Season: Winter 2022 Location: Denton, TX How I broke my own rules, thus breaking my own heart: 11. Who I became while fighting with him is someone I didn't recognize. "New 'tude, who dis?" I started raising my voice, became prideful, and was much sassier than all my teenage years combined. 12. My other rule was allowing a guy to yell at one of my friends.... even he yelled at her first. Ummm... that rule seems a little.... guh, maybe my lack of rules broke my own heart 13. Second guessing my phrasing is a reflection of him... I'm driven almost 110% by emotions so I don't second guess many of my words, they encompass me almost instantly and dive from my little lips. Proof God has a sense of humor by giving such a chatty Kathy tiny lips. But, during "the end" he continually used my words against me swearing my phrase was x verbatim. First I fought back and then I apologized for making him feel that way, coming off that way, or racking my brain how I could have said something I had little recollection or intention of. 14. Repetitive guilt plauged me in our last phone conversation. Guilt for my actions, inaction, feeling I had to remedy and take accountability for errrything. Yet he only took accountability for raising his voice at my bestie and for "being playful" with the naked comment.
Proof I didn't guard my heart even when the music was undeniable; you can't mistake Nickelback. Lol. I rooted for his basketball team Friday while at my favorite live music bar in Charleston. Sure, he's haunted my dreams and no other guy is even remotely appealing right now So with the Nickelback playing, I reached back out and swallowed my pride (I'm sure he was wondering if I did). He made me feel like he was doing ME a favor to listen to my apology in person. His hesitancy was 5 claws to the leg from a black cat you were just paying genuine attention and affection to. What the... French toast?! So again, I'm going to take myself out and I guess get back the respect for myself I lost. And get a vlog readyy. Lights... Maybe because I lost my center for a bit. Haha understatement of the year. Yes, I'm aware it's still the first month of 2022. I did things so out of character for me (constant texting like a 13-year-old with a pink Nokia and staying home from the club) and I need to get back to building itineraries instead of fantasizing roots. I'm no tree, I don't do that. I need to learn when to leaf well enough alone.... we know hpw datesandcakes loves a challenge.
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Mr. Struck By Lightning was EVERYTHING. I know, I know, past tense tells us where this ends before it begins AND how many times I have I felt, blogged, or screamed that before? This story is stale and is in need of a ziplock or re-baking. It all started like they all do... :( Guh that feels as awful as it sounds. Then again, so does Nickelback yet they've won over 27 awards including "worst band." How's that for "How You Remind Me?" This guy was intelligent, caring, generous beyond belief (mostly drawn from his profession choice), nurturing, found me funny (requirement), nerdy, honest (maybe a bit too much off the bat but still hit a single ;), and ambitious. He cooked for me on our first date, which was all too humorous since I detest pasta, which I know is unamerican and anti-italian and mama mia! I should be hit with a meatball but... it's just not my jam (or peanut butter). Anywhooooo, he is Italian and saw this as a challenge to show off his skills in the kitchen with his grandmother's recipe. He plated a lemon garlic pasta with arugula, panchetta, and Parmesan. He was so excited when his fork plunged into his masterpiece while I.... couldn't contain my taste-bud tango. Looking at me with his big blue eyes he beckoned, "What do you think?" My face said it all. I tried to mask it but Mardi Gras was not yet upon us. He saw the truth like a polygraph. "Oh, you really don't like it?" His face sunk. I couldn't help but laugh and utter, "I mean, it's good.." while I twirled my fork in the spaghetti. My hunger and strict upbringing of "finish your plate" and "when someone makes something for you, you eat it" compelled me to finish the bowl. It really wasn't that bad by the time I scrapped up the last bite. I did however feel a little like Lucy with Vitavitavegamin. Well.... it surprisingly made the date all the more comfortable. We were ourselves and I lapped up every moment. I became quickly drunk on his honesty of his divorce, the cleanliness of his home that you could tell wasn't just a deep cleaning before the girl comes over, and the way he looked at me with those deep color-changing eyes. He was like a mood ring that I just HAD TO HAVE. Somewhere between date number 1 ^^ and date number 2 where I also spent it at his house and later spent the night.... I found myself cropping this guy and pasting him in my future plans. Not just the weeks leading up to his birthday in March but beyond. To infinity.... yes, I was buzzed ;)) Another thing to note: we were never drunk. Never. The most we had was two drinks on the first date and the second, we were just consumed with each other. It was freeing and consuming all at once. So what went wrong? This is datesandcakes afterall.... something always doesWell, like chalk on concrete, my boundaries with those I care about are colorful, fun, and washable. My best friend, whom I've mentioned countless times and was featured on the blog several times is my constant. She's dated with me, nursed the ending of the relationship