I started out dating one at a time; Diligent— no, hopeful of a good find. But as longevity became more rare, I internalized that I must scare; Scare them away from something I lack They vanish in silence with absolutely no tact. A dating history like mine belongs in a song. Promised forevers? They just don’t belong One left in fear of my past Another feels no good things will last. More than one was afraid to commit One left to go raise his kid. One left on the first date but caught the bartender’s eye One left only after intentionally making me cry. There was the notorious on again/off again with his ex Or the one in a relationship he hadn’t told me of yet. The one that left because I was too far away Or the ones that left me when I just wanted to play. The one that left because I was not what he wanted Or the ones that left because I was too easily hunted. Or the controlling one that fiercely refused to share; My time with my friends going “God knows where.” There’s the one that so swiftly, pushed me away Or the one filled with rage— tried to force me to stay. There was the one that was critical in all that I did Or the one that left since my dancing, he could not rid. There’s the one that left me for my friend, boy did that feel good, But immediately he was rejected— like my best friend should. One left after tiresome attempts, he realized my morals couldn’t be swayed. One left after a drunken fight, but the chivalrous role, he certainly played. What about the one that left because my feelings were too strong, Or the one whom felt in his “perfect world,” I didn’t belong? One couldn’t leave quick enough upon discovering my religion. Another left because his depression didn’t offer another decision. One left because he pictured me better as a friend One left because, and I quote, “I deserve a ten.” Wish I had a dollar for the ones that left because they didn’t get that one thing; I’d have enough for the class they couldn’t afford, a hammock, a boat, and a ring. There’s the one that left because I wasn’t the size That he could easily bench-press at his gym inside. But there’s many that left with not a syllable as to why; Have you tried to reach closure without a goodbye? Now that’s not to say that I haven’t initiated the leaving with lots; There’s a few I set free that still cloud my memory in spots. But I’m confident of the dozens I’ve found, That my ultimate star is still not around. Optimism and patience are just enough for this rhyme, So I’m waiting for guidance from the truly divine. The handsome Mr. Right couldn’t possibly be one that left Because to him, I’ll be a woman he couldn’t fathom to forget.
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Showed up 32 minutes late, only to talk about himself the entire time and then ask our waitress to split the bill. Not to mention, the food was mediocre at best. I wish I was exaggerating or just being bitter there was no "spark," but the boy learned absolutely nothing about me at that 45 minute "date."
What a waste. He wasted my resources, leaving me in annoyance and with a deep desire to get wasted. What resources could a bad date have possibly wasted Stephanie? My resources: time, energy, cute outfit, and great hairdo (if I do say so myself). I'd say he wasted my wit but he didn't allow me to speak enough to utilize it. Unfortunately, there's no way to avoid this from happening with another guy because how do you screen for that in the texting stage? "Lol you're so cute;) Hey– do you mind taking this survey?" It would read something like this:
​The Bounce Back
Since I don't think I'll have many takers for my survey, we'll have to continue jumping in head-first to dating. The key to online dating is the resilience to pick yourself back up, review what you learned, and keep going. This sounds simple or mundane even, but sometimes life is just that. At the end of this winding journey, at least you can count on: a cute wardrobe collection, enough wit and jokes to become an opening act at Hyenas' Comedy Club, and you'll be able to impress your grandma with a new bundt cake recipe. If that still doesn't help the fact that you're still alone... the cake does have wine in it and only uses just under a cup and a half... so there's always that. Red Wine Chocolate Dream
Instructions
In case you’re wondering, there is no rhyme or reason to the sequence of these date stories. Some of them are from 8 months ago and some, 8 days ago. I don’t see the importance in disclosing them chronologically for three reasons. Reason number 1: some of these stories take longer than others for me to come to terms with and put them on paper. Once I put a guy’s story in ink, it’s like I’m letting a piece of him go, which ultimately, was a piece of me. Sounds pathetic, especially when most of them did not last past date 3 but hey— it’s me and I want to be real with you. Reason number 2: mystery is something enticing to the soul so I smile at the fact my reader or, if I’m lucky, readers (thanks mom– you're the real MVP) are never sure what’s around the corner. Emotions, emotions, wham— Dick pic! He was perfect and I wasn’t feeling it, then it was mutual, and then ever popular, he vanished. All of these are true in the rawest form, so why