I used to think being called cute is an insult. It's a "safe" compliment. It is also a common compliment for puppies and babies. BUT, it's preferred to sexy. I've only come to this conclusion THIS last week of April. I'm surprised my eyes haven't rolled into the back of my head. We'll start with the guy I was going out with when Mr. Blues Clues from last post texted me about "adding to the party" completely oblivious to the fact that I was not playing pool in a t-length dress 42 minutes from my house for "fun." This guy we will call Mr. You-Should-Take-This-As-A-Compliment. This guy was more attractive in person than pictures and certainly carried himself as such. His eyes scanned my thin, pencil shaped dress several times before the words "wow, you look great" fell out his mouth. The typical banter commenced as I sipped on his southern accent that didn't match his face and a chocolate rum drink shaken, not stirred. He bought the bartenders a round and referenced his friends that kept illuminating his phone. "Everyone is trying to hang when I'm in town" he explained. "God, you're so hot," he muttered as I rolled my eyes. Speaking of rolls, cue waitress stage left with our sushi rolls. He picked at his plain California rolls, eating only 4 pieces by the time I had consumed my complex order that claimed to be spicy, yet to no avail. "Let's go play poooool." He pleaded with emphasis on the double o's almost like a Brit. "In this dress?" "Yeah, why not?" Another eye roll and I was on my way to his souped up black Jeep in which he opened my door for me. *Tallied 1 for the visitor team* But then, removed the tally with his music selection. It was a playlist of rap "munchies" as I heard my younger sister refer to them once. Kodac Black and other young voices I'd never heard of. I had no concern he would keep driving and take me somewhere dangerous, never to return even though now I was miles from my car in a city 48 minutes from my house. I guess this comes with dating for 6 years. WOW that long. Jeez. He leaned in once he parked and I was curious how this one would feel. There's something about a first kiss that is thrilling. So many questions to be answered. Will it be sweet? Will it be slow and intentional or sloppy and hurried? What about the size of his lips-- mine are small so I need ones a bit more robust. Will he use too much tongue? Will he use it or park it in my mouth like it's a garage? As the thoughts flooded, so did the memory that we had kissed before. Rewind 2 nights. His messages were persistent. We had conversed on snapchat from a mutual swipe on FB Dating (the most effortless dating app to initiate when plastered) but it never formulated into meeting. He claimed that he usually "drops" people that don't make time to meet up but there was "something different about you and I don't know why." Color me NOT flattered. That's more of a line than the yellow ones on 35E. I don't know if it was the peanut butter whiskey I was sipping or the loneliness that kept calling but I gave him my address and my bed time so he knew he had approximately 90 minutes to converse with me and then skedaddle. .....guess his country accent was rubbing off on me. It was much more pronounced in person and I loved the contrast. He dressed preppy and clean cut but had a country twang and a smirk that made one part of your brain wonder... Banter was instant and after a few hugs, he lifted me and leaned in. I held my breath and wasn't disappointed. His lips were much bigger than mine (kinda pouty) and admittedly softer than mine. I shewed him out of my house before it got too steamy and he hounded me about "a real date" until I said yes the following Thursday. BACK TO CURRENT DAY: The kiss came with his right hand on my left hip. I leaned in and enjoyed the big lips that made mine feel almost held, embraced. We stayed there for just a moment and then my hand fell into his fairly small but significantly darker hand and we made our way to the busy brick bar. The energy poured onto the street as we walked the stairs inside. I saw a sea of green across the open floor plan of the bar with Stars fans energized with the second period in full swing projected on the front wall of the bar. My date led me to the bar ordering himself a jack and coke while I took a chance with a strawberry daiquiri. I figured I should stay with rum and I was still kinda hungry from the sushi so I figured the drink could meet me halfway. We made our way to the pool table where he broke the balls? I am very unfamiliar with pool terminology here.... I'm much better with swimming pools. lol I have lessons I'm giving today, actually. Pool beans. When I leaned to aim the cue ball toward one of the solids, I felt his eyes. I looked back and a lustful look was plastered on his face. I was actually surprised it was not complete with drool, that's how deep this look was. "Can I help you?" I blurted, popping my hip out and greeting it with my fist, creating a triangle with my arm. Stirring, he shrugged. "You could." Agitated, I pushed the issue. "What? You don't want me to be attracted to you?" Taking a step back I replied, "yeah but there's more than just looks..." "You're so hot," he said, stepping toward me. I retreated to the other side of the pool table and took my shot and missed miserably... I guess like him. I sipped the worst daiquiri I've ever had, even pre-21 years and used that as my break from the tension he was single-handedly created. Begging the bartender to make ANYTHING else, I apologized and slipped him a couple dollars cash. I returned to my lustful date with Jameson Orange with a splash of soda. I played off his blunt stares and played the game.... and pool too. We played one more game and then agreed to go back to other section of bars where my car was awaiting me respectfully, not lustfully. I could hear the guy on Mr. You-Should-Take-This-As-A-Compliment's phone say, "yeah it's me and you know." My date replied, "oh your girl?" "Not really," the guy on the phone responded. Oooo I could not wait to get out of