In case you’re wondering, there is no rhyme or reason to the sequence of these date stories. Some of them are from 8 months ago and some, 8 days ago. I don’t see the importance in disclosing them chronologically for three reasons. Reason number 1: some of these stories take longer than others for me to come to terms with and put them on paper. Once I put a guy’s story in ink, it’s like I’m letting a piece of him go, which ultimately, was a piece of me. Sounds pathetic, especially when most of them did not last past date 3 but hey— it’s me and I want to be real with you. Reason number 2: mystery is something enticing to the soul so I smile at the fact my reader or, if I’m lucky, readers (thanks mom– you're the real MVP) are never sure what’s around the corner. Emotions, emotions, wham— Dick pic! He was perfect and I wasn’t feeling it, then it was mutual, and then ever popular, he vanished. All of these are true in the rawest form, so why not release stories I feel at that time? Reason number 3: I never could quite grasp the fundamentals of statistics but, there is some probability that the guys I’m writing about are bound to, at one time or another, stumble upon an article all about them. Sporadically reporting my dates without matching the timeline, originally experienced, may throw off that possibility. But hey- I’ve never received hate mail and I’m sure it will make juicy blog content so… Bring. It. On. *Spirit Fingers* This story takes place at the very beginning of my relocation to the east coast. I had been on countless dates for drinks before leaving the Lone-star State so, this unique date invitation sparked my interest. This Canadian invited me to his house for a game night with his roommates, so I drove myself with an escape route in place. I would abstain from alcohol so in the case that I need to flee from the house/situation, I’d more than able. So instead of bringing a six pack, I baked a batch of easy cookies because mom raised me on the fundamental rule that you must never visit someone’s home empty handed. I can still hear her matter-of-fact tone like it was yesterday… oh wait, I think that was the last thing she said on our daily long-distance-phone-call just yesterday. So after a patron shot and making these [Mix a box of brownie mix, 1 egg, 1/3 C canola oil, and 1 C white chocolate chunks. Put spoonfuls on a baking sheet. Bake for 11 minutes on 350 degrees.] I showed up at the Canadian’s house for our first meeting. I wasn’t nervous in the slightest because I was born an extrovert, smiling at the doctors and all. When he opened the door, he was a lot taller and less attractive than his pictures portrayed, but I smiled and followed him inside. Handing him the cookies, I noticed his roommates were sitting around a table in the living room awkwardly. He informed me they were having a "meeting" before the games could begin (literally). While he got me a chair from the kitchen, I turned to his roommates and inquired of the type of group this was. Guilt swept over their round faces. One of them, the one with sunken eyes and greasy long hair, darted his eyes to a black messenger bag at his feet. Immediately alarmed I was about to be witness to a drug deal, I started sweating. A girl with dark eyes and dark hair stirred. “Uhh.. it’s an AA meeting,” she stammered. To say I was dumbfounded is a vast understatement. ANYONE that knows me knows this is the LAST place I would be. I pregamed for goodness sake! I’m sure my face said it all. I flashed a smile their way and proceeded to the kitchen in such a fashion that you would have believed something was on fire. He was about to be if I had matches on me. I knew I should've put some in my back pocket for a bonfire or if my "date" sneakily invited me to an AA meeting. Flabbergasted, I had choice words and no words all at once. Raising my eyebrows and crossing my arms I managed to whisper, "Yeah, this isn't my thing..." He grabbed my hand and drug me upstairs to his room. WHAT? He made small talk and my polite ass joined in his conversation! I didn't want his roommates to think I was judging them but I had to get the fuck out of there! I made up an excuse about a migraine, which I later got, thank you karma, and made my way downstairs. He followed me like a lost puppy, so I picked up speed. Practically speed walking through the room where the AA Meeting was central focus, I made it to the door. Like a frightened girl in a slasher film being preyed upon, I grabbed the handle with purpose and power and swung it open, not looking back. I could here him trying to entice me to come back next week. Once at my car, I turned around and was unpleasantly surprised with a kiss. I'm sorry- what PART of this "date" did he think went well?! And to top it off, he persisted to text me for two days after the fact. He made me spell it out: I am Stephanie and I am an alcoholic and not interested. Now I wish I would've brought the 6 pack instead of the cookies; watching them fight over it live wolves would've made this date worth it.
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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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