Location: Hotlanta |
Yes, that is a hand-carved illustration of his heart rate the night we met. Hardly two weeks after meeting me. Every girl I've talked to about it, to ensure I wasn't just being a frozen tundra, reassured me that they would have dropped him like it was hot if they received something so.... intimate? before seriously dating that person for at least a year. A few girls that participated in my impromptu poll, said even a year is too soon if eva for something like that. |
One thing I noted in post number 1 of this series was that he downloaded Snapchat for the sole reason that I thoroughly enjoyed it and frequently use it. This should have been a warning sign. The last guy that downloaded Snapchat for the exact same reason used it against me; the time and nature of my posts were instrumental in tracking my whereabouts and dispelling my excuses for "not being on my phone."
A couple days after the wood gift he dropped off briefly after calling to see if he could drop by, I went out on another local's impromptu brewery tour and posted a few snaps portraying the cool places or beers. Ever since I visited Michigan to visit my long-term ex in 2015, I've been in LOVE with craft beers and breweries. While enjoying the drinks and snapping moments from this particular night in Pensacola, I didn't know I was opening the door for a drop-in visitor.
Mr. Woodstock told me the very next morning that he almost came out to the breweries I was at, but decided he didn't want to intrude on my plans. WHAT!? Who does that? Drive-by-shootings aren't just hazardous in the hood!
"Hi, nice to meet you! Is this your girlfriend?" His friend stated.
Mr. Woodstock responded, "well ye--"
"No," I said more curtly than I intended.
This drunk girl, moments later broke into laughter and pulled my best friend and I aside after him and I shared a kiss. "Is that your first kiss? First date?" She blurted.
My eyes met hers and I could only gather, "Umm.... No."
My best friend rolled her eyes and the drunk girl had her answer. She cackled all the way home....err back to her boyfriend.
...
I got sick later that night and he offered to come lay by me. I reminded him, my best friend and I were sharing a one bedroom, hence one bed. Then he offered to just sleep on the floor and play with my hair or pat my back to console me.
Without hesitation, I declined.
The next day, Easter morning, I went to brunch with my best friend and posted this on Snapchat. There's no time stamp or location stamp, but if you look closer, the drinks we're holding disclosed our location since they're very discernible glasses.
Mr. Woodstock, and 68 of my other followers viewed it.
Then, he showed up.
Although it could totally be a coincidence he showed up at the same bar we were having brunch after admitting he almost showed up to my brewery tour, this was the last straw.
Presently, I'm in an exit clause phase. There always has to be a visible exit-- an out. In this interaction, I no longer see that as a viable option. I'm currently in a sales position which has reasonable turnover rate, am in a month-to-month lease, and a mattress is my sole piece of furniture; I'm not looking to be contained. If need be, I can tetris what I can in my little, bitty Honda and drive off into the sunset. I'm not saying I will.... but the option is there.
Mr. Woodstock, on the other hand, is on an accelerated road towards something I'm presently not able to give him.... peace out, girlscout.
This somewhat of a golden rule for liquor licensed establishments, smacked me in the face last night when my best friend’s date offered to buy my drink. I was surprised and chalked it up to him trying to schmooze the best friend for extra brownie points. Well, I do enjoy me a good brownie, so I accepted humbly and thankfully.
The first and second drinks were placed on the bar for us three amigos (her date standing between us). I was grateful, she teased, “you didn’t have to do that” and with a smile, she kissed him both times.
The third drink was where my suspicion was aroused. Our position had changed to a different room of the bar creatively called “The Boom-Boom Room.” Foreshadowing? Gosh, I hope not.
He returned to our huddle, adjacent to the dance floor and the stage with only two drinks. I shrugged to myself, well, it was fun while it lasted. He entrusted her with a midnight liquid over ice cubes and then moved towards the space behind me to make it to the left side of my shoulder. Now positioned almost directly behind me, he handed the lighter drink with floating lime slices to me with his left, while concurrently placing his right hand on my left butt-cheek.
