So, I think it's time for me to share a story that's a little less white lace. The setting of the story is a coffee shop outside of Dallas. A cute, innocent boy that was delving into Corinthians while concurrently working on a script enticed my intelligence interest; I clocked out of work early, grabbed my scripture journal, and met him for coffee. When I arrived, there was a young, slightly more attractive, blonde guy pouring over his notes in the corner. I greeted him and instantly he looked up. He stood to hug me and gloated about how much prettier was than in my pictures. Then I asked him what he was working on and he kind of glossed over it and said he wanted to learn more about me. It turned from a projected Bible study to a slightly intense date. Which I guess is fine. It's not like I met him on a Christian site or anything. Then he gushed about his past... It rushed down on me like a waterfall straight from the top of a cliff. He talked about his cocaine addiction, then transitioned to his sex addiction... guys confession seemed to flow on and on and on. He talked about how he had spent some time in jail and how he came to find Jesus.
It was a lot to take in but with my counseling background, my face portrayed peace and overall that I was unfazed. Then he leaned in and grabbed my hand and asked about how I came to love Jesus. I told her less risky, less elaborate, less dangerous story and then the conversation turned to a place I wasn't prepared for. "You seem like the type of girl that's four pairs for anything." An obvious challenge wrapped in a compliment. "Go on..." my body language coaxed. "I bet you have a swimsuit in your trunk. My house is right around the corner and it's a beautiful day to go swimming." My adventurous side over-powered my logical side. Revealing that I had a pair of swim shorts in my trunk was the exact fuel he needed. Pulling me by the arm, with his Bible under the other, he led me to the parking lot. Slightly fluttering but pathetically happy that such a hott guy was holding my hand, I traced his every move found myself at my trunk. I told him I didn't have a top to swim in and can you guess what he said? "Oh that's not a problem I won't be wearing a top either." Responding with sarcasm, I told him that would not be happening. Regardless, I still ended up in his truck and on the way to this mansion of a house. It had to be at least 5 bedrooms and the pool was stone with intricate designs to match the frame of the house. He rushed upstairs looking back over his shoulder, tempting me to follow. He said he was getting his swimsuit. I soaked in the beauty of the floor plan and antique furniture as I followed the route to his room. My head started to calculate that there's no way he gathered all of this furniture and could own all of this. My first thought was roommates but then my thoughts were interrupted with his hands on my waist. Startled from my thoughts in my own little world, I looked up into his blue eyes. "What are you doing," I said. "Did you find your suit?" His smirk covered his entire face and his body kind of quivered. "I'm so attracted to you." Okay sir, I thought loud enough that my eyes almost rolled all the way back. He continued with the charade and managed to pull me into his media room. In the dark room, he pulled me towards the DVD slot and rummaged for a disc. "I thought we were going swimming?" I questioned. "Well since you don't have a suit, I would pull you in, so it's probably best that we just watch a movie." I had plans later that night and could not afford to get soaked from head to toe so I took the bait. "Well I definitely don't have time for a whole movie." "Okay," he said as his hand graced my cheek. "Gosh you're so beautiful." A phrase that rolled off his tongue so easily, I knew this was part of the script. He kissed me and for some stupid reason, I kissed him back. Then he reared up; his body pressed on mine and his kisses turned fast and wet. Trying to slow him down, I put my hand on his chest, which was perfectly chiseled I might add. A few seconds passed and he loosened his grip. Looking into my eyes, he whispered, "I can't resist you." I'm telling you, this whole thing was scripted. My response was interrupted by a bellow from downstairs, "John! John come down here please." My body froze. In that instant I knew exactly the role of that voice and her next line. Adjusting his pants, he made his way to the stairs and flew down them. I meandered to the top of the stairs, sweating. "Who do you have up there?" The parental figure demanded. Peeking her head around his toned body, we made eye contact. "Hi," I said timidly, waving a nervous hand. "Who are you?" I could feel my face turn tomato red. I wanted nothing but to push myself down the stairs and then run out the front door with bruises and scrapes. That way, at least I would have an excuse to hit the door running. I didn't even have my car. It was still at the coffee shop where I thought this was a Bible study. The voice and body language to match, conveyed utter frustration. "Oh, I'm Stephanie." Unimpressed, she continued, "And what do you do Stephanie?" The interrogation started, I