An open letter to you.
I haven’t seen you in quite some time. I daresay that thoughts of me haven’t run across your mind since the last time we spoke. The crazy thing… and yes, I’m fully aware that it is crazy… is that thoughts of you jump to the forefront of my mind quite frequently.
I know you don’t miss me. Right?
I miss you. I think?
What is worse than the struggle of missing someone that doesn’t miss you back? The struggle of wondering if I miss you or if I miss the promise you stole from me. In our brief but lovely time together you made me believe in something. You had me falling for the fantasy. “Finally,” I thought, “here you are. I have been waiting on you.” I loved who we were together. I enjoyed being around you. I craved the way you made me feel. But could I get that from anybody or was it just you?
Just as fast as it was given to me it was snatched away. Why had you given me that miniscule bit of hope? Did you believe in it too? Or is that your game?
Are you in love with love? Did you really feel anything or do like to play pretend?
In the end, I guess I won’t ever know what the name of the game was. You ended it and that was that. I had no say I could only accept. I was happy when we were together. You said you were too. You said you were enamored by our connection. You squeezed my hand and pulled me close, amazed with our common interest.
But in the end you completely blindsided me.
Now I am here. Writing this silly little letter. I am annoyed with myself for writing it. But I guess I’d rather get it all out. (but who am I kidding. I will continue to think about it long after I abandon Starbucks for the comfort of home. I’ll lay in bed and think and think and think. #sick.)
I am sick of thinking about how perfect it all could’ve been.
I am sick of going through everything that happened and trying to pinpoint where I caused it to go wrong.
But most importantly, I am sick of believing that a second go at it, with you, is just around the corner.
“He will see the light… He will realize what we had… I know he’ll text me. It was too good.”
Again and again these words rattle through my mind.
However, enough time has passed for my rational mind to realize… too much time has passed.
There will be no text, no phone call, no knock on the door.
And that makes me really sad.
All thats left is to be haunted by thoughts of you until the next jerk comes along! #lovely
My parting words to you… the last thing I feel like there is left to say is…
Sweetheart, you could’ve had it so good.
P.S. You probably think this letter is about you. But babe, it aint.
The Date Who Ate Too Much Wasabi
* Warning this Date Story is ridiculous and is NSFW type stuff.*
I found this story saved on my computer from February. I thought this would be the perfect way to start this dating section and to basically describe what my dating life is like.
February 24, 2017
Have you ever been on a date and you have a kind of out of body experience and you think ‘How is this happening to me? How did I get here?’ If you haven’t – then you are one of the lucky ones! Go forth and prosper my romantically unchallenged friend! But, if you have… then you have truly lived and you definitely have the best stories!
I consider myself to be one those classified as, for lack of better terms, romantically challenged. Boys have come and gone in my life (I refer to them as boys - because ain’t no man gonna treat me as I’ve been treated) and all they have left behind are some amusing stories that I tell my friends over cheap booze and two-for-one appetizers!
One such tale is almost too good not to share and that is why I am here! Come readers, gather ‘round, and let me tell you the face-palming tale of ‘The Date Who Ate Too Much Wasabi!’
So, I guess it all started about 6 months ago… I met this guy on a speed dating night. (That’s a whole other story.) Anyways, so I met this guy at speed dating and we hit it off… as much as you can hit it off in 5 minute "date" intervals. He was cute enough, tall enough, and funny enough - I will refer to him as, Sash.
(Sash… short for sashimi…which will come into play soon.)
We went out a few times. They were nice dates - until he became a category 5 clinger.
By clinger, I mean this man was liking me too much too soon! I’m not about that life… or maybe I just wasn’t really feeling it! I mean, if Matthew Crawley* was clinging to me like that after only 3 dates I’d be all about it! So, I guess, I just wasn’t into him like he was into me. Those dates are some good stories too… But back to the story at hand.
*Notice the Downton Abbey reference…. Told you I was single.*
Consequently, once he became a clinger I broke it off. Tried to do it as gently as possible because I am a sweet Catholic girl who also believes in Karma and I don’t need that negativity in my life!
(October 2017 update. I have been a clinger too. Don't worry - I've got my karma handed to me.)
Fast forward a few months later… We go out again…
I was lonely, okay!!! Don’t look at me like that!
