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I was doing my bestie a favor by going on a double date with her guy's friend. She said he was smart and successful and really didn't want to go with her date alone. She wore me down and I agreed. All you need to know about this guy is... he made me cry. FIRST DATE AND HE MADE ME CRY DURING THE DATE. I don't cry easily; I'm sure girls say that all the time but I'm for cereal.
The conversation through the date's duration was painfully lame so I bought myself more and more drinks because he didn't offer ONE. So, naturally, by the end of the night, I was slightly sloshed. I don't remember all that he said but at one point in the night I explicitly remember him uttering, "You know why you're single..." Oh yes- he went there. Envision this: a girl that is dressed up, sitting across from a guy that, from her body language and his demeanor, you could tell enjoyment was not present while her friend is gallivanting with a cute executive two booths over. His voice crescendos as he leans over the table with furrowed eyebrows while the girl starts sobbing. Oh, all of this is happening 12:30 am on a Friday in downtown Fort Worth to paint a backdrop. The worst part of it all is I really fancied that restaurant and now I'd be too embarrassed to ever go back. Not to belittle the severity of an actual mugging, but in the metaphorical sense, I was mugged of smiles or any chance at a good time so I found it only suiting to make cake-in-a-mug– instantly disappointing. INGREDIENTS
So I didn't meet this guy on a dating app. He was older… like on the Brinks of a silver fox. We were trying (meaning me and my best friend) to be part of a boat club and he was the group leader. We met the first time over drinks with lots of laughter or whatever and the second time was just to “hang out.” He paid for everything and was kind of funny, so I was along for the ride. Then he got wine to come back to my house... A little fishy but, I have this guilt thing that guys often take advantage of. He came over got so lit that there's no way on God's green earth this boy could drive; he couldn't even maneuver a grocery cart at this point. So, to my dismay we allowed him to stay. We have a quite comfortable couch in the middle of our living room so he just lounged there.
I got ready for bed in my room, because it was like a Tuesday, and proceeded to the laundry room to dispose of my clothes in the dark. That’s when he stood up and posed as a blockade in front of my door. He reached out for me as I failed in my attempt to side-step him. “What are you doing,” I bellowed. “Shh,” he responded while trying to get a grip on my hips. I know this fool did not just shush me! I shoved with all my might and yelped, “No!” I slipped past him and slammed my door. I never locked a door so quickly in my life. I know, I know… I shouldn’t get myself into these situations but I couldn’t release him onto the road under his conditions. He left the next morning and here’s a cake to capture this experience. Get the Hell Out of My House Cake 1 C sugar 1 ½ C flour 2 t vanilla 1 stick butter 1 ¾ t baking powder 2 eggs ½ C milk Oven to 350 degrees while greasing and flouring a 9x9 inch pan. Multitasking is key here because efficiency is essential. In a medium bowl, clean bowl, blue bowl— just whatever is in most tangible, cream together the sugar and butter. Beat in the eggs, crack one in each hand if you can; I mean, if you get shell in the batter, that will make it less likely he will return for seconds. Then stir in the vanilla. Add flour and baking powder. No need to sift them because if you would have sifted through evening options for male attention, you’d be making truffles or anything else that takes precision and quality ingredients. Holy cow! Add the milk before he comes over to “help” which is just an excuse to get close enough to touch you. Pour batter into the prepared pan and bake for 30. This recipe is brought to you by Allrecipes with a Stephanie touch, naturally. This cake is best served ANYWHERE BUT HERE. People want to know why I put this all out here, Why I can’t make them stay is quite unclear. People want to know why I can’t just chalk it up to the game, Being sweet-talked, then let down, aren’t they all the same? But if they’re all the same, why begin again Push their agenda and leave, It’s only a matter of when. But aren’t we all riding a snowflake, uniquely designed; All created to float our path, all in a matter of time? But the navigation and acceleration is in the driver’s hands; Some of the direction is from God but freewill is man’s. So is it really fair to blame a new for what an old one did Although the scars and memories are two you cannot rid? The reason it’s significant to try and try again, Is because love is a tragedy, you get to “right” the end. So I’m sharing my dating defeats but not to my dismay Because I long to share my voice, I hast much to say. I may be old-fashioned and slightly ill-timed, But I know what I deserve and victory will be mine. Even if you’re overwhelmed with hopelessness or have reached final defeat, Because you’ve been dressed in empty words, promises, and deceit You’re not broken, unlovable, or isolated and alone— please, don’t think that for a minute. Your heart is unfathomably beautiful, in which someone would be privileged to be the tenant. So persevere with copious amounts of awkward first dates; soon, one will be your last. Then you’ll synchronize with a snowflake that shares a painful, yet different past. Together you’ll float and dazzle in the brisk blue sky Imperfectly unique, mutual love of a girl and a guy. http://vintagejunky.com/snowflakes_example1.jpg Names bring character and individuality. They allow you to decipher which Starbucks drink is yours in a crowded cafe or which phone number is yours on your best friend's speed dial. Names are a symbol of pride, tradition, and meaning, even if it's urban dictionary quality. AND (you might want to sit down for this next part) a name is a noun! I know, I know... riveting stuff.
