Peek-A-Boo

You know, I've always felt like a good game of peek-a-boo was best reserved for the grandkids. Okay, okay, get your mind out of the gutter. I'll give you a minute to wipe it off... Ready now? As I was saying - a good game of peek-a-boo. Well, in this instance I'm talking about those on again off again relationships I know we've ALL found ourselves in. Yes, 'those' relationships - you know, the one they wrote that song about. 

I gotta say, I'm betting I know how a yo-yo feels and, you do too if you've ever experienced that. And yes, I know I've written about it already. Some things just bear repeating apparently. Seriously, though, it's a timing game. Talk about radar! It's like they've got Superman on speed dial, just waiting to peek through your walls.

You know how it is. You're home alone Friday night and suddenly, without warning, you get it - that same ol' innocuous text 'Hey.' I prefer my response "Hay's for horses so head for the barn jack ***." Of course I'm sure many of you are a little more lady like in your responses than myself. That could explain why I'm usually home alone on Friday night. Hmm....

But it never fails, you give in and then there it is - you end up remembering (a little too late) why it ended in the first place the last time and the time before and the time before... Then you're yet again in over your head or, as we say in Louisiana 'knee deep in gators'. And you'd be surprised how fast those babies can move! So ladies, if you don't wanna get bit, perhaps consider reading up on Houdini and his disappearing acts.

And guys, there are some of us women that if you attempt to call up late on a Friday night you'll end up with the wrong kind of what the kids refer to as 'booty call'. You'll get the booty alright... It'll be more like a boot up your backside. If you just absolutely, positively have to make that call, it'd serve you well to remember if you're gonna play with that you better be ready to stay with that.

E-MALE AND THE PONY EXPRESS

Well, like I promised... Here we go again. Just when I thought I had seen and experienced it all reality strikes again. It just gets me how much attention we pay to things like Kim Kardashian's 72 day marriage. If Kim had to find Mr. Right out in the country like the rest of us, she may have been more inclined to at least hang on for 90 days (roughly the equivalent of Lindsay's average probation). I think one reason marriages lasted longer in the old west was that by the time the circuit judge made it to town the couple figured out how to live together.

What's that? Oh, what's the E-male? The e-male is someone you meet who lives in a different area than you but insists that makes no difference. Now, I've said all along it's better if you live in the country to find someone also from the country; that way you have similar interests and values in life... usually. But what happens if you're part of the country is a whole state away from his part of the country? (In Texas that's roughly the size of 2 small European countries!)

You wish you could just tie a rope around the other person's city limits sign and pull it closer but that won't even work on a Garmin. (Now it's telecommunication rather than telegraph.) Just think if it were the olden days when you had to rely on things like the Pony Express or rotary dial phones. (Try making a webisode of that one Miss K.)

So, Mr. E-Male if you're going to ride the airwaves looking for the new version of the mail order bride (guess now that's the 'E-MALE' order bride), unless you want to end up riding for the Pony Express instead, learn to make the transition from e-male to air male. Believe me, there's nothing that sets our little hearts a flutter more than to find you on our door step rather than in our inbox... Just don't arrive C.O.D. - that's still tacky.

A HEART FOR SOLITAIRE

Ok. Ok. Ok. I'M BACK!!!! I got lost in thought again. It's still unfamiliar territory and I couldn't bring it up on my GPS. Besides that I had nothing to bellow from - my soap box spends more time in the repair shop than Lindsay Lohan spends in jail (not that that's saying much I guess). But, like I said, I'm back... and back with a vengeance! Today's topic: What do you get when you cross desolation with desperation? Apparently - MY DATING LIFE! Yep, another Madoff sighting... As in he made off with my brain. Why me, Lord? Why me?

You know the saying: 'He has a face for radio?' Well, how about this one: ' He has a heart for solitaire'!  Oh, well. What's a girl to do but keep on keepin' on as they say. If I were to really believe in "That which doesn't kill me makes me stronger", I could give Hulk Hogan a run for his money this week. 

Seriously, though, I guess I'm going through a no passing zone in my dating life for the time being. Kinda like when you're in a hurry to get somewhere and you end up stuck on a two lane road behind your neighbor on his John Deere headed to the hay field. You both have somewhere to be and are trying to get there the best that you can despite your limitations. But when you try to pass that tractor in a no passing zone you know what happens - if you're like me you end up highway patrol's 'speed' dial. So it's the same with lookin' for love... if you to hurry up you're inevitably gonna get caught up.

