Let's Pretend I didn't warn you this would happen; I'm no fortune teller, but I knew two poets were a spiraling water spout. I was astounded that you would spend your literary gift on me. I'd be lying if I said I thought you would spend romanticism, letters, and songs on me. Let's pretend I wasn't impressed by your willingness to venture to a new place for first date. Let's pretend we didn't have our own version of "You've Got Mail," but possibly better. And let's pretend I don't still have those emails, more than a year later. Let's pretend you didn't think you'd be the envy of all my friends with the weekly flowers. Let's pretend I wasn't as disappointed the hurricane spoiled our plans for our weekend getaway in Maine, complete with arrangements for my best friend to tag along. Let's pretend I didn't get giddy like a schoolgirl when family followed my advice to call the missed reservation office to get a partial refund, but you called me "your girlfriend" in your explanation to the customer service person. I wish I could pretend we actually went on that trip that I thought was bound to be one of the cutest first dates. Let's pretend your liquored words didn't chip away at your established chivalry and that you didn't try to pin alcoholism on me in the end. Let's pretend you didn't practically blacklist me from your publications, which you swore you'd never do "regardless of how it ends." Let's pretend you would have actually given me the space I asked for. My, things could have ended without spats via email, painful poetry, immaturity at its finest, and blame for why good guys are extinct. Let's pretend I wasn't invested in an artist I never met that painted me in lights I seldom allowed; that's why when your light turned to shadows of villains, I closed the book on my passion because you were my muse for months. Let's pretend it didn't revive demons most people couldn't imagine fighting; thanks for that. Let's pretend your increase in followers and pity didn't add to the list of "self-proclaimed victim's" in my life. Let's pretend I'm the loose, heart-breaking, materialist, alcoholic narcissist you swindled your fans into believing. Oh.... guess according to you, it's not pretend. Let's pretend the sting of your backlash didn't tarnish the honey of your courting; the poems, the songs, the serenades, and even your published works-- spoiled.Like your story, these contents are robust and complex. To get to the sweet stuff, the steps are intricate and requires precision.Beesting CakeFilling:
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This post could be robust with gratitude for the blessings I've encountered, but you've heard the lists and I'm sure have drafted one of your own. This is supposed to be a dating blog stuffed with humor and adventure, complimented by jaw-gaping reactions. So, for once, I'll give the people what they want.....Baha had to say that aloud. One thing I'm ever so thankful for is every day that passes without receiving an unsolicited dick pic. If you've been following DatesandCakes for awhile, you may recall the series on dick pics where I polled other women about their encounter with this sick fad and their reaction to them. My "favorite" (if you can select the best of the worst) dick pic (because I'm still in awe of his.... umm, creativity?) was the guy that decorated his dick with the drawing feature on snapchat and turned it into a turkey. You heard me--- err read me. Here's the story for extra laughs. This was Thanksgiving 2017, yet in 2019 I'm still dealing with the same issue, different volume. ;) This guy, Mr. South D, was nice and not too cute, so I thought I was safe. Safe from threats of getting hurt since he lived in another state, safe since he was a sports coach for adolescents, and safe since I have this facade that guys that don't look like Channing Tatum, nor are they striving to be of such man-candy stature, aren't going to be "skum between my toes." My reality OVER My expectationsWe My best friend has pointed out to me tirelessly that although she gets hurt too, at least the guys she dates "are more attractive. Steph, if the inevitable is heartbreak, at least it can be with a hottie that made you drool a little."
Well... can't quit cold turkey, but hopefully I won't have another Mr. South D. This guy seemed sweet, with a sprinkle of selfishness. We had a notorious Snapchat streak of pictures back and forth with silly pics for at least 40 consecutive days. Nothing sexual, nothing too boring-- just two flirty singles living day to day as 8 second pen-pals with 18 character messages. So, it was no stirring love story but, I didn't think it would end in an unsolicited dick video. Live and in action and something I thought this "sweet guy" wouldn't have just sprung on me OUT OF NO WHERE. My favorite part is that when I gave it to him (don't get excited, I mean screamed via text about what warranted that and how other recipients may have liked it, but I felt it was disrespectful) and he never denied sending it to other girls. THEN, to add to it, he BLOCKED ME. So, to exemplify my surprise, here's your surprise pieWith all that candy, it seems sweet, but the flavors may just be a little too much. INGREDIENTS
INSTRUCTIONS
Let's Pretend:You don't still have some of the best years of my life. I've had as much fun sneaking around in any setting than that dorm with you. Our first kiss didn't shock me to my core. Electrifying. Grr-grrr-grrrease lightening Our last kiss was something I thought would happen-- like we would die holding hands like in The Notebook. The end was only rocking-chair-rocky and that I was fair to you. I didn't keep your letters; every last one. I didn't hide the 3 scrapbooks full of memories from myself. I don't feel a sharp pain deep in my abdomen when I see your name pop-up on my best friend's phone. I've forgotten: the passion, the tears, the ambition, the phone calls, the encouragement to pursue our dreams, the endless laughter, the insiders, the adventures, the parents (all 3 of them~not including mine), the differences, the concerts, the chocolate, the plans... and how God had a different one in mind. The "me" we allowed each other to be were beautiful. I don't think I'll ever see that girl again and I can't pretend that's not a loss. A burial of the most powerful force I've encountered yet, and the dirt is still under my painted nails.. Sometimes, I acknowledge that's all I have left.I heard this song today and couldn't help but interpret it as his final thoughts. Maybe I'm no Selena, but boy did these raw words circle her in red. For awhile now, I've been trying to resist from checking on you. I know you're thriving and, I guess I'll have to leave it at that.Heat is out in the oven tonight, so no chance at 350.Let's pretend I didn't push you away after hours exploring a national landmark at a preserved park. I preserved my emotions and sailed on the spontinuity waves of living life unemployed together. I still have trouble believing you picked me over her. That's possibly why I never picked you. I never picked the possibility. Let's pretend I didn't freak when you tried to be intimate. Not with your clothes off, but actually connect. Let's pretend you didn't notice my distance and forgave me anyway. Let's pretend I didn't crumble in your car that afternoon I gushed my turmoil to deter you from a broken woman; I still wish those were things you never knew. I don't ever think I'll see you the way you saw me and I wish that didn't scare me. You were okay with me dating other guys, okay with whatever relationship I wanted, and okay with me constantly ragging on your favorite city. Yet, I was okay with letting you go. I was okay with venturing alone. I was okay even when I revisited us physically after that coffeehouse concert. I realized in at least one way, you were just like the others and then I no longer pretended. I had a sweet spot for him.... for a season. I valued my time alone so much, I couldn't imagine him or any other flavor consuming my time. It's not always "the guy," sometimes it really is you and your needs in the moment. Sometimes I love the smell of candy corns, other times I couldn't be bothered.He's no flake, so I omitted the coconut.
