All I ask is that you don't hurt me. But it's perfectly okay for you to break my heart within the first 24 hours of a trip you bought me to spend quality time with you.You're one my gut warned me about
When I was deterred about your approach Your promises casting self-doubt Noble steed pulling a coach Yet another to fantasize Meet your needs; tailored Clawed me as your cute prize Past loneliness, now cured My painted heart you raided With a true face masked The memories-- won't save it Masquerades: a thing of the past
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Anyone that has underestimated Steph or DatesandCakes is gravely mistaken-- including Steph herself. This girl is gonna have the force, even though I had NO clue "gravely mistaken" was a phrase from Star Wars.... I was really just emphasizing to any of my past flings or anyone else that seems to have their opinion of me in a bunch, that I'm worthy of the love I seek. That message is to me too <3 I've been back and forth with blogging and vlogging due to insecurities rooted in other's words but perpetuated by my own weakness. Well, thanks to my new blog friend, I'm taking a stand and publishing it! This datesandcakes recipe is for me! GASP I didn’t think you are sleeping w all these guys. Don’t worry about what others think, it is none of their business, and everyone has their own lenses for the world. You are making the best decisions for you and your life. I wonder what dessert that would be, one for you, a big heart for loving yourself so well and not settling out of fear, boredom, or hormones! I've been running this race of life in a unique pair of shoes that have more than "soul." I've prided myself on not checking (or climbing inside) the boxes society has built: |
Who the hell did I think I was? I know there's a movement right now about girls being able to play the field and take their emotions out of physical interactions, but I need to face the bass-buzzing, window-down-blaring music that I'm different. My emotional capacity is not that of your average bear. Oh, did I forgot to give you the earth-shattering conclusion of this crush? GHOSTED. |
This is how the world works: you gotta leave before you get left." - T Swizzle
So, something finally has to give.... "I'm sorry [enter names here], I'm cleaning out my closet." Call it spring cleaning for my soul!
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
Those that are supposed to offer unconditional concern often shoot betrayal from their fingertips as snares dangle from their earlobes. Such medieval imagery leaves little hope for complete strangers. How could a new face and new name combat such an evil expectation? It only takes one time to touch a hot element before thinking twice, given another chance.
But where does this leave you? Feeling with fear first, and then tiptoeing around life with the leftover emotions? What about feeling sand between your toes, hearing a baby's giggle, or seeing a puppy smile? You have to leave the tiptoeing for ballet and prance into opportunities outside of the studio.
It took me until I crossed Atlantic on Christmas Eve night to unfriend a combination of friends, acquaintances, and scrub-a-dubdubs that deemed less than worthy of my effort. Cleaning house is more than just a literal expression for the spring time. I unfriended 10 people and quite frankly, wish I would have done so sooner. A day will always consist of 24 hours (unless you're changing time zones of course, which in my Euro Trip #2, I did so 4 times). Don't. Waste. A. Minute.
I won't bore you with all ten, but here is one that we were quite friendly and it looked quite promising for us to go out, but then he stood me up. GHOST the night we were supposed to go out in downtown Dallas. It was already going to be an hour drive, but I felt he was worth that.... he obviously did not feel the same.
Although most girls (or guys in this situation) would have removed this person from their phone and their hope chest, I for some reason unbeknownst to me, did not. I must admit, I got a little snappy, but.... one couldn't argue I didn't fight fear to confront the inconsiderate slime.
In the brink of cuffing season, it seems many of the failed connections I thought I friend-zoned found their match. So there is a happy ending.... right?
Here's certainly one way I've seen guys trying to combat the friend-zone:
It didn't work for either of us because he stopped being the sweet guy I knew and started treating me like an object.... so, like 96% of the other ones currently swiping through tinder. Knowledge of each other's existence ceased as we know it.
So, in a way, friend zoning someone is a relationship (not solely intimate) death sentence.... so "zone" wisely.
And his words are ammunition
His pressure strikes my chords
like a trained musician
He afflicts more than pain
yet holds expectation
Of mercy-dipped compassion
--free of allegation
A mirage of infinity
miles in the distance
My true heartbreak harbors
in my stream of least resistance
Phone lines and e-mails topped with a laugh
The unlikely contender, but holding your own
Comfortable coops are meant to be flown from
Unsure whom holds greater insecurities
From sweet somethings to screams
Reflexes hyper-aware, you turn recluse
As not to suspect manipulation you'll use
The most beautiful thing you've ever seen
Spawns pure evil with thorns in between
Sharp seclusion pins feathers with wire
Inhale my smoke, because this girl is on fire
Let's Pretend:
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 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.
