Dating has seemed to lose its luster so in the inbetweens, I find reading is actually something productive that provides a sense of accomplishment instead of chipping away at the self-worth I've worked tirelessly to build over the last 11 months. The wild thing about the books I stumble upon are that they provide deep insight to relevant things in a young, single, hustling female. My latest page turner, "We Are All the Same In the Dark," took place in Texas, which his a first... so the first quote is pertaining to that, but the others are quite profound in sound.... Texas is a beautiful poison you drink from your mother's breast; the older you get and the farther you run, the more it pounds in your blood."
Strangers are powerful. They can mark you in twenty seconds. They can rob you at gunpoint so you never feel safe again. They can mention you're pretty at a party when no one else ever has, and then you don't kill yourself that day or maybe any other day. It's like a diamond tossed out a car window you were lucky enough to catch. I always found it interesting that children are taught to avoid strangers, yet everyone is a stranger at one point or another. That begs the question, how do you meet new people or familiarize someone if their existence in relation to you is well, strange? I've had strangers enlighten and empower me and friends of years betray me (one or two of them in the worst of ways). Maybe this is why Dates and Cakes has come to be and never seems to be depleted of stories: the amusement with those unfamiliar. The luster of the "new car smell" only lasts through so many hailstorms, trips to and from the beach, hauls of baseball equipment, drunk friends, and moving boxes. Then, the smell is gone and the nose is distracted by freshly baked bread, strongly brewed coffee, or popping popcorn. Life is never yours. You are just renting it out while the landlord in the sky ups the price until you can't pay anymore. But what are you going to do? Like Charles Manson said, we're all living with the death penalty." Alas, another Carpe Diem quote. LOVE. Yes, Dates and Cakes is still baking. I GUESS Dates and Cakes is still dating but with much less interest and effort put forth. This dessert, if I had to parallel one, would be Banana Crumb Cake. Sure, circumstances can be crumby, but we need to seek what is appeeling and create our own sweetness. Crumb Topping:
For the Banana Cake:
For the Glaze:
For the Banana Cake:
For the Glaze:
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I'm attracted to accents, beards, height, humor, and unfulfilled potential. The last of these is the one that gets me into trouble.... and quite possibly earns me a fraction of these datesandcakes stories.In no way am I saying these guys are not "doing the damn thing" we call life and looking good doing it. What I'm saying is, I look at each one of these guys as what they could be to me and what we could be together. Selfish, right? Instead of basing it off their arrangement of words, gestures, and follow-through (or absence of follow through). I lust over the story-- "our story" that we could tell others how we met. I live for the chase and impossible situation that only we together could make possible. I pretend that time-zone conversion will be a conversion of the soul. Okay... that one was too far. Probably 96% of what is manifesting between this guy and I, (whether it's been 2 weeks or 3 days) is sheer fantasy. This is not to be confused with the perfume, Fantasy by Brittney Spears, who is free now. YOU GO GIRL; 2007 is finally over for you! I make assumptions and expectations with absolutely no scientific evidence. Ones like:
I figured a baker's dozen is a good place to stop ;)) You can't read between lines that aren't even drawn in the sand. Number 11 and 12 are probably the biggest jokes of all, at least lately.... It's like I didn't understand science or the scientific method AT ALL. Stephanie, your hypothesis is continuously wrong!