not release stories I feel at that time? Reason number 3: I never could quite grasp the fundamentals of statistics but, there is some probability that the guys I’m writing about are bound to, at one time or another, stumble upon an article all about them. Sporadically reporting my dates without matching the timeline, originally experienced, may throw off that possibility. But hey- I’ve never received hate mail and I’m sure it will make juicy blog content so… Bring. It. On. *Spirit Fingers* This story takes place at the very beginning of my relocation to the east coast. I had been on countless dates for drinks before leaving the Lone-star State so, this unique date invitation sparked my interest. This Canadian invited me to his house for a game night with his roommates, so I drove myself with an escape route in place. I would abstain from alcohol so in the case that I need to flee from the house/situation, I’d more than able. So instead of bringing a six pack, I baked a batch of easy cookies because mom raised me on the fundamental rule that you must never visit someone’s home empty handed. I can still hear her matter-of-fact tone like it was yesterday… oh wait, I think that was the last thing she said on our daily long-distance-phone-call just yesterday. So after a patron shot and making these [Mix a box of brownie mix, 1 egg, 1/3 C canola oil, and 1 C white chocolate chunks. Put spoonfuls on a baking sheet. Bake for 11 minutes on 350 degrees.] I showed up at the Canadian’s house for our first meeting. I wasn’t nervous in the slightest because I was born an extrovert, smiling at the doctors and all. When he opened the door, he was a lot taller and less attractive than his pictures portrayed, but I smiled and followed him inside. Handing him the cookies, I noticed his roommates were sitting around a table in the living room awkwardly. He informed me they were having a "meeting" before the games could begin (literally). While he got me a chair from the kitchen, I turned to his roommates and inquired of the type of group this was. Guilt swept over their round faces. One of them, the one with sunken eyes and greasy long hair, darted his eyes to a black messenger bag at his feet. Immediately alarmed I was about to be witness to a drug deal, I started sweating. A girl with dark eyes and dark hair stirred. “Uhh.. it’s an AA meeting,” she stammered. To say I was dumbfounded is a vast understatement. ANYONE that knows me knows this is the LAST place I would be. I pregamed for goodness sake! I’m sure my face said it all. I flashed a smile their way and proceeded to the kitchen in such a fashion that you would have believed something was on fire. He was about to be if I had matches on me. I knew I should've put some in my back pocket for a bonfire or if my "date" sneakily invited me to an AA meeting. Flabbergasted, I had choice words and no words all at once. Raising my eyebrows and crossing my arms I managed to whisper, "Yeah, this isn't my thing..." He grabbed my hand and drug me upstairs to his room. WHAT? He made small talk and my polite ass joined in his conversation! I didn't want his roommates to think I was judging them but I had to get the fuck out of there! I made up an excuse about a migraine, which I later got, thank you karma, and made my way downstairs. He followed me like a lost puppy, so I picked up speed. Practically speed walking through the room where the AA Meeting was central focus, I made it to the door. Like a frightened girl in a slasher film being preyed upon, I grabbed the handle with purpose and power and swung it open, not looking back. I could here him trying to entice me to come back next week. Once at my car, I turned around and was unpleasantly surprised with a kiss. I'm sorry- what PART of this "date" did he think went well?! And to top it off, he persisted to text me for two days after the fact. He made me spell it out: I am Stephanie and I am an alcoholic and not interested. Now I wish I would've brought the 6 pack instead of the cookies; watching them fight over it live wolves would've made this date worth it. The conversation ignited. It didn’t hurt that he was BY FAR the most attractive one I found on the site you try to avoid getting stung. He was adventurous and just sweet enough but certainly had a track record, in which he openly revealed to me. Damn, he was sucking me in, I could feel it. I’m a sucker for guys opening up to me; call it my counseling thirst but, when a guy that peaks my interest discloses personal things about himself, things that have been since buried, I’m hooked. Dazzle me with some pretty words with a sly smile… I’m in trouble. I should’ve know from his tendency to leave a place within 2 years of arriving. I should’ve known from his failure to make eye contact when discussing past girls. I should’ve known from his beachfront property bachelor pad. I should’ve known from his blatant free-spirited manner. I should’ve known from him taunting deletion of the app for me— staying in this town for me. But honestly, what blog content would I have if I would have been insightful about all those things? No. My love-hungry, gullible as a toddler self, ate his words up for dinner. Then, him whispering, “I think I could