here. "Okay, we're headed there." He closed out his tab and then grabbed my hand and led me to the door. I mentioned work tomorrow and my long drive and he tried to coax me to stay. Once he closed my car door and he secured himself in his, is when he said it. "You know, I usually don't talk to girls that don't sleep with me on the first date." I looked at him like he just blew out my birthday candles and sneezed on the cake. "Then I'll happily get out when we get to my car." "No, but don't you think that means something that I'm still here with you?" For some reason, he took my dumbfounded face as permission to proceed. "I mean I have so much fun with you but sex is important eventually." "This is our first date and I'm just not that kinda girl," I barked. "I'm just saying you should take that as a compliment. Girls approach me all the time and I am staying with you even though you don't want to do that." And as if this statement wasn't repulsive enough, he continued with "there's just something about you." Upon getting to my car, a panic attack commenced.I would like to say that this next part is shameful and I should either omit it or have reconsidered sharing this entire story but it wouldn't be datesandcakes if I didn't tell the whole story no matter how it makes me look. Here comes the unbelievable response to the whole situation..... dun. dun. DUNNN. He refused to leave me with the panic attack happening. "What can I do? I don't want you to drive like this." I tried to explain that my attacks have no triggers and no estimated duration. He asked if I wanted him to sit with me and said he didn't care his friend was waiting so I nodded. He sat in the passenger's side of my best friend's ride.... oh wait, that's a song. He sat on my passenger's side and I KISSED HIM. WHAT THE GREAT SCOTT, MARTY IS GOING ON? The heaviness and struggle with my breathing continued so I took breaks and then told him I just needed to get home. The panic rode home with me and sat on my chest for hours before I could fall asleep. I wanted to end this post with hot independent girl energy saying, This is the only "Sale" I'm on:But... I waited a few attempts until agreeing on a second date (third meeting) with Mr. You-Should-Take-This-As-A-Compliment. Stay tuned for part 2 and the recipe.
1 Comment
"God doesn't bless where you don't belong"I'm a SUCKER for the story. Another guy I met in real life.
Flirty banter, per usual. But looking back on the convo, it was really little effort on his part...He used one of MY messages as a segway to set-up a date. Hmm... Humorous part is I was leaving a date when he inquired if I was still out. I informed him of my double the next day and asked, "who said I wanted you to crash my party?" He assured me it would be adding to the party. "Shhhyeah, but it is crashing the party if it's a date. For all you know, it could have been." #guilty He used THAT as his opportunity to ask me out!!! "Maybe Friday evening we can't do that?" I had to ask for clarity and he indeed asked me out. Sure, I'm not an innocent party here but then again, I was honest... he just didn't believe me. *shrugs* He picked a place for us to meet. Didn't even offer to pick me up. CLUES? So how does a lady respond to that? Well she get's her best friend to drop her off and she pregames, of course! 3 shots of vodka in on an empty stomach and I strut up the alley. Bowling alley that is. He said I looked beautiful and put our name on the bowling list. We made our way to the bar for MORE drinks. It was 8pm because he had just gotten off work so I know he didn't have time to eat. After our second drink at the bar I asked, "are you hungry?" "I could eat." "Well I'm gonna have to eat soon with drinking. I had a couple shots before I got here," I confessed. He laughed. "Cause I took so long? Yeah, we can eat after this." If this "clue" wasn't enough, he didn't wait for a romantic moment or comment, he just leaned over and kissed me. Drunk me kissed him back and lingered. *facepalm* After sweeping the lane and striking my 6'2 date out.... errrr sparing some time to show him how to bowl. I asked where we were getting nourishment and if he could give me a ride home. He said he didn't mind the place we picked was 3 minutes in the opposing direction of my house and then we got a booth. More kissing commenced and he revealed his 10 year relationship that ended 3 years ago. Things still seemed to be moving along. Hand holding, he didn't get my door, but I was still into it. Also, I was still inebriated. 8 shots of vodka, whiskey, and vodka redbull will do that to ya ;) Outside my house was where my puzzler got sore. He..... hope there's not sensitive ears here. He bent me over his car and pressed against me like a thumb to a stamp on the corner of an envelope. One large hand tugged at my hair while the other lightly gripped my neck. His tongue found my neck and just when my breathing quickened he backed up. Gasping for air I turned my whole head, staring at him blankly. "I have to work tomorrow at 6am." "Wow, you're a tease." He smirked before I could say, "wow, that's what this feels like." I scoffed and turned toward the gate outside my house. I muttered a wish of safe travels and luck for his shift tomorrow and I punched my number into the gate while he backed up. I don't even think he checked to see I made it into the house before peeling onto the road. Texted me two hours later "I'm home" when he only lives 40ish minutes away. From there, the conversation was about the business he had ahead and friend he was picking up from the airport. I can't be jealous if it was a girl but that was when our convo ended. ^^Even his mailbox has a red flag! I guess all do but... I liked him :(( I asked God if this boy was just going to hurt me, to remove him from my life."And he did." Not gonna correct the grammar or point out that a text message takes all of 58 seconds; I'm just going to take Blue's clues and God's answer to my prayer. 2 cups blanched almond flour
1 cup creamy almond butter ½ cup maple syrup 1 tsp. vanilla extract ½ tsp. cinnamon freeze-dried blueberries sprinkles