I used a box of graham cracker crumbs, but if you only have actual graham crackers, process them in a food processor until they are a fine crumb. Stir into butter. Press into the bottom of your prepared pan. Sprinkle white chocolate chips, peanut butter chips, coconut, and candy corn over the top. Pour sweetened condensed milk evenly over the top of the bars. Bake for about 25 minutes, until they get golden around the edges. Cool completely before slicing into bars. https://www.crazyforcrust.com/candy-corn-magic-bars/ Let's pretend allowing you to take me to my favorite Disney movie in live action didn't mean everything; you found my "nerding out" adorable. Let's pretend I didn't want to climb all 6 foot 4 inches of you and drown in those damn turquoise eyes. Let's forget about your constant laughter at any wink of humor that spilled from my burgundy stained lips. Let's pretend I didn't see this coming when you disclosed your hometown is nestled "deep in the heart of Texas." [I have such a history from guys that took a toll: all but one or two originated from Texas] Let's pretend I wasn't the first girl to tell you no, and that's why you sprung for date #2. Let's pretend you weren't impressed with my internal music encyclopedia. Let's pretend I didn't catch on to your inconsistency in stories, priorities, and ex-fiance. Let's disregard your failure to mention you lived in another state. Let's pretend we never went to the beach that Sunday morning after coffee. Let's pretend I didn't notice where your eyes settled when you saw me in a swimsuit. Let's not revisit the shame your reaction had on my self image, self esteem, and well.... my...self. Let's not highlight the disgust you exhibited and how you refused to touch me. Let's pretend that although I had built up confidence in my internal attributes and sunshine smile, it wasn't built to weather this kind of disapproval. Let's pretend I wasn't raised on measuring up (or the lack their of). Let's pretend that I, like most the girls I know, didn't battle body dismorphia. Let's pretend I didn't watch the woman I idolized shrivel to bones and thin skin because of exterior circumstances spurred by internal ones. Let's pretend you were concerned with anything other than bringing me back home like a troubled youth you were stuck with for community service. Let's pretend I've thought of you TWICE since that Sunday.... oh, because I haven't. Whether you wanna splurge on a dessert without as many calories or you just happen to have the ingredients on hand, here is a "Skinny" Chocolate Chip Cheesecake Bar Recipe.
A $45 parking ticket, rejection letter from Phase 4 of the job you were dreaming of, and news you'll have to be in "the boot" for 2 broken toes 2 more weeks couldn't contribute more to the notorious "Manic Monday." When the door AND windows seem closed.....Since my soul never quite seemed kindred to one place and I have a fervid fascination with strange places and foreign people, I believed being a Flight Attendant would be my calling. Our neighbors are strangers until we engage them. My best friend I sat next to on the bus and began cracking jokes with was once stranger. The most influential boss I've ever had was a stranger until she hired me. My ex's were all once strangers... and are yet strangers once again. I've never seen the word as negative, but almost as alluring. As a child, I earned the reputation of a leader and if no one followed, I slowed my momentum only slightly. I've never followed high fashion or most mainstream music. My own father called my strange this week since I can fit (strategically) everything I own into my silver Honda Civic. Strange is familiar and maybe, just maybe that's the reason I feel so comfortable in cities that have never heard my steps. This desperation for new environments, cultures, and entrees drove me to apply to 9 airlines to become a flight attendant. What better way to meet as many diverse people and see as many cities on someone else's dime than to be the eye in the sky!? Well, after I never heard from 6 of them, I waited eagerly for Delta, since I've passed 3 phases since August. Today, that journey ended for this application. Sure, I can try again next season... As "You Had a Bad Day" bounces in my cranium, I can't help but feel this rejection trumps any prior boy rejection I've had this year. Quite frankly... I can only recall two.... One was Mr. Makes me feel like a Barbie and the latter was flip a girl for her friend. Apparently flipping a coin just wouldn't do.... Now that we've had a good laugh and a bittersweet memory jogger (doesn't possess the endurance to be a runner), I smile from the encouraging texts from friends and sigh. Sigh and smile. Like a Cars' song, this was "just what I needed." <3
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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
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