Alas, dear readers, if my calculations (and concrete timestamps) are correct, it has been nearly three years since I’ve posted on this blog.
Boy, oh, boy, do we have a lot of lost time to make up for.
Three years of your lives, wasted, without my blog. I am sure you all noticed it was missing each and every day.
It’s been a hot minute since I was in college (CRINGE) (OLD! OLD! OLD!), and enough time has passed since a certain individual and I have deleted each other off of social media, and the air is starting to change juuuust enough (from like 108 to 106) to remind me of fall, that I’m ready to divulge another story.
I don’t really think it’s a big secret here that when it comes to relationships and dating, I’m a nightmare. I mean, look at this blog. Look at all of these emotional problems on clear display for the world to see. There are so many red flags I could be a Six Flags that has WAY more than six flags throughout the park. But, wait… no, this is not the direction I was intending to go. I’m here to roast someone besides myself, dammit! So let me do some damage control… What I have in flags I make up for in other areas, like being very loyal and having nice butt cheeks.
I really don’t even know how this has already spiraled so far out of the sphere of my intentions. “When will she come up with a new body part to compliment other than her butt?!” I’m working on it, people!! There are only so many functional parts left! “Get a job!!” I have one!! “Get a REAL job!” NEVER!!!
Anyways, taking the reigns back here–one of my biggest nightmare relationship qualities was always saying no to dating EVERYONE. To a point where I got to be 21, and I was like, wow, this is getting sad, I just need to do it. The problem with that was that, now that I was 21 and I actually was in a relationship, well, it really needed to be good, huh?, or I had wasted a lot of years on being a prudish knucklehead.
I also had no idea what a relationship should be or look like, or what number I fell on on a 1 to 10 scale.
So I was ride-or-die.
Which meant that a lot of things like this happened:
It was the fall of 2015, and I was in my first burgeoning (burgeoning is a loose term here) relationship. He said funny stuff to me on Facebook, we met at a diner and I liked his cologne (it was probably too strong but my allergies are the kind that need too strong for anything to get through), we messaged 24/7, he gave me a “friends or more: what are we?” ultimatum in the library and I thought he looked like he was going to cry so I said “more” even though it turned out it was just HIS allergies (and/or Voldemort eyes) (never trust a Slytherin…)–it was your typical high school romance, except we were in college.
After fall break, his mom had sent a box full of her famous pumpkin chocolate-chip muffins for he and I to share, but he ate them all in the car or something before I got to have one. So, in an act of what I then thought was penance, but now realize was just another way to get more muffins, he texted me, romantically, that he wanted to make muffins together to make up for it. Aw. How sweet! I was totally down. I loved muffins. That would make up for his transgressions. We would even use the same recipe for the full experience. It would be one of my first times venturing into the world of pumpkin spice, and definitely my first time baking with a BOOOoooOOY. The possibilities for cuteness were endless. I was so excited that Voldemort was interested in doing such a fun fall activity together!
The grocery store, I think, went well enough. We had to pick up some pumpkin spice, according to the recipe. It was a hefty price–around $4, I believe. He did NOT want to go through with it. Some partners would be cross about this sort of stinginess, but around this time, I was eating ground beef I left out all night to pinch pennies, so I understood the grope of poor-ness and didn’t mind his complaints. He had a lot of other important things to spend money on, like Jimmy Johns’ budget-friendly sandwiches, and like I said, it was very important to me that this relationship be good, so I was going to be understanding whether I liked it or not.
We began the baking process, which should have been a lot of playful wiping flour on the tips of each other’s noses and giggling, but did not manifest quite so. I can’t say for sure if we even got the flour out. I don’t exactly remember when he left the kitchen and my roommate started helping me make the muffins instead, but I do remember that it was for an important reason–for him to sit on the couch and complain about what was on TV. You know, you can’t make muffins without that.
I don’t even remember what show it was. Jimmy Neutron is coming to my mind but there were a lot of Neutron-related memories that fall, so the data is inconclusive. All I can say is that thank God he was manning that couch so we could get those muffins together. If he hadn’t, I really don’t know what would’ve happened. I don’t let myself think about it. It gets too dark.
Anyways, I’m not exactly known for my culinary skills–people are always saying stuff like, “I haven’t eaten an egg since,” after I cook for them and stuff, and none of my friends will ever let go of the time I tried to make frosting with applesauce, so me and my roommate baking together essentially looks like her measuring ingredients, handing them to me, and then carefully supervising as I pour them into a mixing bowl. I may as well not even be there–dead weight.
So our romantic fall activity as it now stood was Voldemort watching TV on the couch groaning and me standing in the middle of the kitchen watching my roommate stir a bowl of batter by herself. It was very romantic, as you can imagine. We had a few scares where Voldy got distracted and almost forgot to stop complaining, but by golly, he really pulled it together in the end, because the timer went off and what do you know–there were muffins.
I thought they were delicious. My roommate, too, approved.
Wow–it was a lot of ups and downs to get here, but we had really ended up with a nice–
It did not take long before Voldemort started complaining that these muffins did not taste the way his mom made them. Who could blame him? But I guess they tasted close enough to momma’s muffins because I’m pretty sure that he ate all of them all over again.
We continued dating through Christmas or so of that year.
After that, I tried to get back together with him. More than once.
It’s almost 4am and I’m really tired, so I’m just going to leave y’all with this: the moral of the story? When a boy really just needs to date his mom, you should probably get your muffins somewhere else? Keep your friends close and your baked goods closer? Have some self-esteem for once in your life? Learn more phrases than “at this point” and “I really can’t say?” I really can’t say at this point. All I can say is that there are some things pumpkin spice doesn’t go well with, and one is Voldemort.
Yours in love, jest, and jellyfish tests,
Melanie P. Spunkmeyer