I give you the animated world of Steph's dating in her premiere post of Dates and Cakes Blog.
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You stopped my world that 30th of November at Edmund's oast. Under the string lights with sour beers in our hands and something unfamiliar in the air. You infatuated me with your chivalry and intellect; your humor and your warm smile that radiated through your blue eyes didn't hurt either. Our Adventures continued to as we stroll through Charleston narrow streets in the rain, frequently reminding me I was beautiful, in case I didn't believe you the last time you told me. You inhaled my perspective on the world as you exhaled things that could crush you- should crush you, but haven't. You stood in confidence that you really do live a great life and you never miss an opportunity to exude appreciation.
You opened up to me like a motion detector door and felt he's in my presence. You led by example the peacefulness I should strive for. Your ice cube eyes begged me to abolish the worry, even if just for a moment in your presence. I wish I could have; we know I didn't. Although two seemingly different species of bird, we both flew. High from the ground with each other around, we paid little mind to our different size feathers, color of our fluff, and shape of our beak. Together, we touched clouds like that late afternoon at Tattooed Moose. I've never found a dive bar so romantic- so perfect. Oogling and oogling at each other like high school sweethearts, paying no mind to graduation or out-of-state college offers. Eyes locked, hands laced, and hearts intertwined. Day was perfect. The day you made me yours, the day we ignored the statistics, logistics, and fresh scars. That will always be one to remember. It's stitched into my feathers and it will soar with me till time is no longer traceable. You've affected me. You're Sensational passionate, unpredictable, hilarious, sensible, considerate, ambitious, indestructible, perspicacious, and altogether remarkable. I'm sorry I couldn't be what I agreed to be while nestled in your arms, diving into your tidal wave eyes. I'm resisting what I'm certain is a good thing. You are worth more and I know it will find you. This isn't goodbye. When the wind gusts, you can find me. We'll be flying and may share the same vantage point Terk says it best, Dates and Cakes OFFICIALLY has a vlog! Not only do you continue to receive outlandish but non-fiction dating stories from the bubbly, punny, and gutsy gypsy, BUT you get to see her live and in color with all her hand gestures, eye rolls, and cackles (at her own jokes) free of charge! This Youtube thing is certainly a learn-as-you-go kind of thing because although my year of birth classifies me as a Millennial..... technology isn't my go to. Actually, this blog started out as scribbles in journals. Yes, red margin, black lined journals; bounded with potential for venting, humor and self-actualization. I know presently, it's a trendy thing to say you're "an old soul" but... I still write friends letters or thank you notes by hand and write 90% of my poetry with a swift pen to paper motion. Okay fine-- sometimes I use thin markers because I want to really capture imagery in a certain piece.... but you get my jest. And I think spending time away from a screen gives you zest you may have been missing from your life (as a text notification blinks like grandma's blinker she was unaware has been clicking for 3 intersections now). So, you may have heard of "please excuse my dear aunt sally" in math for order of operations, but since I'm notorious for spicing or sugaring things up, I'm going to ask you to excuse your dear Steph for her poor editing skills. The videos may seem a little chop-suey.... because they are. I'm sure I'll get better if I just believe! But I'm striving to record each one as natural as possible so it enhances the genuine factor. This world is polluted with edited moments, faces, and perceptions, so I refuse to add to it. As always, these will continue to be about actual dates that happened to me or in the rare occasion, a friend shares a wild date. I know what you're thinking, "Steph could never pull off being a blonde." WELL YOU KNOW WHAT!?! You're right.
I thought I was being open-minded, but I was really being stupid. Purposely going for guys painfully out of my type did nothing but reinforce my type. Intellectuals are a must! I don't care if they have adventurous hobbies or tales of being deployed all over the green and blue globe. Attraction is a necessity I've been ignoring in the guys I've entertained dating. I don't mean entertained on day dreams while shooting whiskey at the bar, I mean guys I've actually poured effort into getting to know. I kept trying to push personality and be open-minded. It was if I was exploring creativity in seeking love in a town that feels rotten to me. But, then it hit me; I didn't know what I wanted. I was just picking up pebbles along the way to passing time. One pebble on a disk golf course, one at church, one at the cinema, one over cheese fries, and one in a pedicab. At the end of the day they all ended things with me. It left me dissatisfied either way. So I finally checked out of the app; like that book which under your bed, it was long overdue. Although I hope not to look back for at least a couple months or so, I still I had a few leads that exchange information with before deleting it.
You peeled open the pages with poise.
