I was supposed to have a “date” on Saturday with, let’s call him, Dane. Dane actually wanted to come over on Friday, but I had, like, laundry everywhere and the kitchen was a mess. I had also been trying to decide if I was going to the Oklahoma Aquarium in Tulsa to see my second most beloved kind of shark, the Bull Shark. Also, you get to touch white-spotted bamboo sharks and small stingrays there. Um, win. So. I said, “Uuuuummmmm, can we do Saturday instead?” He said yeah, but I had agreed to send him booty pictures in the meantime. Whatevs. They weren’t naked booty pictures. I also kind of hate calling my ass a booty—unless it’s ironically. I’ll sing it in a song (“Booty, booty, booty, booty rockin’ everywhere,”), but I do not actually refer to other people’s asses or butts, let alone my own, as a booty. IDK, it’s like calling underwear “panties.” CAN YOU NOT?! I don’t like those words. Like the word “moist.” The only time “moist” should be used is if you are talking about brownies or cake. Meat is tender or juicy, cake or brownies are moist, and there is moisture in the air. There we go. Also, unless you go commando, you wear underwear.
Antyway, as much as I wanted to go on this “date,” I also really, really wanted to go to the aquarium.
Oh, I should also mention that my mom found out that Dane was coming over to my house on the first “date.” She asked me, “What if it got sexual?!” I said, “Well...if it does it does!” That was NOT the right thing to say, apparently. Drama ensued, my brother got involved, he called me to scold me (“What in the FUCK did you do, Deandra!? You know how our mom is!” I hadn’t done anyone yet...see what I did there?) my mom called him to figure out what was going on, tried to call me 5 different times, and then my brother did damage control. Guess what that did? Made me double down. My mother raised some seriously stubborn, sarcastic, witty, talented, competitive, kind, and asshole children. We can be a paradox sometimes. But, seriously, I am a grown-ass woman, y’all. I’m 30 fucking years old. I can understand safety, but, girl’s got needs, and safety is at the top of my list! So, “I’m a safety girl.” I know I didn’t know this guy, but at that point he got me feeling some sort of way, and I was going to Get. It. On. That was my plan.
Dane flaked out on me. To be fair, I was actually going to make tacos so it wasn’t all about the “date” part. Still tossing around the idea of going to Tulsa, or at least go to KC to TJ’s, I did rent a car for the weekend. As soon as I noticed the first signs of flakiness, it was settled: I was going driving down to Tulsa.
Before going to Tulsa, I had done some research to see which restaurant I should try out. Because, apparently, I have started this thing in which I have to try Thai restaurants when I go to a different city. It started in Omaha, and I suppose, subconsciously, it has now become an official thing. So I researched Thai restaurants in Tulsa. Y’all. Y’ALL. I am so fucking spoiled up here in Topeka, KS because our Thai restaurant is amazing (Tuptim Thai in case y’all wanna try it if you live in/around Topeka, or pass through eventually). There were some listed as being the best overall restaurants in the Tulsa area on some travel sites. However, I was really, really disappointed when I looked at their menu.
See, I am a Thai curry snob. The only thing I actually have left to do in my curry quest is to actually make my own curry paste. Which I think I’m going to try before the year is over. While these recipes were “authentic”, and I KNOW that families have different recipes, but they weren’t my Thai restaurant recipes. Or my well-known curry recipes. There were peas in the basic curry dishes on the menus of these Thai restaurants. Peas! Not sugar snaps, not snows, but peas. Um, can we not? Some of them did not even include the proper herbs. Red curry has Thai or holy basil. Pad Kee Mao has Thai or holy basil. Red curry has bamboo shoots and bell peppers. Panang has some sort of peanut product in it and kaffir lime leaves. Red curry has a thinner consistency, and more savory. Panang is a thicker, sweeter curry. So when doing my restaurant menu research, I just couldn’t bring myself to eat at any of the restaurants. I would have been one of THOSE customers who asks about the ingredients, and would have tried to customize it, probably pissing off the kitchen.
In case anyone is wondering, I got these recipes from the owners of the Thai restaurant here in Topeka (Sorry, SB, if my curry wasn’t as awesome as I had talked it up. I do make awesome curry, that was not my best batch). So after losing my shit over the bull sharks, and getting my money’s worth out of the place, I broke my fast food fast that I had been on since January. I ate at Whataburger...I should have just gone to one of the Thai restaurants, yo.
The aquarium in general was amazing, and I dunno how many people get to experience the actual joy (I’m talking about knowing, really knowing, about that specific type of shark, and being able to see them up close) of seeing a bull shark pass only inches in front of your face/body. Or having one swim directly towards you? Like, gahtdamb, y’all. It was such a cool experience. I just really love sharks, okay?!