https://www.nickelodeonparents.com/these-blues-clues-you-cookies-are-all-bark-no-bake/ Indecision of familiarity
Obnoxious interest there with me. Mental gymnastics Recyclable fears sort plastics. Coy connection of parts Bullseye wit, teal darts. Strictly fun, strictly forgotten Serial dater story: rotten. Country and coastal flare Headphones for accent blare. Delectable with every syllable Nectar interest, spillable. Prints stained with more than smoke Rugged ocean collar bloke. Blurring freckles like cinnamon Sharply seasoned by his skin. Forbidden fore contrasting morals Soft silver in his almond portals. Giving light to soul yet explored, Disguised by ground earth adored. Reputation route well-known; Unraveling bows of hearts on loan. Long lashes and long conversation, Held until sexual alleviation. Lazy Boy, symbolic possibility Recline relation simplicity. Short of stock to invest, Another leg pair to impress. Horizon is quilted with clouds Overcast of doubt, he's proud. Realistic opening as an umbrella, This season is one I mustn't dwell. I fell right between the lines, so you could leave me for dead.You didn't sever it, so you could keep your options open. Allowing myself to be one of your options was my mistake. And as you carry on watching pole dancers and conversations sliding into your illuminated view, I'll continue fuming for allowing this to happen. Learn from DatesandCakes, you're NOT an option, you're the solution-- hell, you may well be the purpose. You're the fire and the fight that makes it all worth it. You're to be pursued and wooed. You're the warmth that is otherwise unattainable. You are valued, cherished, treasured, and damn well are enough. A sharp connection, a stylus in a groove
Rhythm and words quite familiar A melodic explanation of a mood Track 8 presumes her a filler Then an anthem not for sharing Lyrics establish loyal pursuit One-and-only self-preparing Steel trust now accessible loot A flash of light with notification His active dating app chorus Revealing wilting patience B flat taunts: there was no "us" Flashbacks of a similar cadence Side two seals it with kiss Force his memory into just a dance Unfinished record, inevitable dis Sure showed the record player Leveling up the harp and heart string Casting her skies shades grayer Farewell to another shoal fling Remember the romantic comedy "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days?" Well.... DatesandCakes has her own real approach on it!Guess I'll have to continue to play the cards I've been dealt.Do NOT mistake this for the 80's Rom-Com, "Pretty in the Pink." The protagonist does NOT get the guy, have a theme song, or have any recollection of wearing or packing the color pink on this 3 day trip to Prague. In Prague, I found myself in a love parallelogram, if you will. A triangle just doesn't seem to be the shape to most accurately represent what was that day after Christmas night in clubs across Prague. At the meeting spot for the pub crawl at 8 sharp, I saw a tall blonde with a sweater, or "jumper" as they call it, and skinny jeans similar to mine. I sparked up conversation instantly and her accent was quite a surprise. Australian, hands down. Stereotypical of an American, a vast number of us are infatuated with Australian and English accents. I know that's a stereotype... But are you really going to argue with me? You don't enjoy a good "mate" or "bloody hell?" Yeah that's what I thought... Anyway, after befriending The Awesome Aussie, we began to take shots that were compliments of the crawl for the first hour. Completely unlimited. She claimed she needed to pace herself, but I had experience with my blonde best friend back home on how-to entice others to take shots. There were three Brazilian girls standing, smiling, and sipping a beer. Why are you sipping during the only hour of free drinks, I thought. Beginners. The Aussie must have had a similar thought because she prompted me, "let's go talk to them! They need to live and it up!" Before you knew it, we had formed forces. Three beautiful Brazilians, The Awesome Aussie who was also beautiful, and me and my American Travel buddy (whom I guess to someone is beautiful ;) Since my travel buddy is a dude, I guess he's not included in our group that became known in the crawl as "The Baddest." That's not me saying that... That turned out to be the name that was coined at the second or third bar from some of the other guys that approached my guy friend. He said, "man you are so freaking lucky! Those girls are the baddest in here. And you are talking to like all of them?!" Another one, an American... Of course! If you've listened to any of my other European Bar Crawl stories... I always end up getting tangled up with an American. How basic of me LOL This particular one was a tall glass of water that also approached my travel buddy and said, "Man, the girl in the dress..... great job landing her, because she can freaking dance!" Immediately, he corrected him and prompted him to approach me since I was single and could be bothered to mingle. Of course, he never did. Then what about the parallelogram? It's coming... I promise! As one of the Brazilians found another Brazilian and kind of coupled off with him for the rest of the night... The rest of us continued to dance, flirt, and soak up Prague, since none of us had ever been here before. After one conversation my travel buddy had with The Awesome Aussie, my travel buddy looked defeated. He approached me and said, "Well damn. At least she likes one of us." Confused with who he was referring to, I pressed further. "The awesome Aussie! She's not into me... But she likes you." "Oh yeah, she's awesome," I said innocently. He threw a teasing look at me and said, "Nah man, she dates girls too." I threw my head back cackling. And if you've ever had the privilege to see this in real life, it's quite the scene. Completely flattered, I took the compliment and continued with my drinks. Scanning the room, I found this beautiful blonde, tall glass of