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...
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Standards to oblige-- bent Anticipation of something built Following bios and emotions spilled Sheer intrigue wrapped like candy Something shore leaves you sandy Different dawn and dialect This one too, I must forget You Only Live Once (YOLO) so 2 years talking and 4 days in my bed and he's "just living for the moment."Mr. Fine Lines is a guy that I thought was special since he picked me over my bestie through Snapchat. He kept contact throughout the course of three homes I packed and unpacked through and through 2 1/2 boyfriends. Sidebar: It's not that "the 1/2" was half a man but, he was someone I was kind of serious about but declined his request to become his girlfriend. He was fine being in the background because he values his freedom more than his space; for him, they are not interchangeable. He wants his space to be consumed with bright screens, clouds of smoke, materialism, ammunition for verbal and physical jousts, and mentions of wanting a family. The freedom is for the freaking. He was a strategist, apparent in his use of words and applications of compliments. He alludes to you being the "perfect woman" but, never the perfect woman for him. It's irrelevant if I thought we were compatible. Which, since I'm pouring this out... I didn't, point blank. The timing was "just right," revealing "just the right amount" of what-you-wanna-hear while spooling the mystery. He never revealed too much, yet talked quite a bit-- especially leading up to the trip where he flew into my space, head, and fears. In the countdown of the 2 weeks prior to him landing in Dallas, he strategized the physical aspect of our anticipated time together. After our first encounter, he revealed that he seldom speaks to girls that sleep with him on the first date. The double standard that he relayed through the phone enraged me and quite frankly, should have ceased future efforts. I rebuttled with, "Shhyeah, like you weren't naked pressed against me. You wouldn't have stopped me if we did it." "Probably not, but how am I to know that girl doesn't sleep with other guys on the first date?" Rolling my eyes, I must have suppressed that red flag wrapped conversation because I entertained not one but two flights for our second encounter/date/rendezvous. The first one, I canceled because of Covid and another lust-interest that was pursuing me HARD. He even went as far to make a bet with me of who would give-in first to sex. YUP, for $50. So much for reserving bets for noble steeds. Am I so naive to scroll past the painfully sexual text messages to see what I wanted to hear and ONLY what I wanted to hear? Like the card game, I'm gonna call BS on ALL of it.You teased me with words like:
Your finale wouldn't be complete without:
His actions conveyed he dreaded a relationship with me since my plans, like most living in this pandemic, are not etched in ink. This is contrary to his words in a prior conversation about an ex-interest of mine that has now deemed himself pan-sexual. Mr. Fine Line got slightly heated and used choice words about such an arrangement. He stressed that it should be just you and your person. Then, in person, he exhibited macho status when Since he was all about things being "just right" and him "not wanting to share" yet he could be active on dating apps In no effort to be ironic, his dessert is a British breakfast and he is the closest person to Ron Swanson I've ever met. I give you, like the 3 home-cooked meals I gave him with not as much as a "thx bro," |
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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