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.
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His guilt is always loaded
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 Since once again I'm on the move, I figured I could share a brief post of encouragement I've found in my travels....In no relation to Linkin Park, I found this beauty in Manhattan one night in September on the way to dinner.In a Dallas library, more specifically "the hood" aka Oak Cliff, I found this beautiful dedication. Find beauty everywhere, friends-- especially in singleness.Let's Pretend I didn't warn you this would happen; I'm no fortune teller, but I knew two poets were a spiraling water spout. I was astounded that you would spend your literary gift on me. I'd be lying if I said I thought you would spend romanticism, letters, and songs on me. Let's pretend I wasn't impressed by your willingness to venture to a new place for first date. Let's pretend we didn't have our own version of "You've Got Mail," but possibly better. And let's pretend I don't still have those emails, more than a year later. Let's pretend you didn't think you'd be the envy of all my friends with the weekly flowers. Let's pretend I wasn't as disappointed the hurricane spoiled our plans for our weekend getaway in Maine, complete with arrangements for my best friend to tag along. Let's pretend I didn't get giddy like a schoolgirl when family followed my advice to call the missed reservation office to get a partial refund, but you called me "your girlfriend" in your explanation to the customer service person. I wish I could pretend we actually went on that trip that I thought was bound to be one of the cutest first dates. Let's pretend your liquored words didn't chip away at your established chivalry and that you didn't try to pin alcoholism on me in the end. Let's pretend you didn't practically blacklist me from your publications, which you swore you'd never do "regardless of how it ends." Let's pretend you would have actually given me the space I asked for. My, things could have ended without spats via email, painful poetry, immaturity at its finest, and blame for why good guys are extinct. Let's pretend I wasn't invested in an artist I never met that painted me in lights I seldom allowed; that's why when your light turned to shadows of villains, I closed the book on my passion because you were my muse for months. Let's pretend it didn't revive demons most people couldn't imagine fighting; thanks for that. Let's pretend your increase in followers and pity didn't add to the list of "self-proclaimed victim's" in my life. Let's pretend I'm the loose, heart-breaking, materialist, alcoholic narcissist you swindled your fans into believing. Oh.... guess according to you, it's not pretend. Let's pretend the sting of your backlash didn't tarnish the honey of your courting; the poems, the songs, the serenades, and even your published works-- spoiled.Like your story, these contents are robust and complex. To get to the sweet stuff, the steps are intricate and requires precision.Beesting CakeFilling:
Dough:
Topping:
Instructions Filling:
Dough:
Topping:
A $45 parking ticket, rejection letter from Phase 4 of the job you were dreaming of, and news you'll have to be in "the boot" for 2 broken toes 2 more weeks couldn't contribute more to the notorious "Manic Monday." When the door AND windows seem closed.....Since my soul never quite seemed kindred to one place and I have a fervid fascination with strange places and foreign people, I believed being a Flight Attendant would be my calling. Our neighbors are strangers until we engage them. My best friend I sat next to on the bus and began cracking jokes with was once stranger. The most influential boss I've ever had was a stranger until she hired me. My ex's were all once strangers... and are yet strangers once again. I've never seen the word as negative, but almost as alluring. As a child, I earned the reputation of a leader and if no one followed, I slowed my momentum only slightly. I've never followed high fashion or most mainstream music. My own father called my strange this week since I can fit (strategically) everything I own into my silver Honda Civic. Strange is familiar and maybe, just maybe that's the reason I feel so comfortable in cities that have never heard my steps. This desperation for new environments, cultures, and entrees drove me to apply to 9 airlines to become a flight attendant. What better way to meet as many diverse people and see as many cities on someone else's dime than to be the eye in the sky!? Well, after I never heard from 6 of them, I waited eagerly for Delta, since I've passed 3 phases since August. Today, that journey ended for this application. Sure, I can try again next season... As "You Had a Bad Day" bounces in my cranium, I can't help but feel this rejection trumps any prior boy rejection I've had this year. Quite frankly... I can only recall two.... One was Mr. Makes me feel like a Barbie and the latter was flip a girl for her friend. Apparently flipping a coin just wouldn't do.... Now that we've had a good laugh and a bittersweet memory jogger (doesn't possess the endurance to be a runner), I smile from the encouraging texts from friends and sigh. Sigh and smile. Like a Cars' song, this was "just what I needed." <3
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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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