we thought "was it," lost our grandmothers, moved three states together, raised the cutest damn bulldog you've ever seen and made this thing called life more tolerable. The bestie and I danced, drank, and dreamed our pain away for 16 years now. So, to say she's not involved in my love life is a bold face lie. But... to what extent is healthy? Confession session: I still don't know. She's fueled with past potentials of mine a number of times, inevitably ending in well, the end. So.... with Mr. Struck By Lightening, I was stoked when she gave me her seal of approval about him. She loved his passion for scary movies, his openness to answering questions about if he truly was divorced, age of his daughter, and intentions with me. Excessive or is my bestie just thorough? Maybe that's revealing my weakness of not gathering the courage to ask some of those questions myself or maybe I'd prefer living in the aloofness fantasy of not knowing. Or maybe... I should have let things build over time instead of condone an interrogation... but, you have to admit, the seal is pretty cute. In the 7+ hours gushing on the phone and 29 hours that we spent engrossed in conversation and electric "like," I grew incredibly fond of this man and really REALLY thought it was going to blossom into something soon, like a flower on speed. I don't know plant terminology... not as "green" as I should be I guess *rolls green eyes* Well, it all was at stake (medium rare) when the bestie questioned his motives the day before date number 3. First, she interrogated me, pressing me about details about his daughter and why we haven't gone on a date in person and then about the details about his credit cards, which were his reason the third date MAY or may not happen, contingent upon the status of his flagged card that was being resent to his house hopefully by the date of the date. Haha, thank you comic relief. Since I couldn't provide specific details to the bestie, she decided to verify herself since her faith in men had been recently corrupted due to multiple acts of infidelity from her long-distance boyfriend. That catastrophic event was discovered days before me and Mr. Struck By Lightening's date. This is where it got ugly. OH heavens no! This was actually where it got sexy ;)) Mark of his passion after date number two. Again, my attempt at comic relief because I'm distraught about the ending of this one. You heard me! DISTRAUGHT. Usually I leave and never look back... this one, well, didn't make it so easy. After the interrogation about the cards and yelling between him and my bestie, they both apologized. It was strange to watch and honestly, I couldn't believe a couple things:
Naturally, he rescheduled date #3. He felt "a bit defeated" and needed some time to "dust himself off and pick himself up." All to say: he's human and is also probably trying to wrap his head around the fact that it actually is butter. lol Ugh. Next day went by and the conversation took a terrible turn via text. I was a bit tied with work so wasn't able to respond too much into it so called before dinner. He responded a short, "okay... sorry you feel that way" to my call of "I really thought you could be the one but now I don't know how we can continue from here." And he didn't fight for me. So... I blame myself for allowing things to get this out of hand where it became a 3 person relationship. He probably feels he dodged a bullet and can't believe he got matched with such a crazy... then again, part of me feels he wasn't as into me as I thought since he was able to quit me cold turkey (or chicken). Guess the Stephona is curable... and yet, I still yearn to hear from him. Potentially the biggest SMH moment of datesandcakes history! Thoughts are welcome...An excerpt from DatesandCakes in the early days:There’s a fine line between anesthetized and shattered. The numbness a girl can harness is safe, a way to wrap herself in protection from sweet, little lies. But it is so easy to let someone in. To feel something for once that’s deceptively beautiful. You can say you won’t let another one in— this time I’m going to “just have fun” or “date like a guy and keep the emotion out of it” but, is that ever reality? Can you ever truly leave emotion out of it when you’ve made that connection? I wrestle with this every dozen guys or so. I say this so casually because connections are rare in the perfect amount: not too scarce but not easily tangible. So, upon discovering said connection, a rush tingles through your fingertips and now there’s a difference when his name flashes on your phone versus the others. But don’t underestimate the importance of “the others.” These play a part when this temporary “connection” pulls away. When he fades like just another sunset, you’re not alone. It’s a shallow kind of comfort but the heart becomes desperate when struck. This wrapped with a warped confidence that you’re worth it keeps you warm through another night… well, warm enough—it’s not “him” after all. But don’t be naive enough to think you’re the only operator harnessing the secret weapon of “others.” Your “connection” not only has “others” but, there’s a chance you’re one of his. I know, that stings. Isn’t infatuation fun? The Connection?Appreciation is a thing that should be constantly brought to the surface. THIS scene from PInk Panther (the remake of course, no Peter Sellers but, good none the less) is a joy, along with this epiphany I made about "the others." Since I haven't posted much since the last ache, this story is recovery.