could feel it. I slowly made my way down the stairs as I answered her slew of questions. One of which was: how I met her 20 year old son. Feeling quite dizzy and betrayed and homesick all tied into one, "I-" "We met at the coffee shop mom; we were discussing my script because she's a writer too." Not removing her stare from me, she stood in silence. Judgmental silence. "Do you need help with the groceries?" he directed at her with the gentle tone... one she couldn't deny. "Yes." She pressed her scarlet lips together, removing her polished fingers from her left hip, she made her way to the kitchen. It was the most awkward "good deed" I've ever performed... if you could even call it that. I was an intruder in someone else's home- no, not to someone else- a minor. My head was reprimanding my absence of judgment as my body continued to bring in bags of groceries. "You have a lovely home," I muttered, forcing a smile. She didn't even acknowledge the statement. I looked to the liar whom offered me a half smile. I wanted to punch his pretty face. "Well, I really have to get back to my car to make my dinner plans." I didn't even look at a watch. I just had to get the fuck out of there. "Oh yeah, I'll take you." He said, smiling to his debutante-looking mother and proceeded through the garage. You damn right you'll take me; how the hell else am I supposed to get back to the coffee shop across six lanes of 1709? I screamed... within the walls of my mind. Once safely in the car, I let go of the breath I had been holding. Looking over at me he said, "Wow, I really like you." I'm sorry what?! You just humiliated me, lied to me, the list goes on- are you kidding me?! But of course, I didn't say any of that. Polite as can be, I smiled and said, "We'll see." Then he went on to say that he needed a woman like me to keep him from cheating and from hooking up with a bunch of girls. I was SO over this date, I almost rolled out of the moving car but, I didn't want to take that famous scene from Crazy Stupid Love. There's no way I could beat Steve Carell. I got to my car and could not have been happier! I certainly had a great story to tell my dinner plans that night! Oh yeah, he tried to bring me Starbucks on two separate occasions after this debacle of a date. It all started with the Bible...
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I know I started this as a dating blog, but it's so much more than that.
This post is about loss; a heartbreak not received during intimate relations of a boy and a girl pursuing love... this is a different kind of pain.I miss you.
Why’d you have to go? I don’t mean why’d you have to go like that or why was there urgency in your departure— I mean more along the lines of why aren’t you here? Why can we no longer exist together in the same space, breathing the same polluted and humid air? Why can’t I see you beyond a framed picture with tear stains on the glass? Why can’t I see you past the graphic image my mind created of how they found you? So I’ll get a tattoo, a brand of you that I summoned control. Because the inner brandings are too much— I can’t console. Can’t console myself, or my mother, or my friend because what I’m consoling is the circumstances to your end. The end is supposed to be happy; the end is supposed to evoke hope. But all I feel is emptiness and wincing memories of words you spoke. Half of this ode is rhymed and the other half is confessions of how I’ve been spinning my time. Spinning webs of denial and feeling deserted and spinning of why I’m left here without you. Apart is what we were never destined to be… I guess I never really grasped destiny, but then again, maybe it grasped you. Maybe it will never grasp me because loneliness has such a tight grasp. With all my ramblings and whispered ranting, I just want to punch into written word: I miss you, I wish you weren’t among the clouds and trees and birds, and I’m sorry for not being more to you when you were among the roads, streets, and homes. I love you and this semicolon, violin, and fleur de lis is for you— permanently, like the impression of your heart and everything you were. Still, there’s so much love. Hard Hat Not Required She found normal and she liked it that way. Some could call him boring, but he has no potholes in his roads, minimal curves, and absolutely no ruins requiring construction. He was durable and paved with a direct route to the city. She would never admit she was an "Uptown Girl" but she found herself humming the notorious Billy Joel tune. His road was well-lit and drive-able in all conditions; of course mother approved, even with her declining eyesight. The road had a bit of glimmer when the sun hit it just right, kind of like it was polished. The pavement never cracks, never floods in thunderstorms, and never houses festivals or parades. It doesn't offer a high speed limit and offers cops for additional monitoring. He's safe and will keep her heart rate steady; no map needed, because there's no chance she'll get lost. I think I'll take an alternate route... at all at all costs.I don't want safe; I want out of my mind, off the charts, out into the streets with no names and no curfews.
