Location: HEB (Hurst, Euless, and Bedford, Texas)
Season: Fall 2016
This guy and I were destined in the stars to fail. And I don’t mean by 68 and there may be an opportunity for extra credit— no. I mean like a 40 and you even made flashcards. He was cute and established and dedicated. His greatest dedication was fitness. Now those of you that know me, know that I’m alllll about fitness; fitting this double bacon burger in my mouth! So when we asked me on a date to the gym, I should’ve known the inevitable. Yes, you heard (or read) me correctly. He took me for our first date and first time meeting EVER to his gym. I had to sign in as a guest, they took my picture, and I vaguely remember someone throwing confetti. That last part might have been because of too many bench presses but I mean, with a date like this, anything is possible.
So, I’m not sure if my endurance didn’t measure up or my ass didn’t meet his expectations in yoga pants but he did not talk to me again. But hey! At least I earned the Cajun food we ate after the gym. That’s one thing that’s so interesting to me… if he wasn’t feeling it, why did he take me out to eat after? Isn’t it easier to end the date early than to waste nonrenewable resources? I mean think of all the water we used at the gym and the Cajun restaurant— the earth will never get that back.
Walking to my car around 2 o’clock, I headed home, showered and got ready for a round of pool at a local dive bar.
HOLD UP STEPHANIE. A meet up or a date?
Guilty 😉
So I arrived at the bar and this rugged man with medium length dark hair, a tight shirt, and leather bracelets smiled directly through me and put down the pool stick. I felt the color leave my face as I managed to move my feet equivalent to a pace of a toddler taking steps for the first time. When I finally crossed the 3 mile stretch to where he was, he embraced me.
I’ve never experienced a pool game so enjoyable in my life. We flirted like seniors before prom. Buying me vodka soda after vodka soda, he always ensured the bartender mounted at least 3 limes on each, while he gulped down whiskey. I didn’t want to leave and I think the feeling was mutual but the clock struck 5:30 and I had to get to church before I turned into a sinning pumpkin. Well.. I was already half way there…
He held me close and then walked me to my car. My heart sighed when he didn’t kiss me. But, I knew I’d hear from him again.
Following church, I sped home to spruce up, and change into heels. You guessed it— date number 3.
This one was cocky and had been in and out of my texting life for months now. We met at the start of a string of restaurants. He rolled up in an red Audi and smirked as he saw me looking it over. As the self-elected umpire, I call that a foul ball. We went to two or three restaurants (I was quite taken by the drinks so the environment wasn’t really at the forefront of my mind). He was intelligent, but sure of it. He dressed well, but his shoes filled with pomp didn’t match.
He took me to the smallest club I’ve ever been. His motive was obvious here— to get his hands all over the drunk girl. Another foul ball. We starting dancing because the playlist was one my hips couldn’t resist. Two girls next to us made his night by screaming over the music, “y’all are so cute together; how long have y’all been together?” My eyes mimicked the rolling of my hips. His ego grew three sizes, which, quite frankly, I didn’t think there would be room.
Club ComplimentsHe started pounding drinks and persisted that I follow. I politely declined and he pushed. Trying to dance through it, I only lasted two more songs because his hands were wandering in places that could get a boy choked. Strike one.
With 11% battery on my phone, my fingers raced to the Uber app. “Will arrive in 5 minutes.” Guh, 5 minutes too long I thought as I smiled his direction and motioned to the door. Slightly confused, he followed me to the door like a lost puppy. Covered in the fleas of shallow intentions, he grabbed my ass as he followed me onto the sidewalk. Strike two. He didn’t make it to the street before being swatted for such a gesture. Following me to the parking lot, he attempted to corner me and imposed his wet lips on mine. Strike three. Regardless of my current level of intoxication, I peeled the drunk player off me like an old sticker. In just the nick of time, my Uber arrived and I slipped inside the back door and locked it. Safe.
Spoken like a true umpire of hearts,
”PLAY BALL!”
Fewf! Being a player is exhausting! Even though you know 2 of the 3 didn’t amount to anything past tonight, that was not a fact I knew yet so I had to try to keep their life stories straight in my head. The first one had two sisters and went to TCU no— the second one had the two sisters, and the third one had sisters and brothers? But where did he go to school? The second one is in school studying… blacksmithing? It would suit his choice of jewelry… Gosh, I need to get some sleep. I have a new suitor to meet tomorrow for lunch.
PLAY BALL!
Spicing up dating calls for a recipe to match!
- 4 teaspoons ground cinnamon
- 2 teaspoons ground ginger
- 1 teaspoon ground cloves
- 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
Mix before the stroke of midnight and sprinkle on the mediocre expectations of 21st Century Dating. Source
Dates and Cakes 