Turned one after the other with very little noise. Forward-thinking and forward flipping. Easy to crinkle when your grip was slipping. Second chapter, you creased the binding. Loyalty to the author — a scarce finding. Closing time: pages pressed like agendas. Colorful pages concealed and tossed on a credenza. Undressed expectations and critic-strung words. Loose leaf emotional intelligence took off like birds. The hardback harbors settled after settled dust. Caked with self-righteous, masking true disgust. Pride prevented prying open promised prints. Until seasons rolled back around, But then the narrative couldn’t be found. So you slapped the pages furiously past, In realization that not all good things last. Blank pages you’re disgruntled to fill, Best wishes finding another protagonist to spill. Is it sad that my dating experiences have corrupted my hope in new dates? What could I possibly mean by that? Well, this guy was super sweet and super fun to text and I started to second-guess thanks because he was so nice. And like so excited to talk to me and go on a date and said he really didn't get much attention on dating sites. I'm used to such an opposite attitude, that I almost started to question why he was so excited to go out with me. A) I'm not all that and a bag of potato chips B) why do other girls not want to go out with him C) did I just become a cynic? And D) Icouldn't wait to see how this played out Or am I gonna have to Bop him on the head?Not only is this boy another tall glass of water, but he had a cute hairstyle with like this kind of faux hawk thing going on and a tattoo sleeve! Are girls really this stupid? Like what the french toast? So we actually met at a pizza shop which, is not a little Slice of Heaven for me. I just feel like Americans are obsessed with pizza and consume it at such a rapid rate, that it holds very little wow factor for me. While walking through the line to pick our pizza toppings, he found out that pizza was not my favorite. "Stephanie, you are supposed to tell me these things." Our conversation bounced from Civil War history to traveling to Military Life to food. On the way out of the pizza shop to drop her leftovers in his fine car, Dodge Challenger (the only car that ever saved my good friend from college, her fiance, and my life in a bad car accident in '14) a lady by the door caught me stealing a glance of Mr. Shoots and Ladder's butt. No shame, because I felt like I was in candy land ;) Hey! Guys can stare at my chest, but I can't steal a glance of their assets? Bubble butt, check! After returning to his car, we returned to the mall to reminisce about dates in middle school when our parents would drop us off. Just kidding, I didn't have any dates in Middle School ;) #choirnerd4life I introduced him to the world of Dipsy Doozies. These are found in the one and only, "Great American Cookie." Patriotic as chip! Foreign to this sweet phenomena? It's where two cookies are perfectly united with a thin layer of frosting. This is the best kind of sandwich of all my life. Who needs turkey, lettuce, sliced tomato, this one roast beef, this one had none... So, once we received our cookies, I whipped out my credit card and handed it to the lady. He was so shocked that even hours later on my couch, he still brought it up. Yes, I did take him home, but not as bow chikka brown cow as you would think. Well anywhozer.... we were finishing our stroll through the mall when I caught glimpse of another guy I had been dating. Nervous as a pregnant nun in church, I barely dodged him. I don't think my date ever noticed.. Then again, he's a guy... He notice until the end of the date that I had blue in my hair. After the mall, we casually strolled through Best Buy where we fixated on a bin of movies. That's where we got the bright idea to go to either of our houses to watch one. I picked mine because it was closer and my best friend power cleaned upon receiving my texts of my arrival. Once we arrived, I put on "Push," which he'd never seen and I hadn't seen half a decade. He stretched his arm around me, but didn't touch me. It was positioned on top of the couch, just levitating over my shoulders. Shoot. I appreciated the respect and his patience... But I longed for physical touch and didn't want to climb the ladder. So, I did the most logical and mature thing, I ticked him to death. Then he held both my hands so I would desist. Mission accomplished. He got kind of weird when I invited him to go dancing with us later that night and left shortly after the movie. As he left, another guy in a luxury vehicle pulled up in front of our house. No, that was not my back-up date. It was my best friend's. The first luxury car came back to our house because he left his phone. Blushing the top color of a stop light, he said, "don't know how I forgot this." He made his way home and later texted me that he left his sunglasses. To be completely honest, I had no idea whose sunglasses they were because there may have been another gentleman suitor later that night (since the second was a rusty tool at the bottom of a shed) so, I wasn't going to text anyone until they texted me. Not trying to make a fool of myself or suggest that I have several male suitors coming to my beckon call to my quaint little home downtown. This sweet best kept secret is the icing on top.... or.... between.1 pound powdered sugar
1 tablespoon butter 1/2 cup shortening 2 tablespoons milk 2 tablespoons hot water 1/4 teaspoon salt 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