I want to frolic with my Chucks untied, with the October wind in my hair, revealing little peaks of turquoise. I want to strategize when to reach a heart that I'm pursuing-- calculate if the sun has risen in my setting, then the bars are closing in his. I want to road-hop and hitchhike and find my own best route. I wish to follow no map and no societal guide plotted out for a bachelor(ette) in their late twenties. I wish to defy safe, for safe only leads to complacency and that is what I fear most. The best time to hit on a guy is from the back seat of his car. More specifically, when he is driving you and your friend in an uncanny inebriated state home. Uber is a perfect platform for a date proposal. After texting him the entire next day, he asked me on a date to a quaint little town with a string of restaurants. Quite frankly, I did not remember the specifics of his appearance, because it was dark and I was in the back seat of his car... Not a scandalous as it sounds (insert whistle here). So essentially I was waiting for a blind date. Cars came and went of attractive and not-so attractive old not-so legal men, but none made eye contact with me. After waiting what felt like 6 months, a 5'8" slightly stout gentleman shuffled his way toward me. Painting on the smile mother taught me in etiquette, I greeted him properly.... With a high-five and sprint for the hills. Just kidding. So, we walked the Main Street of the quaint little town, and settled into the tequila bar for tacos and, you guessed it, tequila. He glowed with conversation about his ex-wife named Stephanie and the death of his grandmother throughout the course of our dinner. I may have interjected a couple times, but aside from that, it was his date. After finishing at this place, we walked around for dessert and then meandered to our cars. Well, I should say to his car. That's right, I walked him to his car and he kissed me awkwardly, got in, and drove away. Where the hell is chivalry? What planet is it acceptable for and a girl to walk a guy to his car and then she has to proceed to hers alone? I guess I'll never know because there was definitely not a second date. The moral of the story is: do not give your phone number to guys from the backseat of their car. Oh, and intoxication only makes it worse. I know, I know- that's breaking news. In the wrong lane for loveI'm not very fond of raisins-- then again, I'm not very fond of this guy. An absence of chivalry results in an absence of me. Since he is always on the road for Uber (this is his sole job), I found the title of this cake very suiting. Also, since it was abysmal, I found it very helpful that within the walls of it's sweetness is my dear friend, bourbon.
Alabama Lane Cake: 6 large egg yolks 1 cup milk 2 1/4 teaspoons vanilla 1 1/2 cups sugar 3 cups sifted cake flour 1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon baking powder 3/4 teaspoon salt 1 1/2 sticks of butter, softened Preheat oven to 350 degrees.In a mixing bowl, combine the egg yolks, 1/4 cup of the milk, and vanilla. In a separate mixing bowl, combine the dry ingredients and mix for 30 seconds on low speed. Add the softened butter and remaining milk. Mix on low speed until moist, and increase to medium speed (high for hand-held mixers) for 1 1/2 minutes. Scrape down the sides and begin adding the egg mixture gradually, in small batches, beating after each addition for 15-20 seconds. Pour the batter into two greased and floured 8” or 9” round cake pans until half full each. Bake for 30 minutes For the filling: 12 egg yolks 1 1/2 cups sugar 3/4 cup butter 1 1/2 cup raisins 1 1/2 cup chopped pecans 1 1/2 grated coconut 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract 1/2 cup bourbon Melt the butter. In a saucepan, stir together the egg yolks and the sugar until blended and then stir in the melted butter. Stir the mixture until thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. Stir in the pecans, raisins, and coconut, then the vanilla and bourbon. Allow the mixture to cool a little before filling the frosting the cake with the mixture. RESOURCE: http://journal.alabamachanin.com/2014/03/history-lane-drive-cake/ One thing I rather enjoy about online dating is people can freely express themselves with little restraint, little hesitation, and overwhelming relief. Friendships take time to build trust before disclosing skeletons stashed under your bed, behind your hanging clothes, or even arranged neatly in a chest, containing dark treasure. This dark treasure is something that, once revealed, creates a sense of trust. It also creates a connection unlike anything before. I talked to a guy who’s heart was broken, his story broke mine too