water that I'd noticed that the first club, but figured he was out of my league. This time, his blue eyes met mine. Damn it! Another blue-eyed beauty. He had an edgy kind of guy next to him who was also quite attractive, but didn't have my eye on that one. The Aussie walked right up to them. So feeling bold as well, I figured I'd join her. Flirting commenced and we ended up dancing around each other, but never necessarily together. Picture 4-year-olds playing soccer-- they get close, but usually never actually get the ball, they just hover. While the Aussie interacted with the one I found most beautiful (he hailed from Poland), I interacted with the attractive, but edgy Russian. The only thing I could have ever imagined as a personality trait in regards to a Russian is that they're kind of intense... This guy definitely fit that bill, or that "Todd"... Just kidding! I can't remember his name anyway. On the way to the bathroom, or "the lou" as she called it , her and I exchanged notes on which boy we were trying to pursue. She was into the Russian, I was into the Polish man, the Polish man seemed magnetically attracted to the Aussie and the Russian seem to gravitate to me, even after our conversation ended and I trailed off both literally and mentally. Then, keep in mind the Aussie has also had a girlfriend... So the possibilities here for what everyone was wanting seems endless. See what I'm saying? A triangle would just not suffice....Advancing to the last club, I could see that the Russian began "feeling me." Not literally.... yet.... Making his way over to the bar, he whipped his head back at me saying, "You want something? What are you drinking?" Regardless of the country, I seldom pass up a drink offered from a cute boy as long as I can see it being made. I matched his vodka Sprite with "an abundance of limes." That's a quote. Usually I go for soda water, but the cute little bottles were something I couldn't resist. European bars seldom have carbonated soda stations or soda guns like our land-of-the-free bars. They also charge for water, since it too is bottled. Affordable? It's almost always more than an alcoholic drink. #hellohangover After three of those lemon and lime sugared puppies (not ruff in the slightest), we made our way to the dance floor and he tried to keep rhythm. I would like to "Blame It On the Alcohol," but I'm pretty sure this boy just had no rhythm. Cute though, we danced as I glanced over at the other pair, The Awesome Aussie and my fleeting Crush, the Polish dude. Once Queen came on, it was a wrap. The Aussie and I screamed at the top of our lungs and jammed (no peanut butter in this country, unfortunately) together and the two boys found their way into other girls' arms. Fine by us, we thought. But like my blonde best friend in the states and I discovered time and time again, they usually come back. So acting as if nothing happened, they were turn to us probably 5 songs or 10 songs later. That was the best measure of time I had since I don't sport a watch and my phone was rapidly dying. At this point, we had forgotten about our Brazilian girls until we ran into one of them (not literally, I only run to buffet lines and from commitment). Apparently, this club was the the setting for a shitshow for everyone involved.
It was around 5 a.m. when the club closed, and the parallelogram of unrequited lust, made its way toward Old Prague, across one of the famous bridges. My hostel, mind you was in a completely different direction. Since I had no data or internet connection, I couldn't order an Uber, I couldn't get on maps to see how to get back, and oh yeah, I couldn't remember the name of our hostel. Do you know any hostels there are in downtown Prague? Probably equivalent to hotels in downtown Dallas. FML why don't I eat more blueberries? I tried to take notes from the Aussie's Google Maps to a hostel that sounded like mine, but I had no pen and no paper. So where else can I put the notes? In my dying phone. Awesome. Now we know the Polish dude was never interested, but do you think the Russian even offered a "that sucks" or "good luck?" No. Totally disregarded, I made my way into the foreign city alone. Along the way of my makeshift MapQuest directions, I miraculously found an open wi-fi connection that I could connect to. I'm not exaggerating here. It really truly was a miracle to find a place with free Wi-Fi. During our 6 hours of daylight earlier that very day sightseeing, I could not find even one place that had open wi-fi. Not cafes, shops, tourist spots, and internet cafes were extinct in this city. Thanking God I found this open Wi-Fi connection, I turned to Google for help. I sent a message to my travel buddy to keep an eye out for me and to tell me the code to get into the hostel. Isn't it fun, how some guys seem to be around till you need them? After feeling like I got my bearings, I ventured out again with now 1% on my phone battery. Just as it was dying, I came across a taxi man helping a couple and their luggage into his car. In all my experience in Prague, you know the whole three days of it, I found a blatant disregard for humans that we're not "in Czech" with their culture. Maybe just humans in general. So, I was a bit timid to ask the driver for help since I've been shut down several times just when ordering coffee, getting dinner, and sipping air through my freckled nose. It's not like I wasn't paying... well, aside from the air. Well, thankfully, this guy only rolled his eyes once and told me which direction to go. I totally guessed it was "the Central hostel" and he helped me head in the right direction. After passing shady figures in the street with determination and adrenaline pumping through me, I made it to my hostel and in through the front door; I practically carved the code with my nail into my skin. Yes, my memory really is that bad. I climbed the flight of stairs, and knocked on our hostel door. I remembered what door was ours by the chipped paint close to the keyhole. Visually, I'm okay... Numbers and address wise? I'm screwed.