- 5 sheets low fat Graham crackers = 350
- 2 Tbsp butter = 200
- 8 ounces light cream cheese = 560
- 3/4 cup nonfat plain Greek yogurt = 105
- 1/4 cup granulated sugar = 194
- 2 Tbsp flour = 56
- 2 egg whites = 34
- 1 Tbsp lemon juice = 0
- 2 tsp vanilla extract = o
- 1/2 cup mini chocolate chips = 560
- Preheat oven to 350°F
- Not the crusty crab: Crush (like he crushed your esteem) the graham crackers into a f-i-n-e crumb. Mix with melted butter and press (like he pressed his lips on yours) into a lined 8X8 pan.
- Bake for 8 minutes and multitask like homeboy practically living a double life does with ease.
- He didn't even "fill" me up: Beat the softened cream cheese for 1 minute using a hand or stand mixer. Beat it, like he did. By "it" I mean: yogurt, sugar, egg whites, and flour until smooth.
- Add lemon juice and vanilla, and again, beat it, MJ. Fold in the chips.
- Spread filling on top of baked crust.
- Return to the sun or.... oven for 20 minutes.
- Then, when you think everything is going well, remove the pan and covering it with foil, preventing burning desire. Return to oven for 5 minutes.
- Allow to cool off from the rejection and chill because you're beautiful, regardless if you're "skinny enough."
Hollows out human of pain never anticipated
Bellowing in barefoot basement decisions
Outlining bones of dark premonition
Stale salute from windowless walls
Infinity in shambles, conclusion calls
Curtain closes lungs-- short of suffocation
Black lace to hang for smug celebration
Wings as the carpet and candles with no wicks
Remains swept away in hollowed red bricks
The crow gave up cawing as dusk won the fight
Embedded in another extinguishes light
Steph
While bartenders are cute and witty, they are also paid to flirt and increase their tips. That's why you have to sift through the compliments and take your heart out of it. GAHH is that easier said than done. I constantly have found myself taking one little thing a boy did for me or say to me and create this fantasy of a life this could be.
If a guy says he wants me, I believe he means for commitment.
If a guy says I look pretty, you would've thought no one had ever told me that a day in my life.
If we talk on the phone for 4 hours, I assume this is going to become part of a routine.
If we plan things in the future, I'll believe we'll actually have one.
And on and on and... oh yeah, ON!
And THAT'S why I am taking this single thing seriously. That's why I still write about dates I've been on and entertain new relationships only to a small degree. Trust is something so precious, that it's a rarity I seldom indulge.
Do people (mostly guys) call me selfish and a slut and a serial dater? YOU BETCHA. Am I going to give power to those empty words when I'm still discovering what is most beneficial for me? Who else is going to have your best interest at heart? Even for these guys, who is going to have THEIR best interest if they don't?
To quote Gigi, "I know I put myself out there too much, but at least that means I still care."
Keep caring, my friends.
Location: Hotlanta
Time: Summer 2019
The compass pointed due north for a last-minute trip to hotlanta. I brought the best friend, also hungry for adventure and relief from the Pensacola consistency... boys were certainly not on the menu. I was exploring a new job field by the horns and plunged at a cattle call interview for. Nothing to be excited about because, like cheer-leading, I was cut in the first round. Just kidding. Although I'm hella bubbly, cheer-leading has NEVER been on my radar. But it wouldn't be blog-worthy if the story ended there.
.....I was hoping Jake could give me a buddy discount since at the time, that was where I was employed. "Like a good neighbor," drink cuz I'm there!
I know-- doesn't have the same ring to it, but you could hear the jingle.
Upon pulling up to the parking booth, my eyes met a pair of dark cold brown eyes. Painfully handsome, even with the electric parking vest, he smiled as I inquired of overnight parking after asking about his day. His eyes never broke contact and I almost forgot to listen while sitting there stalled.
Then, his head talk to the left and looked over his shoulder. When he spun back around, he leaned in and his tone decreased to a whisper, "Listen, I'm going to give you this receipt for you to scan tomorrow. Do not lose this. I'll charge you for the day fee and just leave it here overnight."
My eyebrows lifted and I stumbled on the first couple words. "Are you sure? Okay!" As I relinquished my plastic card. "Wow thank you so much."
His smile made me forget my best friend was seated next to me.
I felt a tug at my right wrist for my best friend as we strutted past.
"Did you see that?" She said. "He totally was checking you out! Maybe that's why he risked his job to let us park for only $10 overnight."
"You think?" I glowed. "You think I should give him some brownies?"