love you” was dessert. I chose a recipe that requires hours to set-up. It requires hours to rise from the yeast in a dark, warm place. It begs for attention to detail and precision. This is by far the most intricate recipe I’ve shared on Dates and Cakes; but this isn’t to stand as a portrayal of him— of his depth and time we shared, it’s quite the contrary. Life is filled to the brim with ironies: those dying to be in love and those that died being in love. A comedian died of deep-rooted depression and suicide. A singer, whose message was to hold on, eventually let go. An actor renown for his presence in a Fast series, died behind the wheel of a car. The leader of the band named Heartbreakers died of a heart attack. I have no words that can ease the sting of irony… especially ones as fatal as these. I can, however, share a cake fit for kings because I will forever believe these 4 men where nothing less of royalty. King Cake 1 stick butter + 1 Tbs divided ~(don't be salty it didn't work out- you'll find your king) 2/3 C evaporated milk 1/2 C sugar divided 2 tsp salt 2 packs of active dry yeast ~(you'll really kneed this) 1/3 C warm water ~(the temp you would like a hot tub) 4 eggs 1 Tbs lemon zest 2 Tbs orange zest 6 C All Purpose Flour ~(cake is your purpose.. even though this is more like a bread) Filling 1 stick butter melted ~(remember, salty kings not allowed) 1/2 C packed brown sugar ~(he thinks he's packing) 3/4 C sugar 1 Tbs cinnamon 1 pack cream cheese mixed with 1/2 C powdered sugar Topping 1 egg beaten 1 C sugar colored green, yellow, and purple (MARDI GRAS Colors Baby!) 2 plastic babies Melt, not because he's a 9 out of 10, but melt a stick of butter in a saucepan. Add milk, 1/3 C sugar, and salt. Cool to lukewarm (Luke, I am not your father or your boyfriend). In large mixing bowl, combine 2 1/2 Tbs sugar, yeast, and warm water. Let stand 5-10 minutes until frothy (while drinking a Frothy Beard Beer). Beat eggs into yeast mixture. beat in milk mix and zests. Stir in flour (1/2 C at a time). Reserve 1 cup to spread over a surface as smooth as his golden hair. Turn dough and think of all the things you kneed while doing just that to the dough for 5-10 minutes till smooth. Grease large mixing bowl with remaining 1 Tbs of butter. Place dough in bowl, turning to grease top. Cover and let rise in warm place for 2 hours, the length of time y'all spent making out. On floured surface, roll a dough 1/2 into 15X30 rectangle. Brush with 1/2 filling and melted butter. Cut into 3 lengthwise strips and combine sugars and cinnamon- sprinkle 1/2 mix on strips, leaving 1 inch lengthwise, leaving the edge free for sealing fold each strip toward center, sealing seam; hott boys are not always what they seem... Layout 3 30 inch strips with sugar filling in each and cream cheese mix. Then braid and make a circle (join ends). Duplicate, which shouldn't be hard to find another hott guy in this beach town. Make other dough look the same, braid and all. Place each ring on 10X15 baking sheet. Cover with damp cloth for 60 minutes till doubled; you can let it rise while he accompanies you to church. Top by brushing with egg. Sprinkle with colored sugar, alternating colors (purple, yellow, green). Bake 350 degrees for 20 minutes. Remove from pan immediately to prevent the sugar to harden like his heart did quickly. Hide a baby in each cake and share with your king... when you find him. They say “it’s the journey, not the destination” but my train is caught between now and then,
Conductor says, ‘expect delays and layovers,’ while I’m pondering my zip code or his, coffee or gin Feeling more than basic yet visually, I’m somewhere between comfort and porcelain, I operate on optimism, awareness of others’ feelings, and chocolate, dark as sin My rationale’s light source is somewhere between sentiment and intellect; Although, the girls with flexible morals are the ones guys seem to collect. Easy persuasion must be more appealing, and submission to the temporary loved feeling. But surrendering on a whim is something I cannot bare, to act now and stifle the conscious with whimsical care. But on the other hand, what is life without risk Love is quick to leave you in the cold, instant brisk. The whistle’s blow drenched me in panic, time, like my youth is perished. The train has left the station and me without a romantic interest to be cherished. While patronizing myself in the mirror, it's only patience I lack, Caramel, dark chocolate, and pecans should put me right on track. Together, this makes turtles which is the pace of life's train. Unwrapped Kraft caramels and melt on the stove top in evaporated milk- plain. Stir constantly on medium heat, once completely melted, you're in for a treat. On a sheet of wax paper, arrange pecans in triangles of threes. Then, scoop about a tablespoon of hot caramel on each one of these. In the microwave, melt at least 12 oz of dark chocolate on 50% power; All together this dessert won't take nearly an hour. Dip each carameled nut trilogy into the chocolate... You'll want to put more than just one in your pocket. So remember that you can make any journey sweet;with these turtles nearby, you'll never face a defeat. It's the most wonderful time for a beer.