As my travel buddy answered the door, I began gushing about my night and inquiring of his. I found a different air in the room and I couldn't quite put my finger on it until it struck me that we may not be alone. I prosed the famous question... "Is someone here?" "Sorry," I heard as covers pushed up and out, revealing a small face framed with brown wavy hair. Wow, I thought to myself, but tried hard to maintain a poker face. I know we share the same name, but I am no Lady Gaga. The stranger began laughing, unveiling her as American. The kind of "Minnesota-nice ....dontcha know." Somehow, the conversation turned to Celine Dion. The other American was so young that she was unfamiliar with the artist! Laughing hysterically, I belted into a famous Celine Dion song. My Travel buddy joined me and cued the backup music on his iPhone. After my performance, I told him to not even think about waking me in the morning, since it had been such an eventful night. Wouldn't you know that my happy little ass woke up at 3 p.m. the next day. Hungover, but happy. Although it wasn't my favorite city because of the rude people, I do believe you should give this place a Nike Czech and "just do it" ;) Just because he didn't push the lines of pastel lace,
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 Let's Pretend:You don't still have some of the best years of my life. I've had as much fun sneaking around in any setting than that dorm with you. Our first kiss didn't shock me to my core. Electrifying. Grr-grrr-grrrease lightening Our last kiss was something I thought would happen-- like we would die holding hands like in The Notebook. The end was only rocking-chair-rocky and that I was fair to you. I didn't keep your letters; every last one. I didn't hide the 3 scrapbooks full of memories from myself. I don't feel a sharp pain deep in my abdomen when I see your name pop-up on my best friend's phone. I've forgotten: the passion, the tears, the ambition, the phone calls, the encouragement to pursue our dreams, the endless laughter, the insiders, the adventures, the parents (all 3 of them~not including mine), the differences, the concerts, the chocolate, the plans... and how God had a different one in mind. The "me" we allowed each other to be were beautiful. I don't think I'll ever see that girl again and I can't pretend that's not a loss. A burial of the most powerful force I've encountered yet, and the dirt is still under my painted nails.. Sometimes, I acknowledge that's all I have left.I heard this song today and couldn't help but interpret it as his final thoughts. Maybe I'm no Selena, but boy did these raw words circle her in red. For awhile now, I've been trying to resist from checking on you. I know you're thriving and, I guess I'll have to leave it at that.Heat is out in the oven tonight, so no chance at 350.Let's pretend I didn't push you away after hours exploring a national landmark at a preserved park. I preserved my emotions and sailed on the spontinuity waves of living life unemployed together. I still have trouble believing you picked me over her. That's possibly why I never picked you. I never picked the possibility. Let's pretend I didn't freak when you tried to be intimate. Not with your clothes off, but actually connect. Let's pretend you didn't notice my distance and forgave me anyway. Let's pretend I didn't crumble in your car that afternoon I gushed my turmoil to deter you from a broken woman; I still wish those were things you never knew. I don't ever think I'll see you the way you saw me and I wish that didn't scare me. You were okay with me dating other guys, okay with whatever relationship I wanted, and okay with me constantly ragging on your favorite city. Yet, I was okay with letting you go. I was okay with venturing alone. I was okay even when I revisited us physically after that coffeehouse concert. I realized in at least one way, you were just like the others and then I no longer pretended. I had a sweet spot for him.... for a season. I valued my time alone so much, I couldn't imagine him or any other flavor consuming my time. It's not always "the guy," sometimes it really is you and your needs in the moment. Sometimes I love the smell of candy corns, other times I couldn't be bothered.He's no flake, so I omitted the coconut.
I used a box of graham cracker crumbs, but if you only have actual graham crackers, process them in a food processor until they are a fine crumb. Stir into butter. Press into the bottom of your prepared pan. Sprinkle white chocolate chips, peanut butter chips, coconut, and candy corn over the top. Pour sweetened condensed milk evenly over the top of the bars. Bake for about 25 minutes, until they get golden around the edges. Cool completely before slicing into bars. https://www.crazyforcrust.com/candy-corn-magic-bars/ Let's pretend allowing you to take me to my favorite Disney movie in live action didn't mean everything; you found my "nerding out" adorable. Let's pretend I didn't want to climb all 6 foot 4 inches of you and drown in those damn turquoise eyes. Let's forget about your constant laughter at any wink of humor that spilled from my burgundy stained lips. Let's pretend I didn't see this coming when you disclosed your hometown is nestled "deep in the heart of Texas." [I have such a history from guys that took a toll: all but one or two originated from Texas] Let's pretend I wasn't the first girl to tell you no, and that's why you sprung for date #2. Let's pretend you weren't impressed with my internal music encyclopedia. Let's pretend I didn't catch on to your inconsistency in stories, priorities, and ex-fiance. Let's disregard your failure to mention you lived in another state. Let's pretend we never went to the beach that Sunday morning after coffee. Let's pretend I didn't notice where your eyes settled when you saw me in a swimsuit. Let's not revisit the shame your reaction had on my self image, self esteem, and well.... my...self. Let's not highlight the disgust you exhibited and how you refused to touch me. Let's pretend that although I had built up confidence in my internal attributes and sunshine smile, it wasn't built to weather this kind of disapproval. Let's pretend I wasn't raised on measuring up (or the lack their of). Let's pretend that I, like most the girls I know, didn't battle body dismorphia. Let's pretend I didn't watch the woman I idolized shrivel to bones and thin skin because of exterior circumstances spurred by internal ones. Let's pretend you were concerned with anything other than bringing me back home like a troubled youth you were stuck with for community service. Let's pretend I've thought of you TWICE since that Sunday.... oh, because I haven't. Whether you wanna splurge on a dessert without as many calories or you just happen to have the ingredients on hand, here is a "Skinny" Chocolate Chip Cheesecake Bar Recipe.
