You would think by now I would learn not to go on double dates... So we were out of town because my best friend was meeting this guy she's been talking to you for a couple months, for the first time. He had an attractive friend, whom his friend informed me that was bi. The guy was funny and enjoyed the simple things in life like Disney, movie quotes at every turn, and long stories that turn into 14 other stories, so we hit it off right away. It was very friendly not flirty so. I thought nothing of it. Later that night was when he ignited his charm: buying me drinks, complimenting me, even his body language was interested. His friend pulled me aside and said, "yeah we haven't talked but he definitely is feeling you." So, we got back to the hotel, my best friend and her guy and me and friend and the friend and I, well, started making out. He put his hand on my face but didn't really touch me other than that; not grazing my hair, stroking my back, or even smacking my ass. Things developed, selfishly for him and the very moment his level of satisfaction was reached, he turned his back to me. I laid there motionless. My mouth was probably dropped it open but I don't think I was able to feel anything. Just numbness. Disbelief. Astonishment. I finally able to muddle together some syllables which formed the word: really? He paid me an excuse about exhaustion, still not daring to look at me. Still in shock, I was able to muster up a few more syllables. "I guess so," I scoff. I lay there completely used up like a disposable camera, not even worth developing. I wasn't hurt because I wanted to build something with him. I wasn't hurt because I wanted to get my jollies off. I was hurt because for the first time in my 27 years of life, I was treated like an inanimate object squeezed of it's use, then quickly cast aside. He wouldn't touch me. He wouldn't look at me. A stale wind of remorse traveled through the room. I grabbed my remaining dignity, my room key, my journal my best friend sent me, and a felt tip pen and dashed down the hotel hallway to seek refuge. I sought refuge in a cold seven-story window. I didn't cry, I didn't scream, I bled. I bled words with rhythm and purpose; sharp words of which tension is felt instantly upon grazing them. Not words of haste but words of fact that stir up feelings of outrage. I guess at end of the day, or at 4:18 in the morning in this specific case, my words are all I have. These words are not to be wasted on those that prove unworthy, but utilized for healing and strength for the person enduring what they are enduring, feeling, seeing. I returned to the room I paid for forty-five minutes later. He turned over and muttered, "are you okay?" Solely because I am a woman and have had dress rehearsals upon dress rehearsals of being able to tell a person "I'm fine" in the most ordinary way imaginable, I uttered those words. He returned to his hibernation state and I let sleep overcome me. When we woke, he was holding my hand. I could have stabbed it to the nightstand with a box-cutter. I looked at him and he said, "oh, sorry," pulling his hand to safety. I said something dripping with bitterness and sarcasm to which he replied, "fuck you." 1. No man, or woman, or thing should EVER curse AT another person. It's disrespectful in every way imaginable and actually immature-- expand your vocabulary, moron. Read a book or something! 2. In no form or fashion should I be the recipient of ANY hostility from him. How is that warranted when he got everything at someone else's expense? 3. I will stand up for myself, as every person should; at the end of the day, you're the ONLY always looking out for YOUR best interest. 4. My reply painted the Grinch's smile, after arriving at the realization that he could stop Christmas from coming and steal it himself, on my face. Two words: "you wouldn't." The utter joy this brought me is unimaginable. He conveniently ignored it and paid another excuse, this time to the room, and left. My best friend gushed about their great night and pried about mine. I tried to resist, out of respect for his friend but this girl could get me to scale a building eating cheerios wearing a flamingo suit. I gave the Sparknotes version to which, ALL THAT HIS FRIEND SAID WAS: Yeah... I think he's just into dudes and the bi thing is a cover. Well Stephanie... now that you've hooked up with a gay guy, you've done it all! Shit, I can't even-- I just-- Wow. It would explain why he wouldn't touch me but... shit. So, I've learned several valuable lessons in this story:
Since this date story was so UN-BOWL-IEVABLE, I made cookie bowls when I returned to my kitchen. After a long two connector flights and the realization that I was with a guy that was actually repulsed by me, making something from scratch was more than I could handle. I grabbed my emergency roll of chocolate chip cookie dough out the fridge and rolled it out onto a lightly floured surface. I sprayed the bottom of a muffin tin with Pam (she's bi too... you've been warned) and preheated the oven to 350. As thin as possible, I ensured the dough was rolled and used the rim of a draft glass to make cookie cutter circles across the plain of my dough. Carefully arrange each cookie over the cylinder of each muffin compartment. Remember, this tin is UPSIDE DOWN just like your last double date EVER. Remove any excess dough because it will spread into a cookie mess. You want each muffin compartment just barley covered. Bake for 8 minutes, no longer than 12. Then, "get yourself some ribs and some ice cream cause you have been dumped." Just kidding on the ribs, he wouldn't touch you, much less dump you. Once cookie bowl is cooled, carefully pop off of muffin tin and fill with one small scoop of desired flavor of ice cream. Mine is something from Ben and Jerry. Oh. My. Gosh. Are they gay? Is Ben and Jerry a couple and there's no room for Stephanie to win the heart of one of the ice cream elite? Gosh... and you wonder why I have a lifetime subscription to Trust Issues USA.
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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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