Throw Back to Fall 2016 when the dating bonanza all started..."Take down paradise and put up a parking lot" plays in the backgroundMr. Height to Cause Flight was a 6"2 goofy guy with a beard. Sweet, sensitive family oriented guy in search of a wedding date. He was one of my first matches that I turned into a meeting, while being on Plenty of Fish. I know what you've heard, but I met some real gripping guys on the dating site that's been around since yahoo chatrooms. #vintage #OG He took me on a walk-and-talk type date after early dinner in Southlake Towncenter. He seemed like such a genuine person and we had so much in common. A decent kisser and his height was certainly a plus. Mama always said find someone good to look up to. Come to think of it now... I don't think this is what she had in mind. We scheduled another date in the heart of Fort Worth at a cocktail bar on Magnolia. I have to admit... I double booked that particular Saturday. Plans for an after party would open the floor for two possibilities: if the date went well, he could meet my friends, but if it didn't, I could dance the night away with my girls. I take back-up plans and exit strategies seriously. THAT WAS WHEN I BEGAN STANDING UP TO GUYS. I'm not sure if it was more the fact that I hadn't received much attention from guys at this point in my 26 years of life or I just hadn't been involved with one's that I had to deem unworthy. Not that I'm putting myself above them but I'm building myself up by saying there's ways you don't deserve to be treated. It's easy to list Nicholas Sparks and Disney fairy tale expectations for how you wish to be treated but it seems a little dark to list things you simply won't tolerate. It wasn't easy or very empowering to say (in more than just words) that they blew their chance.... but, this was just the beginning. Spoiler alert: the date did not go well. I mean, this is datesandcakes afterall.... usually the bad dates are the ones that make for the best recipeThe irony here that I claimed this (back in 2017 when I reflected on this dating encounter at the tail-end of 2016) is when I started standing up to guys. What happened? Four years later and I'm still getting tread on. My, my, my. History does repeat itself. What "went down" was actually almost me. Jokes aside, I was not really feeling the date anymore. He continued with me to the next bar where I was supposed to meet my friends. He got himself a beer and slumped on a bar stool, while I made my way to the dance floor, the distance of two four-top tables away. He had a perfect view as I smiled back at him from my twerking stance with my bestie. Just kidding, I didn't know how to twerk at this point in my young life. One of the times I looked back at him, I got a clingy, yet creepy vibe from him. It wasn't quite a stalker creepy vibe, but more than a Halloween spooky vibe. My bestie beckoned over the music, "he gonna bounce or?" I never asked if she experienced the same discomfort, or if she was just reading my body language. I rolled my eyes in agreement, finished the Shakira song, and made my way, four strides to his table. I forget how I got him to his feet, but I politely tried to convey that this date was over. I walked him back to his car as a peaceful parting. When I went in for a hug before leaving, that was when he grabbed me and kissed me. His left arm wrapped around the top of my shoulder and his right arm strapped against my lower back, locking his hand on my hip. I pulled away where there was about a head space between us. His lips moved toward mine as I tried to pull free from the abrasive hug. His left arm slid to my forearm and held a tight grip. Trying not to panic, I shot him a look right before twisting my arm free. His right arm reached for my belt loop as my unsteady voice projected into the dimly lit parking garage, "Stt-top! Let go!" "What?" He coaxed. I lunged backward as I saw the eyes of a couple assessing the situation from a few yards away. I nearly jogged away from his car stammering, "what the FUCK" under my breath as I zipped across the garage and back to the sidewalk in front of the bar that my friends were awaiting my return. I was in disbelief. Utter disbelief that I just lived the beginning of a CSI episode, yet luckily made it out before they called in the investigators. I originally wrote this piece as a "Me Revolution" but, honestly, this was a survival story. Grant it, nothing happened, but I was genuinely afraid. I had shit to do in the morning and snatching would've really impeded with my plans. Humor is my coping mechanism for most incongruencies, but for cereal: no person should ever make you feel like that: unsafe, panic-stricken, and trapped. This was more about us both having alcohol in our system. This is a real risk of dating strangers. He called me a week after the incident befuddled why I hadn't returned his call. After explaining my side, he refuted my words as sharply as he had refuted my desire to stop kissing the week before. "You know what? I don't want to talk about this anymore. I didn't feel safe and I have to go," I spoke firmly and clearly. A smile crept across my face as I hit the end button and my screen dimmed. I exhaled. I was tired of "being polite" in uncomfortable situations. That call was the beginning of respecting and looking out for me. I had mastered dismissing the guy that put his social needs before me, and now for guy that puts his physical needs before me-- dismissed. This girl is a fighter💪 in more ways than one. I'm again, breathing heavily reliving this as I punch the ending of this encounter into my keyboard. My friends were there but there was nothing they could do. I was alone and he was the least likely (in my poor judgement of a call) to put me in a situation like that. I guess judging a book by its cover continues to teach its lessons... This dessert could only be paralleled to: Boxing BagelsIngredients
For the dough
The next morning: Remove the pans from the fridge and let sit at room temp for 1 hour.
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So, this Dates and Cakes' post will pick up the fork in the road and visit the places that plated the best love affairs. Food is an art that draws me in with the aroma, colors, and presentation. The first place that came to mind when thinking of food I fell in love with was actually the food in the Salt Lake City... I just returned from a solo trip there (yes, even during new spikes in our Carona-induced world.... Dos Equis gets no love). I know this sounds like a crazy confession, but they had Venezuelan food, true Mexican mole, and great sour beers that they made in house! What more could you ask for in a mountain town? Well... it's near a mountain (or two). Since I started in the states, it's only fair to mention the C'est si bon food that IS New Orleans; they probably have the best food in the country. How can I make such bold claims? Simple, I'm Cajun. San Francisco had great sourdough bread and baguettes. While we're here, I'll throw two more your way: Charleston has some great southern food and have revolutionized brunch. Then, Hillcountry and the metroplex in Texas has great BBQ, tacos, Tex-Mex, Mexican, and burgers.... "Put some south in your mouth" as the wise ones say... But how elementary of my palate to stay in the states for good eats? My heart fluttered with the flavors the central of Belize provided me. I loved the food in Belize because it's a humble country, so all the citizens I encountered were friendly and welcoming. Their food is phenomenal and they cook it right in front of you out on big pits. Sizzling meat Greece also had a really good food because they fry their cheese oh gosh! Belgium has good food too! When I was in Brussels and Brugges, I just ate my way through those cities. This pastry was something we stumbled upon while exploring Brussels by foot. It was a cream cheese tart with middle eastern influence (we were in an Arabian neighborhood/district kilometres outside city center).And obviously Rome has really really really really really good pasta. Like the homemade tortellini I could have eaten without the sauce but then he put hand-grinded pesto sauce and I seriously thought I was going to go into a food coma. Prague did not disappoint with their fairy tale cottages of sweets. Unfortunately, their staff's customer service was no fairy tale. Madrid has GREAT tapas and Bordeaux has incredible bread. Even from their grocery store like one croissant was like equivalent to $0.85 and I almost wept, it melted in my mouth. Two words: STREET MEAT. Where? Budapest and Brussels
"Put a fork in me, I'm done!"
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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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