Depths of blue eyes, I breathed. Haven’t I been here before, I thought to myself. Yes, but not with this particular pair. Not like this. He was a roommate of an ex (ages ago) that I never really thought twice about. Married and grinding away at this thing called life in the state I left behind, he only crossed my mind when he crossed my Snapchat. Mr. Blade, we’ll call him, because he had the potential to cut right through me, was always the flirty type. He began with jovial jousting of words and smiles were exchanged, along with quick-witted responses. A common love of traveling was revealed and then a suggestion of visiting each other’s town: mine, a quiet beach town with a twang and his, a Hispanic city of significance with culture to match. “Yeah, you and your wife are welcome to crash on the futon,” I typed. “Oh Steph, we’ve been divorced for 2 years now,” he typed back. In a mischievous manner, I was relieved, but shared a response of empathy, to which he dispelled immediately. “Shit happens.” Not the sharing or feeling type… I have been here before. The walkway to his apartment was lit with string lights over artificial grass. He guided me through the countless gates of security and illuminated the elevator button for second floor from the top. His front door too was opened with an electric chip. Guiding me through his modern palace, I felt his cold eyes on my skin, as my eyes wandered the different rooms and patches of decor. As we drifted into the kitchen, he breathed something coy and as I fired back, he lifted me onto the granite island. “Time to address this tension,” he smirked. Completely unaware that there was enough tension to address, I cackled as he brushed my unruly bangs out of my emerald eyes. His lips pressed hard against mine and he gripped the back of my curly head. Hard-pressed to reject an invitation for adventure, I kissed back. The fingers to my left hand lightly massaged the back of his blonde hair, while my right hand clutched his bicep. Breathing heavily after several, several moments, he inquired of my appetite for something other than him. Chuckling, I put my freckled hand in his as we strolled alongside the river to a fabulous Mexican restaurant. The date was everything a date should be: great ambiance, warm company, and chivalry galore. From pulling out my chair upon arriving at our teal table and crimson chairs, to planning a drive-by-viewing of a plate I thought looked dreamy, to paying, he was a gentleman. He even entertained my request for photography reinforcements. Instead of exploring the city, as expected, he lead me back to his security-clearance apartment. It's as if we picked up where we left off on the granite counter top, but this setting was a bit more comfortable. While kissing on his Tempur-Pedic bed, he kept moving my "wispy" hair in-between nips at my fair neck. Uttering the words I loathe, I closed my eyes so he couldn't see them roll. "I want you so bad" ricocheted off the walls of my cranium. Again, again, again, I thought. But then his blue eyes broke my train of thought. His kissing slowed and his gaze lengthened. He looked at me-- really saw me and I sighed. I felt like we stayed in that moment. It was our moment and I was captivated. Almost paralyzed with lust, I almost buckled, like my knees would have if we were standing. He's everything. This is right. Maybe if I just..... but my self-discipline hijacked the whimsical soundtrack. You know how this ends; you have been here before with these blue-eyed beauties. I pulled away in more ways than one and partook in another form. After recovery, he caressed me and slept skin-to-skin. Sweating from the blue-eyed furnace against me, I smiled even in my absence of sleep. The next morning, he surprised me with kisses throughout the day between flashes of his baby blues. When the chance to venture into the city presented itself, he caressed me and were back into a spiral of seduction. Passionate, but patient, we kissed with intent. Tugging at my high-waisted shorts, I sheepishly revealed the presence of "mother nature." Displeased, he suggested a towel. I scoffed, "this is like our first time hanging out- hanging out." "We've known each other for years..." "Yeah, but even if I wasn't on my period, I still probably wouldn't." I knew that was possibly a declaration of war, but I was tired of being the casualty of every "connection" I misread for something more. Naturally, he played it cool and offered a shower option. I considered it, but again, the emotions taunted me. I couldn't afford to relinquish that kind of control when I was still rebuilding. I caught glimpse of those eyes and his smile coaxed continuation of kisses. They weren't soft, but steamy. They beckoned more as his body tensed beneath me. I complied as whispers of my name filled the air. I longed for that feeling, but swallowed it. We laid there staring at the ceiling as I hinted at his earlier proposal of the shower. "I could be up for that," he uttered, motionless. He laid there while my patience and ability to hold my tongue dissipated. My next hint was as subtle as Christmas lights in January, yet his only advancement was towards his phone. WOW. I laid there fuming. Thank God I was on my period. Thank God I didn't allow his blue eyes to cut right through me.... completely. Knowing this wasn't a trip to earn a boyfriend, it also wasn't a trip I thought I'd be in his bed. My naive heart read more of a friendly vibe that maybe would turn into a drunken make-out but not this. Not a selfish repeat of a previous encounter(s). I grabbed my phone to pacify my climbing rage. He made attempts at conversation while I offered a cold, freckled shoulder. Precise responses sprinkled with a pleasant front, were served to him luke-warm before inquiring about dinner plans. He suggested a burger place and a genuine smile returned to my face. As I rode shotgun like a dog in a country song, my restraint to hold my tongue disappeared. "You know, I thought you were different, but you turned out to be like everybody else. I'm so much more than a good lay... it's so exhausting." Yup. I actually told the man driving me around and sharing his bed with me that he was like everybody else. Like Gretchen Weiners, I had cracked. Practically speechless, Mr. Blade sputtered, "more than a good lay?" Laughing in my head that those words left my lips, I shrugged my shoulders and nodded with a smirk the size of the state of Texas. After what I'd been through in Pensacola, I vowed to no longer tolerate belittling and manipulation. If things aren't in my best interest, I'm probably going to take "two steps to the left and then take it back now y'all. Chacha real