The cotton dress was a thin barrier between his long fingers and my ass. WOAH! Swatting his hand instantly, he nonchalantly returned it to my left hip, at the cusp of my waist. Looking to my best friend for help, I realized from her vantage point, she couldn’t see his guilty right hand. Smiling that he bought me another drink since, she more than most, is aware of my tight money situation, she was oblivious to my gaping jaw.
Maybe he’s drunk and that was an accident? I’m not one for public scenes, so I tried to write it off as I scooped his hand off my hip and took two subtle shuffles to the left (almost in unison with Ludicrous song blaring).
Smiling, I demanded we dance, as I grabbed the blonde’s hand across from me, rescuing myself from any rude looks I was bound to fire his way.
"Dude, he just grabbed my ass."
In a drunken snicker she slurred, “Shh, what? He didn’t — I’m su-sure it was an accident.”
Dismissing me, she finished dancing the Ying Yang Twins song with me, and returned to her date. Dancing alone, I tanked my drink and tried to enjoy myself.
Drink number four was being ordered at the bar when my best friend was able to inform me of their conversation addressing this “slip of his hand.”
"We talked about it and he didn’t mean too.”
"But--."
"Ladies,” her date smiled, holding again the same two opposing color drinks.
Feeling a little sheepish to accept this one, I looked up and I’ll be damned if he did not do it AGAIN. Same cheek. Same hand. Same attempt to just move it to my waist.
Putting the drink down, I maneuvered other drunk blockades to the dance floor without as much of a sound to the handsy date or the friend that wouldn’t believe me.
Furious that even after me being visibly uncomfortable the first time AND after his date addressed it, he still felt entitled to a little squeeze, I had to remove myself from the situation before I spit or screamed or flipped a table.
I’ve actually never done any of those in a public place but HEY, as a third wheel being groped may be an ideal time to start.
Agitated that:
1. Accepting drinks from a date that’s not mine still applies to the free drink clause
2. My best friend is dating a Dicksbury Dough Boy and discredited my claim after 13 years of friendship
3.Apparently, the price of touching my assets is 3 vodka sodas with flimsy limes
4.She still took him home
Moral of the story is… The drink clause always applies.
1 tube chocolate chip cookie dough
1 c. semisweet chocolate chips
2 tbsp. coconut oil (or butter)
1 part Baileys Irish Cream
1 part milk
- Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease the cups of a muffin tin, then fill each one with a small ball of cookie dough, pressing down gently to form a well. Bake for 10-12 minutes, or until the cookies are lightly golden.
- As soon as they’re out, use a shot glass to gently press down the center of each cookie. Set tray aside to cool for at least 20 minutes.
- In a microwave-safe bowl, combine chocolate chips and coconut oil. Microwave in 25-second intervals, stirring in between, until chips are fully melted. Line each cookie dough cup with the melted chocolate, place on a baking sheet or platter, and refrigerate until the chocolate has hardened, about 15 minutes.
- In a shaker filled with ice, combine equal parts Baileys Irish Cream and milk. Shake, then pour into each cookie shot glass.
No other way to be a runaway like runaway mountain....
We stretched our wings in Charleston and engaged in activities built for fools.
Dates beyond measure and conversation to match.
He asked me deep questions, like a therapist would
and laughed at my little quirks instead of running like the others.
He was never needy and never asked for much except my time.
He never pushed anything sexually or really engaged with me in that way too much at all. There's been a couple blog posts about him, he is the one referred to as Mr. Hard to Read.
He left in anger one Saturday night the last date we ever had,
and I left a voicemail for closure.
Weeks later, he stumbled upon not one, but two blog posts about him. He commented and then called. He displayed it as a misunderstanding and wish me the best. I could have salvaged it. I could have tried to get back in. But I didn't. I let it fall. I used it as my escape route. Running away instead of discussing things as an adult was much more preferable.