Antyway, at the first sign of flakiness from Dane, I went with my original plan of hightailing it to the aquarium. I do not regret it. I don’t think I would have regretted the “date” either, but I know the aquarium made me happier than I would have been. Because sharks for me are at a whole nother level. I got down there at around 2 PM, spent a few hours at the aquarium, ate dinner, started the drive back around 7 PM, drove through some storms, and was back home before 11PM.
The good thing that did come from all of this though (other than the obvious joy of seeing ma sharks)? If I didn’t have this “date”, my brother was going to take me to the zoo up in Omaha. “I swear to god, Deandra, if you don’t go through with this I WILL take you to the zoo.” As tempting as that was, originally, I was still planning on having Dane come over. Thanks to him flaking out though (if you ever read this, you totally did me a favor!), I get to go the zoo in Omaha sooner than I thought I would (I was planning another trip probably in the fall).
The other thing that happened because of the possibility of the Dane coming over? I realized that I needed to have my own stash of, um, condoms.
On Sunday I went to the store with all the confidence I could muster—which was a lot in that particular moment. I had it planned out: I would march my black ass into the store, go to the aisle that housed the condoms, pick a pack out, and proudly ring them up...at the self-checkout. The reality? I got to the condom aisle after getting a few other things on the grocery side, saw an older lady loitering in front of the cosmetics only a few feet from the section of condoms, lost all the courage and confidence I had walked in the store with, and quickly passed by the thing I actually came over to grab. I then had a rush of old purity culture thoughts fill my brain. Who said it was okay for you to “ho” around? Am I going through a ho phase? That’s wrong, and I’m totally going to be slut-shamed for buying my own condoms! Or get “the look” from that lady checking out the makeup just a few feet away. Holy shit, I can’t do that. They are all watching me buy my own condoms. A woman! This is so wrong, and you shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not okay to be having casual sex! It’s not okay to really be having sex at all because, hello, you’re not married! I walked around for a bit because I needed toilet cleaner. I got that toilet cleaner, and then headed back to try to spend some time, with a little bit of shame on top, looking at the condoms. Thankfully, nobody else was in the aisle. I proceeded to really take a good look at my options. I had never stood in front of the condom section for any length of time before that moment. It was always forbidden, embarrassing, and somewhat shameful. Sex was just off-limits, and to even think about them, to look at them? Would be a slippery slope thing. Like a license to sleep around type of thing. Antyway, so the next thing to add to my anxiety? Which pack of condoms did I even fucking pick?! Do you know how many condom options there are? Lots. But then all of the 3-condom packs were super picked over, but I didn’t want to get a bigger box because: What if they were the wrong ones, yo? Is it possible to make a wrong choice? What if the guy had a latex allergy? Then which one do I get? Do I want ribbed ones? Do I want the extra lubricated ones? Do I want the whatever pleasure ones? Which. Ones. Did. I. Need. To. Pick? I stood there awkwardly trying to work this all out in my head, and I’m sure I had a look of confusion and horror on my face. I had spent enough time there (because what if a person came down the aisle!), and quickly headed to the checkout. Sans condoms, but with a heavy dose of that gahtdamb purity culture shit wreaking havoc inside me: a low-key panic attack.
I tell you, just when I think I’m past it, and I thought I was after the boy sleeping in my bed episode, it pops back up. How much longer am I going to struggle with that? But I also need to be kind and compassionate with myself because this is 20+ years worth of stuff being dismantled in really only less than a year. Because I was committed to not liking dudes until I, 1. Worked through my thing for unavailable dudes. Reminder: that shit’s painful, yo. 2. Working through that purity culture bullshit. However, I threw myself into the dating world (online) back in the late fall, thinking that I had at least worked through number one. Number two was going to take some changing of thought, therapy, and find someone who was patient and understanding. Someone who wouldn’t push me as I reworked this boundary to allow for physical contact, and gave me the respect and space to do that.
On that note: I have not completely wrecked my friendship with SB. Dude, how are you still a thing? How? I mean I’m okay with that, but I just don’t understand. Or maybe I need to stop that whole not worthy of friendship bullshit?
I do plan on writing about my friendship issue thing in the near future.
On another note: I have two dates this week with a couple of guys who are actually taking the time to get to know me, and connect outside of the physical. Tomorrow I have the first date over some covfefe. Saturday or Sunday I have the second date. We’re going to the museum and then bowling. I am looking forward to this, but so nervous because, man. Two dudes, with a possible third that I have yet to meet in person, but am hoping to soon. How is this even happening? It’s raining men right now, and I’m not sure how to navigate it. I need to just get out of my way, and live in the moment though.
Mindfulness and all that shit.
This was supposed to be a shorter post, btw. Yet here we are, 2,100 words later.
No comments:
Post a Comment