Skip the tinsel and shopping And start the bar hopping, To bring on the cheeeeeeer! It's the most wonderful time to drink beer. You hear those shakers shaking and cookies baking oooo-oooo! It's lovely weather for a tini together or two. Because the leaves are falling and dates are calling yoo-whoo! It's lovely weather for a tini together or two. Giddy up, Giddy up, Giddy up, let's go, In the south there's no snow We'll hop in a kayak and we'll gooooooo. Giddy up, Giddy up, Giddy up, it's grand, Just hold someone's hand. He won't stay past the season, but that's okay Our cheeks are nice and kissable but hopefully not too miss-able ooo We're snuggled up together but he'll change with weather ooo. Single Bells, Single Bells, Single all the way. Oh what fun it is to meet a different guy each day- Hey! Mingle Bells, Mingle Bells, Mingle all the way. He might run but it's still fun, next try a different way. Come they told me ba rump bump bump bum. I'm going to the club to shake-a my bum. He's furthest from a king ba rump bump bump bum. But he'll buy you a drink ba rump bump bump bum rump bump bump bum rump bump bump bum. And your drinks you'll clink rump bump bump bum Then that's done. Single Bell, Mingle Bell, Single Bell Rock She's got no ring but it ain't no thing. Movies and cocktails and cruising 'round town Dont' let feelings bring you down Single Bell, Mingle Bell, Single Bell Rock Mingle around the blockkkkk. Date Chris Cringle and Jack Frost- you'll see, That's the Cringle Bell Rock. What a bright time, it's the right time, to date your time away. Single? Swell time, opportune time, go venturing through the state. Single Bell, Mingle Bell, Single Bell Rock Mingle around the blockkkkk. Date Mr. Bingle and Rudolf, you'll see, That's the Single Bell- that's the Jingle Bell- that's the Mingle Bell Rock! Your holidays as a person with a single relationship status doesn't have to be dreary. There's plenty of cheer and mistletoe for you too! And just think, your mistletoe goes further than those restricted to just one recipient. At Christmas parties, you're free to speak to whomever for however long and consumer whatever ungodly amount of hors d'oeuvres or Holly Jolly Cocktails your merry little heart desires. Attending 3 or 4 Christmases is not a hurdle you're faced with this year so, no need to stress about being able to manage eating just enough food to be polite but not enough to put you into a diabetic coma before house #3. You also don't have to fret about leaving the most pristine impression and telling the funniest jokes, you can just kick it in the corner with grandma the whole afternoon if you very well please. You also don't have to stress about your family not approving of your chosen significant other. Low expectations? More like no expectations so 0% chance of disappointment. Just a friendly reminder, it is probably in your best interest to steer clear of social media since this is the beginning of engagement season... spiked eggnog or Bah Humbug Brownie Bombs should fill this void if you can't help yourself. Bake a box of brownies in a 9X13 glass pan. Cool your jets (brownies) and strain a large jar of maraschino cherries; allow them to dry on layered paper towels. Crumble brownies with your hands, like your hopes for a Christmas Miracle that was your perfect guy (or girl) holding your hand in front of the Christmas tree. To separate your loneliness from dampening the season of perpetual hope, beat a block of cream cheese with 1/2 cup of powdered sugar and a teaspoon of vanilla. Then add to your holiday shambles. Pinch a piece of brownie and cream cheese mix and put one cherry in the palm of your hand. Form the brownie mix over the cherry and roll in a ball. Repeat until all batter is gone like that of 2017. Then freeze tray of Bah Humbug Brownie Bombs while melting white chocolate in a microwave safe bowl on 50% power (50% holiday cheer and 50% holiday beer). Remove brownie bombs from freezer and drizzle brownie bombs Merry Christmas ya filthy animals, and Happy New Year! single-carols.html Since Christmas is among us, I guess it's time to roll out the Thanksgiving story... This boy is another product of mutual right swiping. Although, like most of the others that have made blog-worthy material, we never actually met. Our correspondence consisted of comments on each other's Snapchats and random "hey, what's up?" messages, but certainly nothing of any substance. I found it peculiar that on Thanksgiving I got a picture from him, but opened it none the less. To my unpleasant surprise, I discovered a notorious dick pic but this one certainly stood out; this part was decorated as a turkey. Take a minute to let that sentence soak in. Not only did this boys send an uncensored and unwarranted picture to practically a stranger but, he went the extra mile to decorate it in Snapchat with colors on the editing tool.