The first/fourth date was nice. I was kicking myself for not giving the guy a better chance. Second/fifth date was heated but he failed miserably in making me feel anything more than I was kissing some random dude. I need emotions! I need spark! He seemed to enjoy it… me I was feeling meh.
So, okay, I ended things again a second time! But this time he accused me of having a mental disorder, being a bitch, being cold… blah, blah, blah. What’s new?
Well, the mental disorder part… Never heard that one before.
I didn’t hear from him for months and I was perfectly content with that.
Then Valentine’s Day hit. Funnily enough, I wasn’t dreading it at all. I’ve been too busy with my career to worry about relationships.
I gotta do me before I can do you… know what I’m saying?
But I get a text message from Sash, “Happy Valentine’s Day!”
Like an idiot, I respond and long story short I have a belated Valentine’s Date for that coming Thursday night.
He let me pick the place! (Score!)
We agreed to meet at a local Japanese restaurant.
I was looking pretty bomb, if I do say so myself! My makeup was on point, my hair was bangin’, and I was feeling fabulous.
Got to make him suffer a little. You know how it is.
I walk up to the restaurant and he is waiting for me with a bouquet of flowers!
Now, hold your “aww’s…” They were 2 for $6 withered bouquets from Publix! #nope
Probably shouldn’t have brought them at all.
But like a true southern lady I accepted them graciously, tested the scent, and told him how lovely they were.
We enter the restaurant and are seated without much notable incident. Just his reluctance to be a man and go to the host stand and ask for a table. Come on, Sash... you can't be that shy!
We are seated and order our food. The waitress asked if we were good with chopsticks or if we needed forks. I’m generally pretty good and quite snobby when eating with my chopsticks…
Look at me! Much Cultured! With my chopsticks!
But, you know, sometimes eating rice is just better with a fork. #america
However, he said chopsticks were fine so I had to act like it was fine.
It was not fine.
I am a "gentile southern lady" and all… But don’t speak for me! Unless, you’re Prince Harry.
I got chicken teriyaki with vegetables! Yum!
I wanted sushi but the rolls are huge and not too lady like to eat in front of guy.
Again, I blame the southern mentality of what it means to be a lady on that little reluctance.
Feel free to lower your condescending arched eyebrow and let me live!
He orders sashimi. WITH. EXTRA. WASABI! Okay, I’ve heard of ordering extra ginger… my friend does it all the time. Which is good for me, because I take some…
(Maybe that’s why she orders extra. Hmmmm?)
Anyhow, extra wasabi. I didn’t think too much of it at the time, until the plate was brought out.
The wasabi glob was the size of my fist, I kid you not!
AN: I have an average sized fist for a girl of 5’4.
Sash takes a small plate, not a soy sauce dish, and fills it with soy sauce and then proceeds to dunk the full fist sized glob of wasabi into it.
I enjoy mixing my wasabi with soy sauce, this is a common practice amongst the human race, but the amount he mixed was just startling.
He mixed the soy sauce and the hot green paste with his chop sticks, while I stared in astonishment… I’m pretty sure my jaw was resting on the table right next to my miso soup.
Then taking his chopsticks he picks up a piece of salmon sashimi and dunks it in the green mixture (looked like guacamole - hold the tomatoes).
He pulls the, now green, cut of fish out of the mixture and stuffs the hold thing in his mouth.
What followed was almost hard to watch and I had to glance down at my plate a few times with how uncomfortable I felt.
Sash’s eyes rolled back into his head, he braced himself against the table, his arms stretched out, his back arched, knuckles white, eyelids fluttering, and his head twisting to the side! I was bugging out!
‘How did I get here?!? I’m in my favorite Japanese restaurant, the polish waitress has yet to bring my Pellegrino, my 2-for-6 flowers are resting on the seat next to me, and this guy is having a wasabi overdose attack before my very eyes!’
When he finished he made a little “woo” sound and wiped the tears from his face. All I could say was, “Man, you did that to yourself.”
Sash, looked me dead in the eye saying, “I wanted to do that to myself.”