In the dating world, I'm always ready to cut ties. Scissors in hand, I look for ties to be cut. On the Rocks, Nothing on Paper, Scissors, BYE! I'm actually surprised how many ties have actually been been made. You would think after going on 200 different dates with different people, confidence wouldn't be an issue... but I was still perplexed with how I've not only confirmed date times and locations, but many of them have asked for seconds. And then many of them have turned out like this one where is a casual fling stretching upon months. I guess I feel each is stamped with a time mark. An expiration date, if you will, and if I don't beat that expiration date or ultimate freshness, they'll be left to spoil. I'll be left in the turmoil, spinning in some garbage disposal somewhere occasionally being doused with Febreze.
So, my protection from that is to rip off the packaging and enjoy the item before that date. Don't get me wrong, they enjoy me too... and God knows many have enjoyed me way before the expiration date and they have been the one to cut ties. So every time you look at a twisty tie, just think, that's awfully similar to some girl with a dating blog soaking up the freshness of a new connection until it's shelf life. So so many have done that to me before and that's the game that musician sing about, athletes engage in their social life, tabloids exploit the best of them from movie stars to TV posers.
It's as simple as just running away. You always have to have rational:
- I've had too much of this lately,
- I've developed a food allergy,
- I've OD'd which is what I did with potatoes as a young child and that's why now I can only manage to eat french fries and honey mustard.
- This food is impure and does not align with my beliefs.
- The ever-popular, this will make me fat
It's like the moms that see an item is gluten free but they fail to realize how many added sugars are in the item. Under the impression there's some healthy component, they accidentally mislead their children and whoever else they choose to share that with.
But I won't do that. Here I am and here we go sweet connoisseur
- 2 cups chocolate chips (divided into two 1 cup portions)
- 3/4 cup peanut butter (divided into three 1/4 cup portions)
- 1/4 cup butter
- 1 cup sugar
- 1/2 cup evaporated milk or heavy whipping cream (divided into two 1/4 cup portions)
- 7 oz tub marshmallow cream
- 1 tsp vanilla
- 1 1/2 cups salted peanuts
- 1 bag caramels (11 oz)
- Line a 9×13 pan (or quarter baking sheet like I used) with parchment paper. Make space in your freezer for the pan. You will be putting it in the freezer and pulling it back out several times.
- Bottom layer: Melt 1 cup chocolate chips + 1/4 cup peanut butter in the microwave for about 1 minute 30 seconds. Stir until smooth, then spreadon the bottom of the pan. Put pan in freezer.
- Nougat layer: Put butter, sugar and 1/4 cup evaporated milk in a small saucepan. Begin heating on medium heat, stirring occasionally as the butter melts and the mixture combines. Measure out 1/4 cup peanut butter and set aside. Continue heating mixture. When it comes to a boil, set timer for 6 minutes. After 6 minutes, remove from heat and stir in 1/4 cup peanut butter, the marshmallow cream and the vanilla. Stir until smooth. Take pan out of freezer and pour nougat on top of chilled chocolate. Smooth over chocolate until layer is even. Return to freezer.
- Caramel layer: Melt caramels + 1/4 cup evaporated milk in the microwave for 1 minute, adding 30 second increments as needed until caramels melt and mixture is combined.
- Take pan out of freezer. Measure out 1 1/2 cups salted peanuts and pour evenly over the top. Use clean hands to gently press peanuts into nougat. Pour caramel mixture over the top of the peanuts. Return pan to freezer.
- Top layer: Melt 1 cup chocolate chips + 1/4 cup peanut butter in the microwave for about 1 minute 30 seconds. Stir until smooth, then spread on top of the caramel, until even.
- Return pan to freezer for about 20 minutes. Cut into squares while bars are still cold. (this makes cutting nice and even!)
- Bars need to be stored in the fridge, but will still maintain their shape even when left out for a couple hours. They do get soft though, which is why I prefer to store them in the fridge.
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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