I'm so consumed with the beauty of what it would mean to be a beautiful structure that people from every land marvels at, that I ignore the lack of building materials, motivation, or color to make such a relationship happen. I lose sense of reality for a little bit and act like Dorothy or Alice, allowing only my imagination and shiny things to guide me. There's been SO manyyyyyyy examples of this in my "dating." The current shut-down status of the world begged for the quotation marks because it seems globally we are shutting people out since life as we know it has shut down and rerouted our day-to-day existence. I cannot tell you the last time I actually felt like I "dated" someone. Seems lonely, but is only at times I'm not pushing myself for better. Actually, datesandcakes' science of attraction and downfall of all the connections I've had in the last year (let's not bite off more than we can chew ;) could really be summed up to one painful truth. It's a personal problem. As arithmetic taught me, I'm the common denominator! So, here's to working on me and maybe my next hypothesis will be have some ground to stand on.You hear the man! And what better pair of flavors that exude the "laws of attraction" than.... (drum roll please)Don't be peanut butter and jealous... as always, I share the recipe. I will say, that picture was for comedy purposes and this is the one DatesandCakes will be making:
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
Quite familiar with the board game folded
If it were cards, a glance I'd have stolen Only to learn what suspicion spoke He too is a fiction chapter book No future to picture, as the pages turn Not Ray Bradbury's, but this too will burn Promising plot, but no deliberate direction Large font so suitableness is lost in affection Only when hands are mounted under hemlines No deviation for wandering of men's minds Strictly convenient with counterfeit caring Wrapped in more than his pages, conscious blaring Life lives him as him time title tease Colorful character but his ending: easy to read Replace to the shelf before he tries the same Alas, there's copious curves from this dame So, this Dates and Cakes' post will pick up the fork in the road and visit the places that plated the best love affairs. Food is an art that draws me in with the aroma, colors, and presentation. The first place that came to mind when thinking of food I fell in love with was actually the food in the Salt Lake City... I just returned from a solo trip there (yes, even during new spikes in our Carona-induced world.... Dos Equis gets no love). I know this sounds like a crazy confession, but they had Venezuelan food, true Mexican mole, and great sour beers that they made in house! What more could you ask for in a mountain town? Well... it's near a mountain (or two). Since I started in the states, it's only fair to mention the C'est si bon food that IS New Orleans; they probably have the best food in the country. How can I make such bold claims? Simple, I'm Cajun. San Francisco had great sourdough bread and baguettes. While we're here, I'll throw two more your way: Charleston has some great southern food and have revolutionized brunch. Then, Hillcountry and the metroplex in Texas has great BBQ, tacos, Tex-Mex, Mexican, and burgers.... "Put some south in your mouth" as the wise ones say... But how elementary of my palate to stay in the states for good eats? My heart fluttered with the flavors the central of Belize provided me. I loved the food in Belize because it's a humble country, so all the citizens I encountered were friendly and welcoming. Their food is phenomenal and they cook it right in front of you out on big pits. Sizzling meat Greece also had a really good food because they fry their cheese oh gosh! Belgium has good food too! When I was in Brussels and Brugges, I just ate my way through those cities. This pastry was something we stumbled upon while exploring Brussels by foot. It was a cream cheese tart with middle eastern influence (we were in an Arabian neighborhood/district kilometres outside city center).And obviously Rome has really really really really really good pasta. Like the homemade tortellini I could have eaten without the sauce but then he put hand-grinded pesto sauce and I seriously thought I was going to go into a food coma. Prague did not disappoint with their fairy tale cottages of sweets. Unfortunately, their staff's customer service was no fairy tale. Madrid has GREAT tapas and Bordeaux has incredible bread. Even from their grocery store like one croissant was like equivalent to $0.85 and I almost wept, it melted in my mouth. Two words: STREET MEAT. Where? Budapest and Brussels
"Put a fork in me, I'm done!"
|
Who the hell did I think I was? I know there's a movement right now about girls being able to play the field and take their emotions out of physical interactions, but I need to face the bass-buzzing, window-down-blaring music that I'm different. My emotional capacity is not that of your average bear. Oh, did I forgot to give you the earth-shattering conclusion of this crush? GHOSTED. |
This is how the world works: you gotta leave before you get left." - T Swizzle
So, something finally has to give.... "I'm sorry [enter names here], I'm cleaning out my closet." Call it spring cleaning for my soul!
Doesn't automatically render a space
In your jumbled head of drafted plans
Shading the night to grays and tans
He brushed your curl aside as if it were practice
Outlined your firm expression that of an actress
Breathing close in a rhythm to hypnotize
Temporary this moment, yet to realize
Just because the scene has set doesn't mean he is
On the syllables of your name or how it sounds with his
So don't mistake a mere glint for an enlightening
You'll meet a thunder, fit to be his lightening
The Nola Series Continues.....
Here's the 4-1-1 on the back story of how Mr. Ringo came to be.... and a semi-funny meme, since I couldn't find a Parent Trap meme with Merideth Blake saying, "Here's the 4-1-1."
There was this blonde dude-bro that was at least 4 years younger than me watching intently. He looked like a school-yard boy waiting to jump into double dutch. He made his move before Christmas and I was elated while grinding to Ludacris. While feeling the emotions, among other things, I felt eyes on me when Mr. Ringo walked back up. Guilt swept over me.
Even though nothing was stated about rekindling anything, he was a complete and utter gentleman and I still felt guilty. I don't know if the guilt would have subsided if a girl would have danced with him (even though he "doesn't dance").
