Always ask or you’ll never know
Are you suffering from dating exhaustion? Tired of swiping right to disappointment? Kissed too many amphibians in princely clothing?
Well then there was FailedtoDeliver.
Yes, FailedtoDeliver. I first spied him at my local markets. It was a 1 pm brunch kind of day. I was weary from a boozy night out and probably still smelling a little beery. But then there he was, silver jug in his right hand, left hand firmly gripping the foaming knob, masculine energy abounding, dominating the espresso machine. As I approached the counter to put in my order his gaze lifted and I was zapped by his undeniable electricity. “Hhhello, hhhow are hhhyou today?” His voice was thick with a sexy Spanish accent, his eyes like pools of rich dark chocolate that I wanted to dip my senses in, lips that looked both angelic and devilish, tousled playful hair that was tempting to be tugged, and wore a simple blue T-shirt with jeans that promised a rippling, pulsing world of beauty beneath. Blood pressure behave! I could barely muster a reply in my state of unexpected arousal. “Hhhello”….oh shit no, I’d just done the completely unacceptable empathetic accent thing. Clearing my throat I tried to reclaim the moment and put in my caffeinated order, blushing wildly. But he seemed strangely curious and we chatted coyly over the squeal of the frothing milk, and within five minutes it felt like we had given each other the green light. All systems go. He was from Madrid, a masseuse by trade, was yoga mad, loved festivals and didn’t go anywhere without his guitar and cahon, and had a real passion for cooking, and worked at a weekend market stall that sold his culinary creations. Note: He also used the words universe, soul, energy, spiritual, shine, and peace at least twice during our first encounter. But as I wrote my number on a scrap of paper and passed it to him as requested, I could feel a surge of some kind of supernatural spark pass between us. Had I been converted so quickly?
And so, it was sexual infatuation. Our first date was spent in a corner bar that sold boutique wines and encouraged intensely spoken, low-toned conversation that occurred within a centimetre of each other’s body. Wrapped up in his smell, his sweet breath on my face whilst the wine hummed through me I felt connected to my higher self. It was bliss. Our second date was a 9 course meal, cooked by him in his eclectic messy kitchen. I was in tastebud heaven. My senses were flying off the charts. It was the best aphrodisiac I had ever experienced. And I may have given him permission to enter my kingdom of heaven as a result. And he came to glorify me. I was his goddess and he devoutly worshipped at my temple all night, returning again and again to satisfy me. But in the midst of our intimacies he never quite managed to finish….er, go to heaven, deliver his future children, get over the mountain, serve up a protein shake, had his ‘oh shi…’ moment. It was new to me but I let it go and happily took my 6 or so orgasms without questioning his empty share. Perhaps he was exhausted from one too many downward dogs? But as we continued to see each other so his manhood continued to refuse to ‘deliver’. Three weeks and counting, I was starting to feel selfish and oddly unsexy, in spite of my constant stream of orgasmic sustenance. So I asked. His answer was more of a set of conditions. As it happened he practiced orgasmic abstinence with “all” of his sexual partners, revealing the only way he could truly climax was through the act of domination. Then and only then could we be exclusive, as I would truly belong to him. He urged me to open up, discover my truth, and trust in the power. He then went on to describe the various acts and devices he liked to use on his chosen submissive but by then I could hear nothing but a buzz in my head. My blood pressure was once again elevated but not from wild excitement. More, nauseous panic. My well had dried up and my vault was locked. It seemed odd to me that a yoga loving, laid-back, guitar strumming type could only really want me hanging from a ceiling. I made a hasty goodbye after expressing my inability to comply and went home to watch Disney films and hug my hot water bottle.
How had I missed this? Or perhaps I had subconsciously known I was toying with fire and wanted to warm my fingers. Each to his own. He had his preferences and I had mine. But the image of being tied and spanked and whipped into submission had left a rather rancid taste in my mouth. Hmm, culinary gods I’ll need you on this one. And this time I expect a happy ending. Olé!
Si, Si, Si
1.5 cups plain flour
1 cup corn tortilla chips, blitzed
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup water
1 tbsp olive oil
1 pound beef mince
3 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 brown onion, finely chopped
1 green capsicum, diced
1 red capsicum, diced
1/2 cup stuffed green olives, chopped
1 red potato, peeled and diced
1 tsp oregano
1 tsp cumin
1.5 tbsp worcestershire sauce
2 tbsp tomato paste
1/2 cup chicken stock
Egg wash for basting
Blitz the corn chips in a food processor until they are ground down. Mix together with flour, baking powder and a good dash of salt. Add the softened butter and mix through thoroughly. Slowly add the water until the dough reaches a good consistency, not too dry or too sticky. You may not need all of the water or you may need a little more. Wrap in cling film and place in the fridge for an hour.
Heat olive oil in pan and fry onion until translucent. Add the garlic and cook until soft. Now add the beef mince and cook through. Place the remaining ingredients in the pan and cook through, adding the chicken last. Season the delicious mixture to taste.
Remove the pastry from the fridge and divide to roll out. I used a large freezer bag which I cut down the sides and then placed the dough in between the folds to roll cleanly. Or you can just use a floured surface. Roll out to around 1/4 centimetre thick. Press out circular pieces of dough. Place some of the beef mixture in the centre of each and fold pastry over, pressing the edges together. Brush the tops of each pastry with egg wash, ie one egg and 2 tbsp of water beaten together. Cook in an oven at 180 degrees centigrade for approximately 30 to 40 minutes, until golden. Serve with a lime and coriander mayonnaise or just some good old fashioned tomato sauce. ñam ñam!
I’m practicing gratitude thatthe universe aligned me with this flavour bomb. And you too are worthy!