This is the LAST time this guy will make an appearance on the blog. It’s my own fault for allowing him to weasel his way back in. He always had a way of reaching out to me when I was at an all time low… no, not the punk rock band but I do love them #allofalexbaby.
He used flirty emojis and my obsession with water against me, coaxing me into picking me up on the pier 5 minutes from my house on his Bayliner with a fully loaded Yamaha and an empty ice chest. A 12-pack in hand, he helped me step on his boat and pulled me close to his surfer-chiseled body. Not quite a sun-kissed god, but my body will never be bikini-body ready; apparently, beer and brownies aren’t a suiting diet for a toned tummy. He didn’t mind my love handles and couldn’t resist my lips (his words not mine… not being pompous, I swear ;). He had a bad case of absent filter syndrome, previously diagnosed as foot-in-mouth-disease. Example? I have plenty. “Why aren’t you wearing yoga pants? That’s when your ass looks best.” “Fuck, I love your ass… oh, yeah, you have a pretty face too.” “Do you wax, because you kind of have a light mustache.” “I can’t stay tonight because my dog misses me.” And the newest addition: *Scoffs while kissing my neck on an island where his boat was anchored* “You know you have to fuck me since I took you on my boat.” I. Don’t. Owe. You. Anything. My time is valuable and I don’t give all of my body to someone who isn’t going to cherish it. Well, if that wasn’t an awkward ride home. If eyes could pierce skin, he would be the perfect cashier at Hot Topic, with holes for gages, industrial bars, rings, and studs. Trying to pass it off as a joke, I ignored his pleads while considering swimming back to the pier. Not willing to forfeit the 1300 pictures from my June and May travel adventures alone and unfinished poems in my phone notepad, I bit my tongue and steamed at the bow of the boat. I received a text from him with another shallow jeer about my body and feelings I evoked in him (one vicinity in particular) to which I set him straight. He just replied “Sorry, ok” to my declaration that I will not be joining him on the boat anymore. There were some other choice words but, I’m already over it. Thank God we weren’t boating in his shallow ocean, we would’ve been marooned. His completed recipe is at the bottom of the ocean with the blue hope diamond.
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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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