The original Thanksgiving was established as a peace offering with the foundation of mutual respect and gratitude... Mr. Turkey's "greeting" is clearly antithetical to this holiday's message. I can't tell you how many friends I asked to see the picture... what makes you think I would EVER want to see that again or have it saved to my phone? My finger could not click fast enough out of this repulsive picture. Needless to say, I was a vegetarian this Thanksgiving. Well, that's not completely true... I just veered clear from the turkey. The block button is a very useful tool. This action-packed elementary pass-time has been a God-send for teachers across the country. Duck, Duck, Goose has been played in schools for decades-- Well... at least the last two decades, from my personal experience. Thoughts of this group activity begs the question, is this not an accurate metaphor for online dating? Or really, dating in general?
There is a circle of singles, with one or two in denial of the relationship they should be committed to, and you are "it." As you skim the circle with your eyes, your body trots around the oddly shaped of candidates like second grader, full of hope and Capri Sun. Your standards, regardless how small, decipher the ducks from the geese. No job? Duck. Kids from more than one baby mama? Duck. Gym Bro? Duck. Cheating slime with a wife somewhere and at least one girl friend? How did he even make it in the circle? Reptile of some sort because he doesn't deserve a classification or anything but an ass-kicking. Yes, you'll find your duck. Actually, you'll be surprised how quickly you spot him and how another "it" didn't beat you to it. As time sifts through your fingertips, you'll discover his duck-side inevitably, driving you back to the circle. Another game, another goose. The game will lose its novelty and their strategies will seem rehearsed. You'll lose track of the number of geese you've veered off course with and almost anticipate the "mush pot." Like the childhood game, this cycle of dating exhausts your optimism and energy leaving only a spell of dizziness. While the dizziness consumes you, why not be dizzy on your own accord? No, not playing the game at maximum speed, whipping up a bundt cake with liquor. Not just any liquor... grey goose. "No boundaries no lengths. Why do we say that until we get that person that we think is gonna be that one and then once we get 'em it's never the same. You want them when they don't want you, soon as they do, feelings change." Thank you Eminem for that accurate description of my dating encounters over the last year and a half. This deserves a toast-- spatulas up! Grey Goose Bundt
Another connection casualty reporting for duty. He said I was “unlike anyone [he’d] ever met.” I guess if we are getting technical, that’s not a lie… then again, isn’t everyone? Just observe an airport terminal or the people strung along the isles of Walmart— I’m sure your eyes will graze endless “one of a kinds.”