He went on to try and explain the feeling to me and his best explanation was “it’s like having an orgasm through your nose.”*
*Sidenote: When telling my friend’s parents this story… Her dad came up with an ingenious response to that remark, , “…And that’s the only one you will have tonight.” If I had the ability to travel through time I would go back and rectify that missed opportunity immediately! *
So, there I am, completely done with this night, and this man is sitting across from me convulsing at the dinner table telling me that he is having an orgasm in his nose!
If that wasn’t enough to yell “Check Please!” he went on to tell me that he was surprised we hadn’t had sex yet. I must be “really good” at overcoming his manipulations.
I say WHAT???
Yes, he told me that he was good at manipulating women to get what he wants.
Then he told me he thinks on a hotness scale he’s a 7 or 8.
At the risk of sounding like Trump, by that point I was thinking ‘No, you’re a 2!'
Dear Reader, I was trying to find some kind of redeeming aspect to this date by this point, so I asked, rather sweetly. “What made you text me on Valentine’s day?”
Thinking, perhaps I would get a romantic reasoning or a plea to get me back, you know something out of a Harlequin Romance Novel that I could live on until I found Mr. Right.
Nope. His response, “To be honest, I copied and pasted that message to several other girls.”
'Happy Valentine’s Day, Magpie!!' I screamed to myself! 'Got yourself another winner!'
What is to follow are some of the one liners from the evening that stick out in my mind and my silent internal responses to said – one liners.
“I’ve been on 4 dates this week.”
Me - stuffing my face with sticky rice to occupy my tongue!
“Did I ever show you my sex toy collection?”
Me - ‘I knew I should’ve ordered the sake!’
“I have a thirty-foot rope.”
Me - ‘You ain’t no Christian Grey!’
“You’re really acting conservative tonight.”
Me – ‘By conservative you mean Classy!?’
“Don’t tell me you’re the kind of girl who doesn’t get on top!”
Me – Spits out drink. ‘Dude. Are ya kidding? Where did that even come from?’
“I’m so sick of one night stands! I mean they’re very satisfying. But I’m ready for a relationship.”
Me – ‘Congratulations! Make sure you tell your other dates about that rope!’
“[Some male testicular condition] is more painful than child birth."
Me – ‘YOU DUMB MOTHER F*****’
“You are just so beautiful… you know just how to style your hair, do your makeup, and dress so that it all compliments each other.”
Me – ‘Yay, my costume degree and my makeup design degree are getting put to use! Thanks, for the Validation, Sash!’
“Your eyes are just so …blah, blah, blah…”
Me – ‘not listening anymore. Your compliments mean CRAP!’
As you can tell, the date was a total disaster and I pretty much expected that from the beginning. But I thought, maybe … just maybe it would be nice to catch up with a former fling. Boy, I was wrong!
Anyways, the 5’10 creep paid for dinner…
Don’t worry, I offered to pay.
But maybe he realized he royally messed up and was trying to fix the already botched date.
We left our booth, me with my 2 for $6 bouquet - that no doubt one of his other 4 dates had the counterpart of. Hopefully, that poor girl didn’t fall into Sash’s - apparently undeniable -manipulations.
We left the restaurant with a hug and goodbye.
The flowers sat in my car, forgotten, overnight.
He messaged me the next day asking for another date. To a comedy club!
GAG ME WITH A SPOON!
I sent no response and instead cheered myself up with a trip to Target.
I left the wilted flowers in a shopping cart in the parking lot.
Heartless? You be the judge.
But yes, that’s my tragic Valentine’s Day story! While it was quite frightening and alarming to experience – it has brought much joy and laughter to those who listen to the events.
So, in retrospect, I guess it wasn’t a complete waste of time!
In conclusion, lovely readers, it might be safer to only have Japanese Cuisine when you know your dining partner’s sushi eating habits! Men, try and refrain from talking about sex early on in dating! Know your audience! If at all possible, in most circumstances, PLEASE refrain from mentioning you have a thirty–foot rope. Not only is it creepy, even If your date likes it – she will judge you! Sash, just because you have a rope doesn’t mean you know how to use it!
Finally, never EVER tell a date you hit up several other girls with the same text message looking to see who responded. Because ultimately you’re a jerk and I’m a fool!
Dating advice from the romantically challenged writer just for you! I hope you enjoyed!
Until next time!