smooth..." Needless to say, the blue-eyed Mr. Blade bid his time. We made conversation like strangers at a bar while stuffing branded burgers into our mouths. When we returned to the near penthouse apartment, I voiced frustration with his failure to follow through with his suggestion for shower play, because at this point, I was in competition mode. This attempt again supported my claim that he was like everybody else. I felt like an unattended Halloween bowl of candy with a sign reading, "please take only two." EMPTY. Many of the guys I've talked to belong in the sea because they are Sel-fish. When you have to take care of yourself anyways, it makes even the brightest of blues seem dim. Sigh. So I bought myself a drink at a bar on the river, had a ball fighting Tropical Depression Imelda back to his gated, guarded, locked-down apartment... much like something else alluded to here... After ringing myself out, I offered to sleep on the couch and Mr. Blade declined. So, alas, another sleepless night with a blue-eyed furnace spooning me. This night, I knew I was nothing more than a space-holder. Although he probably thinks he's cutting me out of his life, I've been on a bit a purge lately so.... Like Bonquiqui, boy, "I will cutttttt you."Mr. Blade's dessert would be fudge, since that's his favorite verb. Melt a bag of chocolate chips, like you normally would with blazing blue eyes. Then drizzle condensed milk over the melted madness. Stir with uneven expectations and then make it cold, like you both are after it's all said and not "done."When playing with Shoots and Ladders, I should have exercised caution....Before starting the finale of Mr. Shoots and Ladders, I must highlight that I did NOT know the end of this fling upon choosing his name. Dare I say, this pretense is foreshadowing for how this unfolded. I climbed the ladder of date number two to his home in a small town, 35 minutes away. He introduced me to the interesting world of disc golf, in which I found out I’m not as atrocious as I thought.... Every sport I’ve ever played, I’ve won most spirited (dad was NOT proud); this game however, I had a decent overhead toss. I threw it with such fury that actually went places. Built up anguish? Nah. It didn’t hurt that he encouraged me with kisses along with the way of the course. We returned to his house where he made queso mac and cheese and something else I can’t remember. He cooked like a high schooler when his parents were out of town and they forgot to leave pizza money. I guess I didn’t mind the change of pace. He put on a movie, which seemed to be our MO but the slow, intentional kissing was an enjoyable sequel. It was the kind of kissing where your lips linger and the moment matters; it drew us from his couch to his bedroom. I ended up spending the night in his campfire-of-a-room so, I grabbed my handy dandy revolving fan that just so happen to be in my backseat. Why such a random hidden gem? Cuz I'm that cool, okay? We had pillow talk about exes and seemed to be starting something. Yet, I knew the shoot was just around the corner. Because I'm a female and I certainly have a crazy factor to me, a little bit of Facebook creeping revealed his mysterious ex shared the same name as me and attended the same University. A little bit too much of a coincidence for me... But I pushed the eerie fact aside. Upon discussing our next meeting, he revealed that it would again have to be at his house since his car was disabled as part of his legal agreement for his recent DUI. Damn Steph, again? Did you not learn from the guy that begged you to drink 3 glasses of water at a bar so he could pass his breathalyzer? What about the one that was day-drinking since 10 am and refused to take an Uber over driving his truck across three bridges with 17-inch tires? "Shoot," some girls don't learn their lessons.... Exercising forgiveness, I didn’t write him off. Then, he revealed he’s much more of a pot smoker, but since he’s in the military, he goes for things that don’t show up on a drug test. Ignorant when it comes to drugs and their chemical affect and ability to trace on a drug test, I inquired which drugs could he possibly pass a drug test with. "Shrooms and acid," he responded plainly. "I just like to sometimes unwind and not feel something." I have no clue why I didn't "feel something" about that red siren of a statement, but I proceeded with this fling that was guaranteed, in my mind, to be only that. Directly leading up to date number three, we exchanged some flirty texts at work. I'll be candid and reveal that I was the one that rolled the dice and "started it." After all, I like playing the game.... Okay, okay.... when I say flirty, I mean steamy, in the back of a parked car, with Rose’s hand marking through the condensation on the window. Woops? Hey, it made a Monday feel like a Friday in a blink and a wink... or 3. Date three was composed of Buffalo chicken dip with tortilla chips (another crafted after school special) and time enjoying my fan in the heat of the moments. The clock was the only "shoot," because I had to be up at 4 am to leave for my 4th of July trip. In the morning, he gave me a compliment and a coffee to-go. During my trip, he kept his distance aside from leaving a comment on my selfie for my night-out in West Virginia. A simple, "look at you." I didn't really know how to respond, so I sent an emoji. Then, days later after returning and a little radio silence, I landed on the ultimate "shoot." My response was totallyyyyyyyy falsified. Upon reading this, I was hurt, vulnerable, and at a self-esteem All Time Low (no relation to the fabulous punk band). My best friend swooped in and saved the day with advice for my response. Refusing him anymore power, she encouraged me to lie through my teeth and make it seem that not only was I not feeling this interaction either, but I was going to have the decency to end the fling in person. What hurt the most was the fact that a guy with fresh DUI and an avid acid dropper dumped ME! A girl with a great head on her shoulders, a brighter future, mastery cooking skills, treasure chest of jokes, and a heart of the rarest gold couldn't keep a guy like that. But then, it fazed me... What kind of self-deprecating train am I riding that would make me want a guy that admittedly wanted to feel numbness and would go to such great lengths to achieve it? Even though he's the one trippin' acid.... I certainly did my share of trippin' ;) To add insult to injury, he dropped my fan at my front door before I got off work. Now that's something I'm not a fan of... Mr. Shoots and Ladder's dessert is.....Because I'm still a little salty and it can only go up from here....