He also said “hasn’t felt like this in a really long time.” At 24 years old, how many other opportunities have you had with bouncing butterflies and sweaty palms— meeting Mickey Mouse at Cinderella’s Castle? I beg to differ; I bet this feeling has been relatively recent, but hey— who am I to say how ANYONE is feeling. Hell, some days, I can’t even sort out mine. I hate white chocolate yet that didn’t stop me from making cookies and cream popcorn. My disdain for white chocolate was overwhelmed with shame due to my lack of restraint from dominating the entire batch. These feelings were covered by hysteria that now I won’t be able to fit my thick thighs in my new designer skinny jeans. Feelings are sticky, that’s all there is to it! Well, this boy must have been confronted with at least an inkling of feelings for me because on our third date, he revealed that his mom made me tamales. Yes, he leaked some of the my story to his mom and apparently gushed about my obsession for authentic Mexican food. Things ended abruptly and then he got a girlfriend— like Facebook official 3 weeks later. Gosh, that escalated quickly. To top off this whole escapade, I never even got my tamales! My emotions were led on and my taste buds were disillusioned. I felt like Damion in Mean Girls, “I want my p̶i̶n̶k̶ ̶s̶h̶i̶r̶t̶ [tamales] back! I want my p̶i̶n̶k̶ ̶s̶h̶i̶r̶t̶ [tamales] back!” But, like him, I guess I never had them to begin with. Since I didn’t get my authentic Mexican food fix, here is a recipe that will suffice in satisfying that hankering… for now. Cheesecake Chimichangas. My roommate and I made up this recipe in college; I’m sure there are very similar or even better ones online but here is ours. Gather some tortillas, because you are on a Mexican delight mission. Mix cream cheese, brown sugar, vanilla, and crushed Oreo's in a monkey bowl. There is no precision in matters of the heart so why start here, just do what feels right in your heart… or your watering mouth. Dollop this in middle of flat tortilla and ensure not to stuff it to the point where it does not close all the way. Fold right flap of tortilla, then left, and then one end. Make as many as your heart desires. Put canola oil in a shallow pan, again, since this fling didn’t measure up, why should we stress about the measurements of this oil? Set stove top to medium heat and wait until oil is as hot as you thought he was. You can test by dropping a drop of water in the pan; when it sizzles or even pops, your stuffed tortilla is ready to be half submerged. Watch diligently, like a puppy waiting for scraps to fall from the dinner table on Taco Tuesday. Flip once bottom is golden, like you thought you and him would be. Once other side is finished, put on a plate with two sheets of paper towels layered on it. Immediately dust with powdered sugar. Enjoy while still relatively hot for best results. Top 3, one of the greatest military men I’ve ever met. Surpassed expectations of sweetness, considerate to a fault, and has more dedication than a penguin to its egg. We'll call him Mr. 6 Flags cause boy was more than amusing and traveled 6 hours to see me roundtrip. Yes, this boy lived 3 hours north of me and wanted our first date to be a thrill so he bought us tickets to 6 Flags Over Texas and got himself a hotel the night before.
This was one of the cutest date ideas I've ever seen in action but... something stopped me. I know, I know... What more could an adventure-seeking, adrenalin junkie in her mid-twenties want? I'm actually not certain I know that answer today (tomorrow looks promising). The day was stellar at the themepark, we shared Mexican food (which is a sure way to my heart), and he was very sweet and respectful when we parted ways. He let me know when he got home safely and gushed about genuinely enjoying meeting me. I concurred and talked with him another conversation or two but then severed hope for the next commute date. Of course, he didn't want to be friends and of course, he didn't understand. How could he comprehend something I couldn't convey? But... He'll always be Mr. Six Flags to me. Here is a 6 ingredient dessert that's oh-so sweet and satisfying- until it's gone. This recipe has many different names and comes from many different sources. My source is from The Greatest Person On Earth... My mother. She calls it Kelly Squares which is a "scream" at any party in New Orleans. Mix a box of yellow cake mix with a stick of melted butter and press into the bottom of a 9 by 13 pan. You need more than just a square pan because this boy is the furthest thing from a square. Standard temperature of 350 and 40 minutes will be the time spent together. At maximum speed for maximum thrills, beat 2 eggs, one block of cream cheese, and 1 teaspoon of vanilla. Slow coasters or mixers are for 48 inches and under, also known as "Kiddieland." Pour mix over cake crust. Ensure dish is securely fastened in oven before initiating the "Go Button." Best served cold, like the way I felt after ending things before they could pick up momentum. I'm not a light bulb, burnt out from all the positivity I share, soon to be replaced by a more expensive, more efficient model. I'm not an off-brand AA battery used up of its energy and replaced by "The Bunny Inside." I am not a pair of sturdy blinds allowing sunshine to peek through the cracks and being replaced by cold blackout curtains. I'm not an air filter full of the things she's seen and heard and negative things disposed of. I'm not a pair of old running shoes with soles running thin and tired because of the miles trecked. I'm not a blender's blade, tired and dull from muddling through thicknesses of all sorts. I'm not as replaceable as their actions drive me to believe.