The words of another guy before him rang in my ears while putting my weight on the foot in a right Van shoe. Mr. Publisher wrote words that I didn't believe when he bitterly spat them via internet forum but they rose to the top of my liquored mind (in which he bought some of the drinks...yes, I'm the worst BUT, he was staying with me BUT he came to SEE ME). I lose. So, in this moment in my favorite American city, I believed the words that publisher wrote about me... something to the affect of:
she's the reason there's not any good guys left.
Now, I do not take responsibility for ALL the good guys converting to scum-between-my-toes but, I do feel for the good guys that I.... well are no longer taken with. I don't do it on purpose... just as I assume guys that were never intrigued long enough with me didn't fall off to spite me.
Well, this Mr. Ringo is a gentleman, loving father, and generous person with a colossal heart. It meant more to me than I let on that he came to visit me... I have family that wouldn't spend time with me and I WAS IN THEIR ZIPCODE.
I made breakfast and we had some of the most comfortable conversation of my life and then, like a pound of maple bacon, he was gone. I tried to see if we could meet up for Mardi Gras but, to no avail. I truly wish him the best and hope to still frolic our city together. Then again, I also understand if he chooses not too; I've been on that side of the equation as well.
I hobbled my way into the bowling alley across an open space of hardwood floors where Cajuns where jigging in every which direction. The music even smelled of this great city. I am not really sure what that means but gosh, it was a lively scene. Unlike any other dance hall I'd been to.... and I've been to Billy Bob's and Florabama more times than I can count.
After securing a cold Budlight in my hand #ballingonabudget, I watched the feet of the colorful enthusiasts spinning and bouncing with jubilee. The washboard was almost hypnotizing. Gosh, that sounds like a Tide commercial. X)
A vibrant hippie was stepping to Zydeco alone so I joined her.
"Hey! Can you teach me?"
"Honey, we can learn together!"
After giving it a go with a clomp clomp clomp (still in the boot), a studious, yet big-headed bald guy flashed me a smile and asked me dance.
Rolling my eyes inside, I was in no position to turn him down; my desire to learn exceeded my distaste for cocky males. After cheap conversation and obvious judgement of my dancing, the second song ended and he made his way to a thin blonde with evident Zydeco experience.
After returning to my new hippie friend, we danced the night away with no remorse for butchering the dance of this great city.
There wasn't a day that didn't pass during my dog-sitting days that I didn't find some vibrant thing to do. Since I've bled black and gold since birth, I figured why not try my hand at a saints game.
The dome really is home. <3
If you can believe it... I've got one more NOLA post in me.
I thought it was the times
Or the attitude of my finds
Maybe it was that particular guy
A compliment or another lie?
Manners were never taught
New to a girl that can't be bought
Healing from fresh a wound
True intentions surface soon
Unimpressed to disappointment
A new cologne becomes ointment
Onto to the next mistake
For granted he did take
Another fling cannot stand,
Dating a boy instead of a man
What to keep your eyes peeled for:
*manipulative behaviors
*inability to hold a serious conversation
*disrespect in any form, even if "joking"
*blatant selfishness
*close-mindedness
*seeks convenience in every opportunity
*self-righteous
*guilt tripper
*unable to express feelings more times than not
*avoids taking responsibility even in the smallest of matters
*requires prompting semi-regularly
*eyes wander
*lacks aspiration
Girls really want the D ;)
haha but for cereal, that's the thing boys don't understand. If you respect a good girl, it will be WELL worth it. Disrespect her and you'll get the wrath she's been cultivating.
I've written plenty of posts about people showing you exactly who they are and excusing myself from accepting the fact that I let another loser burn my energy.
Since I bounce like an 80's pogo-stick, I figured I should expand on my adventures hobbling and wobbling around in a medical-grade (not Steve Madden unfortunately) Velcro boot. So... I ended up having broken toes I mentioned two posts ago for more than 6 weeks!! Possibly because I didn't seek medical attention or possibly because I can't stop, won't stop....
1. Conceal the pain
2. Blend dark colors with my black boot for fashion forgiveness
3. Cover-up the restrictions and contort adventure
My aunt offered me first dibs at a dog and house-sitting gig for 3 weeks in October; Hallo-YEAH! October 31st is my second favorite holiday; my first favorite fluctuates but, Halloween is always a solid 2nd. <3
Voodoo Fest has ALWAYS been on my bucket list! Having the privilege of spending every summer and fall break in New Orleans, this vibrant city easily became my heart's home. From Jackson Square (Main Name proof I belong there ;) to The Saints to crawfish boils, that place exemplifies my existence. I don't really know what that means but... it felt right and a little spicy ;)
Why did I waste my time talking to a guy on the phone from Texas while I was in my favorite city in Louisiana? Because I was in a pathetic state where I thought I needed the comradely. It's not that he showered me in compliments or promises of some fruition when I returned, I think it was he was a deep voice on the other line of my phone. Bleak, I know, but we only talked while I was in New Orleans. I've GOT to re-channel my energy. .....This is actually one of the conversations I had with Comet (pictured above). He ghosted me and I'm not even focusing on it on this post? Wow, that's.... progress.