His fiance left him with all he had — nothing he could do The havoc she started and the lies she believed, drove her to something rash Devastating him in all he knew because he believed this love would last His heart was filled with her, with no signs of ominous clouds All happiness, finances, strength, and trust he devows It’s not a question of enough or why she walked away But at this point, what more did she need to stay? She doesn’t know the mark she made — worst part is she doesn’t care To fake stability and survive another day is his biggest prayer Bewildered that giving everything didn’t constitute an explanation With no way to identify the source: infidelity or inebriation Destroying something beautiful and never looking back Blocking him from all contact — shattered without tact Moving out and moving on from their plans outlined in lace Once a proposed happily ever after — now jarred from his place The promises she broke — but better yet the man Are supposedly a part of a bigger plan But how can beauty or better yet, anything rise from this rubble? It’s easier to believe substances and 80 proof will alleviate this trouble But he found a black ink pen could be his device Along with blue to describe his pain with spice He effortlessly bruised the paper like she bruised his soul With blows like depression and things he couldn’t control His mildly barbed words rendered everything a little tender On the battlefield of love, he was her elite contender Not fighting with but fighting for her His momentum slowed, words starting to blur Tears that fell like what they vowed But her power here, now not allowed She emptied him of enough — her future control ceases He’ll only wallow in the pain if his poetry pleases It’s been almost a year and his compass points due north Along with his poetry pronounced with radiance and girth He’s propelled by the past and God knows by his pain A book to publish; his life will never be the same So he’ll smile the next time he tells the story of the girl that escaped their forever For it’ll be in published prose — success and revenge together You're the sticky note on my wall Holding on until you fall Watching the sun set and rise Soon be gone-- as surprise I Forget to Remember You, even on paper After Jack or Jose, you are just a chaser Neon lights or neon Square Either way I won't be there Just in time will weaken your Stick review my draft for my next pick A corner down but still in place Pretending you want to win this race A little wrinkled from me brushing past Not much longer your grip will last Window open, allowing the Autumn Breeze Floating from the wall, to his knees Face down alone on the tile Although he pursued me still a while It's only a matter of days you'll be swept Just merely another secret to be kept I think I found the problem. I've been chasing princes instead of knights. I don't mean princes as a Royalty and being deeply rooted in wealth. I don't mean princes as in stableman with their lives plotted out for them and their assets protected . I don't mean men so regimented I'm so powerful that they can wage war with the snap of their fingers. The prince that I'm relating to was 1 I created in my head. Of the following printers just recently now, they all have had hard past, and their words have been trimmed in gold. They've made me feel like I'm the missing piece of their puzzle. On the intricate part missing from their Kingdom but furthermore, from there happily ever after. To promise me we can ride off into the sunset on their Noble steed. They promised me will keep me forever but I don't think any of them there forever. Not really. My exceeding sense of empathy brought me to the palace. Seeking the one on the throne because what I made him to be. The childhood from a Stephen King film, the job that is nothing short of stable, and the Illusions he paints well he snuggles up beside me of what that stability will look like if I'm a part of it. But I'm never really part of their picture. Their picture contains a shadow of a girl with long hair and much to offer them. I'm not saying I didn't have much to offer them, but in their eyes maybe it wasn't the same handful of things they needed. The only Royal part about the Fallen princesses was that they royally broke me. And that is the main quality that makes them a prince. They use their power for their own self righteous reasons. It's possible that not all four of them acted this way in narcissistic lust , but they all about the same feeling. I was not built of Princess material and I should be discarded quickly and quietly.