I am grandma's recipe, passed down for generations and cherished as a true gem for gatherings. I am the sifted powdered sugar, light and delicate but always a dash or a dominant sweetness (like two pounds worth). I am as bold as a whole cup of cocoa and as pure as vanilla extract. Together in a bowl, I am just begging for two sticks of margarine and a half a cup of milk. Microwave is my place to stay warm but not on the standard power. My strength is only at 80% for 3 minutes, but still worth it. Sometimes life can make me a little nuts... pecans to be exact. After being stirred up with one and a half cups, I need time to chill, but I'll be back in any hour. Who gives a "fudge" about the latest and greatest or the revamps or upgrades? The originals are classic and why be anything but? Super Blog Directory Some of these “connection casualties” are humorous or even jaw dropping but some of them cultivate pain from the very core. Pain that heats you from the inside out, like a geyser with enough pressure to leave immediate and permanent damage. Pain that influences the way you feel when your toes hit the cold floor in the morning or the exceeding disgust you feel when you catch your reflection in the mirror. The kind of pain that chisels away at the worth of your entire being. Everything you’ve worked for, everything you’ve become, and everything you aspire to do and be fades. It dissolves within you while dumbfounded that you allowed this to happen AGAIN. You caused this by allowing him in and thinking for a minute—No much longer than a minute that you could.
He unlocked your insecurities ,which were only restrained by a 3 digit combination lock, elementary in design. Attraction-turn to the right. Empty promises and masquerade compliments, turn left, pass it up once. Abscond, turn right. It opened first try. Too bad another combination, any other combination won’t suffice. It must be easy to commit to memory but that’s as far as commitment goes. One commitment that is relentless is sweets. Here is an easy as pie (filling) dessert. Like he had no problem doing to you, dump a 20 oz. can crushed pineapples, a 20 oz. can cherry pie filling, and a cup of chopped pecans in a 9x13 dish. Ensure your butter is like the cold shoulder he gave you—not warm and comforting in the slightest. Press 1 1/2 sticks of butter into a box of yellow cake mix. It should crumble like what you aspired you and him to be. Bake for 350 for 35 minutes and enjoy this dump cake regardless if you were dumped tonight. I accompanied my best friend on ANOTHER double date. This one has to be a step up from the bum that made me cry in a bar, right? Well, the date went alright and there were no tears but... since I wasn't feeling that cliche but slightly true "spark," I chose not to kiss him. When I went in for a hug at the date's closure and pulled away kind of quickly, his response certainly differentiates him from those before him. Furrowing his eyebrows he blurted, "That's it?" I broke eye contact and tilted my head to the floor. Scoffing, he proceeded to inform me that my best friend was hotter anyway. He marched up to his friend, kissing mine, and demanded they leave. What a stale attempt to tank my self-esteem. I laughed to myself; here is a grown man that still throws minor tantrums when he doesn't get his way.
What a dog— woof! The first recipe that comes to mind is puppy chow. A basic cereal that’s so common, so bland; even with the 6 different flavors cereal isles offer, it’s not a cereal kids scream for and not even a go-to for drunk and/or broke college kids. What a metaphor for this guy, hardly worth mentioning. To transform basic into binge-worthy, melt a bag of chocolate chips and one stick of unsalted butter. Unsalted is crucial here because Mr. Stale Cereal is NOT by any stretch of the imagination" the salt of the earth." Add a half cup of peanut butter as smooth as he thinks he is. Add vanilla and begin dumping a combination of 8 cups of cereal that matches his personality, bland: 3 cups of corn Chex, 3 cups of 2 cups rice Chex, and 2 cups of wheat Chex. Because your sweetness still radiates even with a low-blow comment, sprinkle 1 cup of Honey-nut Cheerios atop the mixture. Shake this concoction in a gallon baggie (or several) with as much powdered sugar you feel suiting. Most recipes say 1 1/2 cups total but dating doesn't follow any rules, why restrain your powdered sugar creativity? Enjoy and follow me for more sarcastic sugary recipes: https://www.bloglovin.com/blog/19208929/?claim=c3tc5rhsv6j There’s no such thing as cheating in the casual dating world— then why do I feel cheated?