Now back to the 3 week stay in a boot in New Orleans in a transition.
Since I was less than impressed with the Voodoo line-up, I signed up to volunteer so I could gain admittance fo free. The fest was 3 weeks away, so to ensure I soaked up as much of this vibrant city as possible, I met with my bad ass uncle (yes, that is an official name I call him to his face. Any birthday card or Christmas present is addressed to him as so) who gave me the low-down on local music throughout the city.
"Damn girl! You're hoofing it in that thing!"
"I won't let this thing stop me. I'm headed to a Blues Fest right now!"
He chuckled, "I see ya!"
I continued with my swag (bahaha) and as the rip of an electric guitar greeted my ears, I breathed easy. Bypassing the over-priced beer tents (there were at least 7. I approve) I made my way to the stage that had a man with long curly hair adjusting his kapo and microphone. Moving further from the stage currently producing music and locking my eyes on the magician to perform, I was in a trance. Yes, I know I wrote magician and I meant it. He was a blues rockstar that reminded me of "The Publisher" I dated in 2018. Long hair, passionate, and guhhh could he play the guitar (I later learned).
While caught in my trance, I rooted my feet in a spot right behind a walkway so my view would never be fully obstructed. Immediately to my right was a group of Californians that offered their lawn chair before I could make my way to the dry patch of grass below my mismatching shoes.
"Oh no, I'm fine! Thank you so much though," I smiled.
"Are you sure?" said the only guy in the group of four westerners.
"Absolutely, but the thought means a lot!"
It turned out, I had made friends almost instantly. Once the set of my "magician" started, I returned comfortably to my trance swaying and really soaking in the blues. Gosh, why don't I listen to blues more often... or at all? I thought to myself.
As the songs bled into each other, I was taken with the soul on stage and almost didn't hear the man from the group of four beside me insist I sit in his chair while he get in line for more beer. Smiling at the hospitality and actually up for the gesture, I transferred my weight to my hands and then back to my uninjured foot to stand. My first step toward the chair, I almost ate it and plummeted face-first into the lawn of Lafayette Square Park.
The three Cali girls seated in lawn chairs leaned forward in urgency and one even let out a gasp. Catching myself, I laughed, "See? Clumsy. That's how I got this boot in the first place!"
Once seated, we began conversation as the Blues's set played it's final song. You bet your sweet self I hopped to my uneven feet for a standing ovation when they were done. Gah! That was talent.
He seemed really humble when a burly stranger slapped him on the back and said, "great playing man. Haven't heard blues like that since B.B. King."
"I really appreciate that man," the star responded while placing a hand on the stranger's back.
As he continued to walk to the north side of the park, the guy who's chair I was in, returned to our pow-wow spot. As I scrambled to get up, the two girls to my left rose to their feet and offered one of their chairs. In a game of musical chairs where I couldn't lose, I casually and carefully made my way over to one of the vacant seats.
I conversed with them about music and travel (my two favorite things on the planet) and then they invited me to smoke with them. Pulling out a blunt from his breast pocket, he lit it and just like the rap songs, "puff, puff, pass."
My eyes were probably as big as my boot. "Oh... I have a new job I am trying to land and if I get it, I've gotta pass the drug test in like 2 weeks. Thanks though!"
"You sure?" His wife asked in-between inhales.
"Oh yes," I smiled.
I listened to another set before setting off to church in The French Quarter. I absolutely LOVE being able to walk everywhere in a city. This suburan girl never got that. That's probably part of the reason I loved Madrid and Barcelona so much. Okay.... that's only 1 of like 9834 reasons ;)
Wouldn't you know as I made my way further through downtown, I found myself smack in the middle of a 2nd line for a wedding!!!
Anywho.... after shimmying my way out of someone's special day, I made my way to church and continued to make my way around this fabulous city at the same pace I could have under normal conditions.
Let's be honest, I'm anything but normal. This blog of 400 something posts is living proof of that.... Until next post of this NOLA series.... cheers!
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.
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.
Author
Chef Steph cooking up trouble. If she can't find anything real, she bakes real good sweets. Chocolate really may mend a broken heart...
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