This guy strolled up to the bestie and I stood beside her, like a shiny new pack of gum, peaking out of her purse. Wait... what? Gave ya something to chew on, huh? ;) Lol anywhooooooooooo My eyes trimmed in coal mascara skimmed the bar. They came to a screeching halt when I read a graphic t-shirt that read: pizza planet. Instantly let my nerd show and sparked a conversation about it. My intention was to escort myself to the dance floor after that quick Disney convo, but he SO HAPPENED to be the friend of the guy talking to my bestie. AND he had a country accent so thick, my feet seemed stuck right beside him. There's something about an accent so thicc, I can spread on toast... Like another round of shutdowns in 2020, I'm back! .....too soon... Well, this gent and I got to talking about interests and he said he lays pie-puh for work. I'm sorry, what?! Accent so thick, I could spread it on toast! It was sweeter than the green apple crown he got me. Then, ADHeffingD Stephanie tuned into the Shakira song that the dj delighted the honky tonk with. Without missing a beat, this country stranger from Oklahoma got to see first hand, Stephanie in her natural habitat. Breaking it down on the dance floor like I was back in Spain with that strong Reggaeton beat, I was in my element. Not quite a spectacle, but the Crown maybe told me a different story. As soon as the genre changed to country, he, Mr. Other Accent of Honey approached me and spun me into a two-stepping spree. I have no clue what song it was, but I beamed. I loved it! A country nerd spinning and twirling me around in the moment like a bowl of whipping cream and powdered sugar.... foreshadowing. At some point, he asked for a kiss, but I told him this wasn't Hershey's. As we turned, so did the clock and closing time was calling us home. We stepped outside as a group; him and his friend invited us back to their lake house, but before the invite fully dropped out of their mouth, I politely declined. Mr. Other Accent of Honey turned his head, "Wool, ken I at leeeest git yur phoooone number?" <<<best phonetic imitation of this bearded Okie. I slyly shook my head, with no fear of becoming dizzy. My bestie I suppose showed her sly side by slipping my number into his phone while I turned to look for our Uber. We parted ways with a smile and I knew that was the one and only time I'd hear that honey drawl and I was completely content. I kneaded that (like fresh dough on a floured surface). How simply our interaction illustrated that there are plenty of southern fish in the sea; some that are just here for fin and some that didn't belong in your part of the ocean anyway. Even though sometimes foundation is the goal, a dollop of fun that can even be bought out of a can Actual footage of my heart:This "other" showed me that I should whip those feelings of regret with the last country boy with a honeysuckle accent that also tangled me up on that same dance floor. Life is dolloped with sweetness that many times, isn't meant to last. That's the art to its sugar. Like any dessert on datesandcakes, it's sweet while it lasts but, the tray of brownies will eventually deplete or grow stale. It's the memories made while preparing these brownies and the time they borrowed and impression they made.... even if it landed on your hips ;)) Others' Whipped Cream
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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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