I've got you captured behind my lens
How long I'll keep you? Kinda depends Maybe till fruition, maybe till tomorrow For this moment here is one I will borrow Without permission or recompense Standing as proof of time well spent No currency exchange, no calculation Treasured so plainly with short abbreviation Your position on life at least for a second Collisions of conclusions is all that I beckon
0 Comments
This one isn't even about the momentary guy.... maybe it never has been.Another double trouble night ahead, we drank our Pedialyte as part of our pre-30's new regiment, and the the one club in Pensacola.It was a last-minute decision to make our way to the only club in Pensacola, but I was already dressed up with nowhere to go. I had just left a first date and wasn't ready to end my night yet. The best friend slipped something on and we emerged through the smoke into the piano bar. Okay, okay, there was no smoke. But there certainly was a little lingering fog due to excessive humidity. We scanned the room, ordered a drink, and then proceeded to the club room. After an hour of fighting for space with our elbows in a room full of people that didn't care that our hips really did not lie, we made it back to the piano bar. We stood by a table on the far left side where two gentlemen were seated. The one closest to me with the most voluminous brown hair I've ever seen on a man in real life, offered me his barstool. "No I'm fine standing," I replied. He insisted. The blonde best friend (mine) found a seat on my right and hey little mind to the curly haired friend in a button-up. Honestly.... I'm not even positive if he was wearing that but.... I certainly had my fill that night... so I did something right ;) The gentleman with voluminous hair directly to my left sparked up conversation, while the curly hair guy leaned in and listened. They were painfully military, like 96% of the men in this town and so I inquired of their origin. He glowed about Boston and hinted that they "weren't your typical massholes." To confirm that fact, he revealed possibly four sentences in, he was married. Joking with the other military guy, I inquired if he had a wife or husband. Flashing a white smile, he replied neither. The conversation continued with both gentlemen about the great city of Boston as the blonde best friend smiled and flashed her baby blue eyes. After a few rounds of drinks that the boys both sponsored, her hand was laced in the curly-haired's hand. Gosh I seen this movie, can we please have a different ending? Annoyed that, yet again, I was almost a pawn to get to the best friend: the gatekeeper even though I've outgrown my awkward phase. Okay.... we know that's a lie, but I embrace awkward and look pretty damn good with it, okay? If you can't embrace your quirks, what's the point? Bitter as the half of a lemon with seeds fully intact, I kept it together. It wasn't about the bachelor before us. It wasn't about her trying to win this guy over me. It wasn't even about seeking and receiving more male attention then me every single time. It was about constantly feeling in a competition and being picked last every single time. One of my biggest insecurities is still being the Duff. My reputation has been the gatekeeper for my hotter friends. I'd love to say that any guy that's given me a chance hasn't regretted it, but so many have hardly touch the surface with me before pursuing their curiosity of the blonde next door... Or in the next bedroom. I know comparing yourself to someone else is a sure way to take your self-esteem. Mine is so full of water come out as well be a collection of fish with some rocks It's like being picked the last for kickball, even as a rec league, it's still stings. And my father didn't even invent the toaster strudel....
So, instead of allowing my bitterness to overcome me again, I sipped the free Yuengling, the Boston conversation from a respectful, married man, and spent the night like it was a check on payday. It was to no surprise that her squeeze never texted her again. So, for this post, I held the dessert and bit the lemon with 2 shots of gin. 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
Ever been on a date that you thought went well and then when it amounts to nothing, you wonder if it was something you said or didn't do?This part two story leaves off at the tail end of me and Mr. Roadtrip Rascal's first date. He was shady about his social media and making me a part of his, yet he told a complete stranger that I was his wife and accused him of thinking I was hot. We both were quite intoxicated and made our way back in a pedicab to our hotel. Up 8 flights to the room, we got intimate in more than one way and the conversation took a turn. I became completely vulnerable and relinquished a secret and instantly started to push him away. His tone became serious as he turned my face towards his. “Stephanie, this is not up to you. You can’t make that decision of how I’m going to respond. I’m not going to get rid of you.” I fell asleep in his arms and then flirted our way out of New Orleans on Sunday morning. Then, his catch phrase for the ride home was, "it's not like I'm ever going to see you again." Okay... I thought. "Whatever you say jealousy." While Gin Blossoms played in my head, he spat, "You got all excited when I called you my wife." "No, I found it humorous that of all the things you could have called me (your: hoe, side piece, hinge date, girl named Friday, late for dinner....list goes on)." The conversation fizzled along with the connection. I stepped out of the car, and for the most part, out of his life. I'm not a fan of loose ends so, I tied things up to genuinely show my appreciation for such an adventurous first date. I'll be damned if that boy really did never see me again.His finale was a series of drunk calls the following Friday, beckoning me to "come cuddle." After hanging up on me and spatting some interesting words, I went to sleep for my 9am work shift the next day.
Of course he didn't recall any of it, but apologized profusely. I guess this interaction was short-lived, but a trip for the books....or posts. In the spirit of New Orleans' spell-boinding nature and thr fact that this boy spelled out my place in his immediate future, I found "Truth Serum" appropriate. 1 part Campari1 part sweet vermouth 1 part gin 1 drop angostura bitters ice directionsChill a martini glass. Combine the campari, vermouth, gin, and bitters in a shaker with ice. Shake well then strain into the chilled glass. Serve immediately. https://www.cdkitchen.com/recipes/recs/218/Truth-Serum81794.shtml 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?
|
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
|