A name is usually the first thing you learn about a person but not "Skip." We met at happy hour after messaging on the app for a couple weeks. We conversed for 2 hours and then I made a joke with his name and his eyes darted to the left. Instantly I said, "you don't remember my name, do you?" Nervous as a kid caught looking at their classmate's test, he slowly said, "Jennifer?" Wow. Not only did this fool not know my name, the most simple thing about me, but he picked a common name to hopefully increase his odds. Well... at least I got a beer out of it. Everything in life is what you make of it. A 17-year-old Honda Accord begging for body work and new paint is an eye sore to some, but with a tank of gas, high mileage oil, and a Tom Petty playlist, it’s a chariot for exploring the east coast. An egg white, cornstarch, light corn syrup, and powdered sugar sound like dusty ingredients in a tired pantry. But, add peppermint extract and then cover it in chocolate and you’ve made peppermint patties. A shallow dating app with obvious intentions from those on the other side of the screen can be transformed to a food tour of Charleston or bar crawl of Dallas. Take each interaction for what it’s worth, a guy swiping right solely based on appearance, with intentions before even meeting. Also, remember that you are just ONE of possibly hundreds of girls (or guys) he’s (or she’s) swiped right on. I’ve had one guy admit to me that he swipes right on EVERYONE so he has better odds. He didn’t pick you out of a crowded room or have always had a thing for his best friend’s sister, he was lonely and said, “why not?” on a free app.
This is all so bleak Steph, how am I to make any good out of this? Meeting new people, going to new places, and getting to tell the jokes all your friends know by heart but to this person, this is new material. Go bowling, strolling the beach, new restaurant you’ve been itching to try, or soaking up a beautiful day at a park you’ve been to a hundred times. Or… this one is kind of shallow… give your confidence a little boost to see that that many guys (or girls) are at least semi-intrigued by your brief profile. Soak up the compliments, enjoy the different environments, and even if it’s just for an hour at the corner bar, enjoy the attention, the ability to be you with no strings, and smile because you’re young and alive. Homemade Peppermint Patties
I don't love stereotypes but sometimes, you meet someone that evokes the response, "Oh, so "YOU'RE the reason that stereotype exists." This is about one of those people. This guy is a bartender. I love bartenders; they supply you with liquid courage all night long, can interpret your faint order shouted over live music, and they work into late hours of the night while everyone surrounding them is having fun. BUT bartenders also get paid to flirt, causing many of them to flirt with infidelity.
Mr. Square, AKA Mr. Fuck Boy, messaged me something witty and we were off. Our conversations were nothing of substance and usually strictly banter. His confidence was excessive, strutting around like the world owed him something. But, my best friend and I already happened to frequent the bar because it was walking distance from her apartment. One night after his shift, he came over and bluntly demanded, "So, what are you going to do to stand out from the others?" As if this wasn't repulsive enough, he winked. This trick winked at me after saying something as womanizing as that! That was the end of him. Oh, I didn't kill him... lol. I did kill this buttercream recipe though. No cake recipe here because Mr. Square has no foundation, no substance for the sugar he spreads. Beat unsalted (1stick), room temperature; I know a cold stick would match his heart but it wouldn't cream correctly. The frosting shouldn't be punished because his sweetness is artificial; add 4 cups of powdered and 2 teaspoons of vanilla extract. Continue beating and add 4 tablespoons of milk because his attitude towards women is utterly atrocious. |
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
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