The traveler in me was indulged by this tall bottle of water. He was so skinny, I possibly could have broke him in half, but never gave the impression that I was too big for him. Which, if you've kept up with my Pensacola experience so far, you know that that's genuinely been a problem. It all started because he flirtily invited himself to a beach date that I had, through messaging in the app. Honest as a nun and with a habit of serial dating, I stated that he would have been intruding on a date. "Oh so I have competition," he fired back. His interest was instantly engaged. "Well, I'll have to Razzle Dazzle you." Rolling my eyes at such a wild proposal, I couldn't help but think of all the other letdowns and boys that just used words with no action. I'll be damned if this guy did not follow through. "Let's go somewhere," he pleaded. Don't threaten me with a good time! I listed off the cities in closest proximity of Pensacola and he practically yawned through text. "Okay," I said. Time to test this fool, I thought. "New Orleans is 3 hours and Atlanta is 5." "New Orleans," he replied and retrieved my phone number. After receiving some drunk texts and a few missed calls Friday night from Mr. Roadtrip Rascal, I assumed we wouldn't be making the venture. Saturday morning at 9 a.m., I texted him and said, "where you at? Are we doing this thing?" He must have shot out of bed, because I'll be damned if he didn't show up at my house in the next 20 minutes. Like the horse races, we were off! We joked about both of our friends hoping the other wasn't a Natural Born Killer. We talked about family, our common religion, our plans to get out of this town... I swear it was like a freaking country song. Then in Mobile, the one hour mark, we went into the tunnel and several cars on all sides of us began honking their horns. For no reason. But, then it seemed like it was playful. So he honked back a melody that required a an answer of two honks. We cackled and then made our way to Chipotle. Yeah, fun fact: Pensacola has absolutely no Chipotle's. WTF?! The city makes no sense. Anywho, we walked in and ordered; I tried to pay and he practically threw my credit card on the other side of the restaurant. Once we made our way to the parking lot, I thanked him excessively and he kissed me. Towering over me, he smiled and then he grabbed my car door. Then, when we stopped along the way for gas, again, I fought to pay the bill since he took his car and was taking me on this trip, but her refused, kissing me again. We rode the rest of the way to New Orleans with grins on our faces, his right hand nestled inside the beginning of my left thigh, just above my freckled kneecap. He booked us a Marriott room, just blocks athwart from the French Quarter, which was quite a treat for me, because anytime I stay in town, it's with family away from downtown. We explored like tourists and flirted like teenagers. Then, when the sun went down is when we really went out to play. We ate dinner off Bourbon St. at this delicious place and had Bloody Mary's since the vodka was marinating a picture of okra, celery, creole tomatoes, pearl onions, and I believe bell peppers. We picked up a buzz in a few tunes as we bar hopped to Frenchmen Street. The date was going well, really well. A sharp annoyance hit me when I made a comment about how we both were making Snapchat posts, yet neither one of us added the other as a friend. "Oh, well I only have family on my Snapchat." Okay.... I thought. Yet oh, I didn't believe him. All the posts he was making were of one drink, scenes of the street, and one plate. I noticed how careful he was do not capture the edge of my drink or plate. I've been there. According to my mom, I "invented sneaky" and this boy was being sneaky. When I returned from the bathroom at the alternative rock bar, I saw a young blonde video snapping him, which he quickly clicked away when I walked up. And I’m supposed to believe that’s family? I scoffed to myself. I understand he just met me, but don’t lie to me. I’m talking to other people too, but gosh. It bothered me like a charley-horse and a couple more vodka sodas brought it out of me. He brushed off that it was his buddy’s wife. Yet, his buddy obviously isn’t family either. I just don’t understand the point of lying. That’s fine that you don’t want to be my friend on Snapchat, but you did take me on a date to another state... So why is social media such a big deal? I played nice and continued on with the night. At one of the last bars we ventured to for our night on Frenchmen Street, while jamming to another live band, he went up to get us our 18th drink (kidding…kind of). While he was gone, a short, harmless tan-skinned Arabian approached me. Engaging in conversation about a country I’ve never been to, I smiled as we talked. Moments later, my date returned on a mission. “Do you think my wife’s hot?” Wait a minute, I thought to myself. I went from not being worthy to being on your Snapchat to your wife in a jealous show? Instantly I decided this was blog-worthy. Then my out-of-country friend said yes! I was dying and slightly flattered. In a strange way, I kind of need a man that’s a little tiny bit jealous. In a twisted way it makes me feel wanted. Then again, I’m a little jealous myself. I haven’t had an opportunity be jealous since I haven’t had anyone that’s mine in a while… with the right person will bring it out of me…in the most innocent of ways *adjusts halo.* When I really care about someone, I value their time and understand that other people find them attractive cuz obviously that’s one of the reasons I’m there… so hey! At least I knew homeboy found me attractive. Stephanie called him homeboy! That only means one thing..... skip.Homeboy (n): name for a guy that holds a temporary place in your life and will not amount to anything romantically. There are infinite reasons why he isn't "the one" and just "this one." He most likely will or has already thrown a cheap shot at your heart. Did I make it home?
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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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