped. Secluded. Isolated. I need out. Need something new. "I'm begging you to be my escape." After watching relationships of ones I love, my heart bled for their misery. This was especially true when I inquired of the reason for starting the relationship. My level of astonishment couldn't be measured. This isn't a romantic comedy where the music shift foreshadows the revelation of the protagonist. This music was never turned up. They exchanged their dreams of "happily ever after" for 5 minute sex and a cigarette after or a sunset with nightmare laughter. They jumped out of singleness, painted gloomy into taken, shackled with diamonds. No one bothered to chip away at the paint, they just wanted a highway to happiness. I can't blame them--- certainly sounds like a highway I would set the cruise to 90 on. But, what the signs don't tell you is this is not "the" highway to happiness, there are always alternative modes of transportation to achieve this ultimate goal. The signs offer no warning that the road may take you to a similar fog from happiness you're currently enduring. Daylight and Sunlight are NOT the same thing!I recently learned this difference in both Prague and Reykjavik.... but, I'm getting ahead of myself here. Some people feel that they would have it all if they just had a significant other. That mentality leads to settling and agreeing to that person because of a delicate equation of time spent+morals-patience/time left. This isn't proven with mathematics or science, but just what I've noticed from women (and one man) that I respect and used to admire--- idolize their marriage. Prior to this observation, I was venturing out into new states and opportunities, hoping to be rerouted with a "good find." For the right person, I was open to slowing up so we could prepare to launch somewhere together. My imagination scribbled plans of following his job and starting anew a build a network because he would already have our direction. It wasn't until the corruption of the marriages I adored loosened their bandages that I removed my gaze from cloud-framed imagination and I amped-up my hustle. Put in longer hours, said no dates (while spending no effort on excuses to suitors), and cut my spending in half. Put up signs for a garage sale and hit the library in the Non-Fiction section. After pouring over 10% of the geography books 3 branches in Fort Worth had to offer, I spread my wings to Dallas and received notice from a friend with a mutual obsession for travel. A week later, it was official: I had my own ticket to ride. .....Actually, I got 7 tickets to ride. On Christmas Eve, I kissed my family, tradition, and a ham feast goodbye as I boarded a 787 Dreamliner to London. Nontraditional, not regrettable, and inevitably unforgettable. For the next 19 days, Prague, Brussels, Bruges, Dublin, Howte, Glasgow, Edinburgh, and Reykjavik became my temporary home. I became my own ticket and took my imagination for a ride. There is more that fuels you than a significant other; find it and pursue it passionately. Be Your Own Escape like the Blue Lagoon was to me in 32 degree weather in Iceland. |
AuthorChef Steph cooking up trouble. If she can't find anything real, she bakes real good sweets. Chocolate really may mend a broken heart... Archives
April 2022
Categories
All
|