This story is the epitome of why I'm single. BAHA I WISH this was fiction, but like all other posts on this blog, this is authentic 100%. I found it fun to write it from the alleged perspective of my date. I used his body language, context clues, and slow distance from me help write his perspective. I don't think I was far off because I haven't heard from him since and previously he had a 12 second response rate.Once upon a time...She was tall and fair, and had a far darker hair color than my ex, so that was good. She was pretty, funny, and found my jokes pretty hilarious, or at least put up a good front that she did. She was much taller in person and had a fuller figure than I expected. Not big, just not size 2 skinny-- definitely would give a guy something to hold onto. She was from Texas and knew nothing of the west, which I'd come. I educated her as she proved that she could certainly hold her liquor. That's always something I look for in a woman. So, she was a cheap date at the fancy restaurant I chose, because she got full after the fries. I'll be honest, I actually did too. That's what happens when you put beef and au jus on french fries. Once I received my sandwich, I actually had to go drop it off in my car since, I was pretty stuffed myself. She dropped off her umbrella and we continued to peruse the city. At the wine bar is when both of our alcohol started to kick in. We revealed things about our past and I could tell she wasn't in it just for sex. Especially when one of my tells with something I could tell she was uncomfortable with. I guess I can rule threesomes off the list... Might need to go with another girl for that... But the date continued on . On the way to a brewery, she stopped short and made a short kind of a shriek. What was that? I thought. I turned around to find her standing on her left foot while tending to a broken wedge. The right wedge had completely flipped its lid and removed itself from the sandal part still attached to her foot. Oh my gosh. The shit only happens to me. I can't just leave her... She laughed and asked if I had a switchblade or a pocket knife. A switchblade? What kind of hood shit is she used to in Dallas? I had one in my car but she wasn't pleased at the response. I offered my keys, like a dumbass, and then found myself putting my key in her ignition. Okay just kidding. I put my key in the bottom wedge of her left foot. This is not how I thought the evening would play out. This Cinderella never made it to the ball....After successfully ripping the other wedge off, she played it off, cool as a cucumber. I couldn't just leave after that... what guy is that heartless? And she already alluded to the fact that she had a negative connotation of military men... So I figured I'd see where the night leads me. She disposed of the bottom half of her shoes and we made it to a brewery. She kept joking that I would never talk to her again... She's a pretty good judge of character, but I certainly wouldn't want to be walking in her shoes.... After another beer and a friendly game of shuffleboard, I swooped in for the kill. For the game, not for her. I was still undecided how I felt about her. Any other girl would've been distraught to have lost one of her fav pair of stilettos or whatever, yet she certainly rolled with the punches. Also, she was closer to my height now, which made her less intimidating. She seemed to be enjoying herself, but she strikes me as the type of person that is genuinely happy with things, which is a pretty okay quality. The stakes for our shuffle board game was low. I let her pick, hoping she would be a little more creative than a sandwich... hubba hubba. Then again, she had made it pretty clear via texting she was not interested in guys that made things all about sex. Certainly took some of the fun out for me. As time drew closer to the bewitching hour, we ended up making out in her car, but she kept pulling away. I looked over towards my parked car, during one of her hesitations, and saw another couple making out ON MY TRUNK. On my car! This kind of stuff always happens to me. We both laughed about it and she kept prompting me to click the unlock button on my keypad. So, I unlocked it and the couple was unfazed. I could tell I wasn't going to get anywhere with shoeless, so, I exited stage right. I texted her once, as to not seem to be ghosting her for her wardrobe malfunction, but then let it go. Hey, if the shoe doesn't fit....."This isn't Disney where animals will sing you through the dessert. Piece the pictures together and figure it out yourself.... That's what I should've told Miss WISHES-she-were-Cinderella" |
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
April 2022
Categories
All
|