Her squished face said it all. All right. I guess that would be stranger danger.
Before night fell, we befriended one of the young desk tenants at the Omni and she gave us not one, but two VIP free beverage coupons from their hotel bar on the second level. Like Black Eyed Peas sang in a monotonous manner, tonight's going to be a good good night.
"Whaaaaaaaa?" The Hipster one with the overalls bellowed. "That's so wild that y'all also live downtown in Pensacola! We're here for the Khalid concert and it was amazing. Now we're going to walk around the city."
"Oh my gosh! Us too! .....well except for the concert," my best friend uttered.
"We should exchange social media!" I exclaimed.
After some swipes and clicks of our phones, we walked the city with our new friends and tried to disguise the open container law we were breaking.
Laughing about things only tipsy girls could, we walked about sixteen blocks with our new friends.
Along the way, we we were astounded by the hospitality of this great city. I've never been in such a hustle-bustle place where the residents were so nice. In a car parallel to the sidewalk where we were currently frolicking on, an old Drake song blared from the speakers. When a young, rowdy group of friends in front of us started screaming along to the song, the passengers and driver turned up the music and jammed with them. We joined in on the block party and lapped up the city air.
Gosh I could see myself here, I thought.
Returning to our five star hotel with a breathtaking view, we proceeded to the sauna. Yes, you heard me. In which we continued our friendly streak, by making more friends in the steam box. No boys, no problem.
We ended the night with a nightcap and plush pillows. No, we did not engage in a pillow fight like every guy dreams of when he hears girls are having a sleepover. I did slam my best friend in the face one time with a pillow though. To which she sandwiched my face with two of them, naturally.
The next morning, we sighed as we packed up out of our luxury state and made advances toward our regular life. On our way to the parking lot, I felt a spurt of energy thinking of the attractive parking attendant.
"I'm going to offer him a brownie," I declared to my best friend.
"Don't you dare, you freak!"
I jabbed her side with my elbow lightly and threw my head back laughing.
The angels sang, the sky opened up, and my attractive parking attendant was indeed in his box.
Waving like a kindergartner after seeing their mom show up at the last day of school, I got his attention. His eyes relayed that he remembered me and a smile made me a little weak.
"You remember us?"
"Of course," he smiled.
Hesitating a little, I proceeded to walk to the car since he didn't really engage in conversation. I didn't know what else to say and for the first time in my life, found myself to be a little shy.
"Hey," he shouted. "Just come back through this way and I'll let you out."
"Perfect! Hey thanks again," I replied.
Once my best friends laughter subsided and we were both fastened in, she she pulled up near his booth and rolled down the window. I leaned over her lap and presented a container homemade brownies.
My best friend shook her head as I bellowed, "hey! I know this is kind of weird, but would you like a homemade brownie?"
"Shit yeah! I love brownies!"
"Awesome. You're not allergic to nuts, right? Definitely not trying to kill you."
My best friend burst into laughter.
He flashed his white teeth. "Nah. Thanks for this, you're fine."
"No, thank you," I smiled.
Knowing I would probably never see him again, I smiled again and waved as the window rolled up in we drove out of sight.
"You should give him your number," my best friend stated after her marathon of laughter.
"Ah," I replied. "Maybe it's better just to leave it as what if."
Before we made it all the way back to Pensacola, out two new friends from Pensacola unfriended us on Snapchat.
"What?!" My best friend put one hand on her hip while the other remained on the steering wheel. "I feel more rejected then I do when a guy does that!"
"We didn't even do anything," I chimed.
"Well then... I feel used." She said, as I turned my head back laughing-- no cackling.
"I think I could live there," I reported after recovering from my laughing spill.
"Girl don't get me started," my best friend smirked.
Since I never got his name, this recipe is named Stranger Danger Brownies
4 large eggs
1 cup sugar, sifted
1 cup brown sugar, sifted
8 ounces melted butter
1 1/4 cups cocoa, sifted
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/2 cup flour, sifted
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
- Preheat the oven to 300 degrees F. Butter and flour an 8-inch square pan.
- In a mixer fitted with a whisk attachment, beat the eggs at medium speed until fluffy and light yellow. Add both sugars. Add remaining ingredients, and mix to combine.
- Pour the batter into a greased and floured 8-inch square pan and bake for 45 minutes. Check for doneness with the tried-and-true toothpick method: a toothpick inserted into the center of the pan should come out clean. When it's done, remove to a rack to cool.
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
Author
Chef Steph cooking up trouble. If she can't find anything real, she bakes real good sweets. Chocolate really may mend a broken heart...
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