Attachment is nothing to play with, yet I feel played. Don’t catch feelings is the name of the game, yet I feel caught. Caught between hopeful present and begrudging reality. It’s all just fun yet feeling left in shambles seems so unjust? This person is supposed to make you complete, yet you’re constantly reminded of the pounding inner emptiness. Make the most of your moments, even if the moments make you weary? Love is a breath of fresh air, yet with more dates, this grows stale. Chivalry is dead, yet him holding a car door or kissing your hand makes you feel alive. “It gets better,” yet the symptoms are more severe after every love sickness? It started with cunning words and ended with none at all. Love is timeless, yet the wrinkles tell a different story. Ingredients will deplete, yet the feeling of making something great will fuel obtaining more. Cheese compliments breakfast, lunch, or dinner, yet cheese in dessert is far from an insult. “Life gives you lemons,” striving to make you bitter, yet life underestimated your supply of sugar. Pain isolates, yet happiness liberates: seek it, choose it, embrace it. Cheesecake gives you “endorphins. Endorphins makes you happy. Happy people just don’t kill their [bumble dates], they just don’t!” I hope you picked up on my movie quote;) Grab America’s favorite cookie, blocks of cream cheese, and a smile because these mini cheesecakes are gonna rock this cold world. Since nothing in this life comes standard, preheat your oven to 275. Grab as many cupcake liners of all patterns (Easter eggs, leprechauns, pencils, zombies, and glittery tinsel), cheesecake doesn't discriminate. Place this diverse bunch of liners in a muffin tin. This recipe calls for 15...even though a cupcake pan only holds 12. Like life, not everything operates on logic. Put 12 cookies in the liners and I guess eat the other 3? Your digression but, you will need an additional 6 to dazzle the batter with. Beat one pound of cream cheese with 1/2 cup of sugar because you have your own sweetness that would greatly exceed a cup. Add 1 tsp vanilla, the pure stuff because isn't there enough imitation in this world-- especially the dating one. When life cracks you, crack back. Show two eggs who are boss, then proceed with 1/2 cup of sour cream and a pinch of salt. Mix 6 Oreos in the mix and then fill each liner almost all the way up. Bake 22 minutes and then refrigerate to set. "Ahh, the power of cheese"...cake. Adapted from cupcakesgarden.com One reason I decided to create this blog is because I've had such rotten luck with guys even while being hard to get, just the right amount of mysterious, and having a polished appearance. The same strategies were producing the same outcome, which is the definition of insanity, thank you Einstein. So, I changed my environment. Not for dating of course but I made a geographical move from deep in the heart of Texas to the east coast. To my dismay, the dating actually got more shallow. I mean I'm sure there's good eggs everywhere... And mr. Friendship happens to be one of those. This isn't a post about a guy that friend-zoned me nor is it a story of a guy I friend-zoned. This act was Mutual.
I'd been talking with this guy for almost 2 months while I was still in Texas, making the transition to the east coast. He had moved before as well and was new to the area I was moving too. This boy is funny, smart, has a kick-ass beard, and is now my best guy friend on the East Coast. Not all dating stories have a remorseful ending... It's just not the ending most girls covet. But look at it this way, now we both have an advocate that can reveal the innermost workings of both the male perspective and the intricate mind of a female. Works with kids, considerate, charming, and ladies, he's single! ;) Mr. Friendship has gone with me to Charlotte to see my favorite band, even though he only knew 3 songs and accompanied me to the beach when there was a hurricane brewing. He matches my level of crazy because we both ventured into the water, a day and half prior to the hurricane's scheduled hit. He goes out even though he doesn't love to dance but knows I crave it and loves all of my baking. He's a stand -up guy even when everyone else is sitting down. He's like a good batch if brownies, classic yet soothing to the soul. This exquisite recipe for brownies Mr. Friendship Googled for me, while chugging beer and talking about the latest slang one Tuesday night. Never underestimate a good friendship... They are almost more rare than finding a good one in the dating world. "Bro Brownies" In a saucepan, combine 10 tablespoons of butter, 1 1/4 cups sugar, 3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder, and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Stir on medium heat until just melted. Just like your friendship, remove from heat and stress of the demands surrounding you. Find a new environment, South Carolina or a bowl will suffice and pour your new mixture inside. Stir in 1 teaspoon vanilla and 2 large eggs vigorously. Gradually stir in 1/2 cup alllllllrighty then flour (professionals and moms call it All-Purpose. Once you've reached magic stage, pour into 8x8 or 9x9 (Potato patato). Create insiders, find enjoyable brews, and bake in this 350° almost circle life for 25 minutes. "High five, nice!" http://www.inspiredtaste.net/24412/cocoa-brownies-recipe/ |
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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