Easy to forget someone you never truly cared about. It's easy to discard some materialistic Fry's that is bound to be outdated and out-shined who's next season Seasons debut. As leaves fall, a new lady-in-waiting Sloat on the ground leaves lighter than me. As winter freezes, a new warrants dances before the prince's eyes. A strong wind of a sweeter perfume is sprung on the prince during a prestigious ceremony. The season that I was in what short and hardly worth discussing at his fencing practice jokes and Jabs are just at the end of the day to him. Prince's are notorious for they're polished physical appearance and their stature of Grace. Although these four possessed the confidence of such stature, their physical attributes or vastly influenced by the perspective of the princess trying to get to know them. Trying to see the beauty of something beneath the castle walls and it's mascot... The luxury of stability not luxurious at all. It's simply that she wanted to build a life with a girl and in a moment, thought that she was you. He quickly dismissed such a foolish. But catch you around the castle in case the weather of the weeks to follow kept new Beauties away. The first was lavish in his travels and the most beautiful that she seen. He floated above the commoners and seem to have a true twinkle for you me. After influence of some friends, I severed what things were and although he seemed to linger we could never get quiet back. I quickly became something not worth his text or even acknowledge me in public. I felt a ghost ghost like in his corridor and quietly should myself out. The second was a sense of rebellion but only against myself. His lifestyle was puller to my morals and his, well I'm not sure that he had many. Although his job was stable is nothing suitable for a family. But he couldn't look past a day or two but the laughs or trimmed in gold. Knights are warriors, resilient even through sword wounds and defeats . There are no signs or maps to lead to a knight. You have to find them in action because although their armor will hit the Moonlight or sun just right, causing it to Green, so step aside and the external shine will be lost. I remember when I helplessly sobbed in your arms that February night. You physically were turned off and away from me. Rejecting me in my weakness, you were utterly disgusted with my vulnerability. you etched my emptiness into hallowness.
Such a delicate scene with such a destructive deposition. You offered the counter to comfort. Abandoning my emotions, you disarrayed me desolate. I cowered in the corner and journaled until sleep overcast my agony. To no avail, you were inconvenienced by the light but I had to illuminate a lamp when you offered none. You only cast your shadow on me. Belittled and bewildered that I fell for the antagonist, he touched me. Unreasonably desperate for his touch, I summoned his grasp. Elevated to be not quite caressed but at least held, I pushed my remnants of trust. He ruthlessly crushed my remainders in his shellacked hands. Dusting off my gritty remnants, he made one final blow and I was dispersed among the air particles like glitter... or more realistically, dust. I am no more. No,I'm not referring to our current president, though I could probably find some other parallels this guy I almost dated has..... but I won't get political, just literal.
Always, always go with your first instinct. This guy played me and we never even met. I "knew he was trouble when we walked in." If the dude bro pictures didn't tip it off, it was certainly his less than subtle lines. Everything out of his mouth or fresh off the press of his fingertips was stale, predictable, and almost insulting. Not insulting to my physical features, no no, he insured those were lavish as he poured the compliments over the sub-par conversation. The insulting parts wear directly aimed toward my intelligence that I wouldn't see through his scheme. We were supposed to have a date that he just couldn't wait but I didn't hear from him 24 hours before. I'm not a girl that just waits by the phone, dressed and powdered, just hoping he'll want to show me off. This is not the 90's with a curly corded home phone mounted to the wall with one answering machine and one way to check it. I'm out and about, chasing adventure sometimes with my cell,sometimes without. I was at a beach when he decided to grace me with his presence well... his texting presents that is. Then his interest was sparked because I wasn't revolving my world around him-- imagine that. So to the hours of conversation banter back and forth that I wish I could be reimbursed for, I'll just craft it into another blog post of another boy that fell by the wayside. Pick up lines aren't picking up anything but disdain from the recipientWhat would you rather have from me? A. A date at a nice restaurant and a movie? B. Meaningful intelligence conversations? C. Multiple orgasms? I don't have a lot of time I can be quick;) I like eating you out ***eating out Your fine :) and I'm my cuddling schedule is free Tuesday night, the school building shouldn't need me for too long soo, I could be yours Then might i also compliment the nose. Quite an attractive sniffer ya got there What do you wanna do besides me and drink? You look needy too. I could tell you're kinky from the pic with your tongue 👅 out You have an incredible confident sexiness which I think is a rarity in this world and would love to meet up sometime! Yes, these are all verbatim! The things people say while hiding behind a screen.... Let me get this straight:
People these days are atrocious. And I'm not going to be as naive to say it's just guys.. There's lots of guy on girl crime, girl on guy crime, and then it's a vicious cycle breaking hearts for sport. Like in sports, never underestimate your opponent. Some of the nerdiest, sweetest looking guys have been raunchy and atrocious. Look I'm not a 10; I've never pretended to be a 10 and never will be one. BUT there are definitely some guys that I have given a chance that would not necessarily classify as the cutest. . I never will understand but I'll keep writing and baking :) So to quote both my best friends' favorite band, |
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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