The good news is I get to hang out with my pasture pals tonight. It doesn't get much better than that... beer, blonds and laughter... so maybe by tomorrow my brain will have found its way home and my heart will be back from the cleaners (had to send it there after retrieving it back from the manure pile.) 

Oh, yeah, tomorrow's topic: When air 'male' becomes pony express.

Night all.

CARNIVALS, DIAMONDS AND DUDS

In a recent conversation with a friend, I realized my quest for love was about as successful as finding a Kentucky Derby winner at a shetland pony farm. I mean, you may find diamonds at Wal-Mart but they won't be Tiffany diamonds and more than you'd pick up the Neiman Marcus Christmas catalog looking for a good deal. But, somewhere in the middle there is a happy medium - no not the kind you find at a carnival. 

I know I'm not the only one in this boat because Carnival Cruise Lines just rented it. Look, guys and girls alike, we've all been there - wishing we had a significant other that not only completes us but also compliments us but, after awhile, thinking we'd be happy just to have a significant other. Ohhh, careful what you wish for. You could end up with a significant other that looks real good right up until the time you put down the beer bottle bottoms you were using as binoculars.  

It's not that difficult - or it shouldn't be anyway. It appears though that during the quest for someone special, I inevitably end up with what I call the "Bernie Madoffs" of the dating world. You know the type, they're kind of like Las Vegas slot machines - they'll take and take and take, giving back a little about the time you're ready to give up. Back in the 1950s they'd have knocked on your door dressed like a door to door encyclopedia salesman. And they last about as long as a Madoff investment, since the internet killed the encyclopedia like the video killed the radio star. 

We all know what Madoff and the encyclopedia have in common don't you? They both were full of bad information and they both went away forever.  So, the moral of the story today kids: On your quest for love, keep your brain in your head if you wear your heart on your sleeve... Unless you're like me - my cardiologist is still the only person who believes I even have a heart. 

DEPLETED DESERT

You know, it's funny what a person can get use to, especially in the world of rural dating. After a while you even start to think "I'd settle for someone honest." I cannot believe I just said that! Settle? Really? How sad is that? Oh, wait, I started out with funny didn't I? Sounds like the premise for a Woody Allen movie all of a sudden. Bear with me now, I'm breaking in a new soap box.

Fact is, however, I actually did say that and, at the time, I believe I meant it. As I have said many times, one of the greatest hazards of dating in the country is depleted selection to start with (we'll call it Depleted Desert). Now, think of distance and job restrictions as the Santa Anna winds. Put all that together and you talk about the perfect storm... the perfect DUST storm!  

But as I was saying about 'settling for honesty'. If you only knew the amount of the wannabes, wishIweres and Icanbes I've heard from you'd understand my statement. It's like you're lost in the Depleted Desert with a dust storm approaching and nowhere to hide when suddenly, out of nowhere, appears the mirage. You know the one...Mr. Heza Perfect Wrangler - all 6'0 of him with his dark hair, nice build, blue eyed self. You rub your eyes and shake your head to see if it's real, saying to yourself the whole while "If this is a dream, don't wake me up." He sure seems perfect. 

So you inch closer, a step at a time, fighting that darn wind and dust until finally, finally -you're right up close. Then you squint your eyes one more time, opening them cautiously - one at a time as you reach out for him. Where'd he go? Damn, he's gone. Let me see, so you close your eyes and open them again. Oh, wait, there he is... He's on the NEXT sand dune. Obviously, my camel needs GPS. "Hang on honey, I'm headed that way."

Funny thing about mirages, they may look vivid but they're not real. So while you may like the image, remember an image is fake. See where I'm going with this? I know the journey across the desert seems hopeless to the point that you'd settle for anything but take my word for it - DON'T! The real thing - the honest one - may be just over the next dune? And what girl doesn't like to be rescued by a strong, honest man? They're the ones that don't just throw down their coat over a mud puddle for you to cross... they carry you over it. 

As for the mirage, well I prefer to save the game of peekaboo for 2 year olds not 52 year olds.

ON THE RUN

Seeing as how I just got finished with morning barn chores, it calls to mind something I've seen along the way that I thought I'd pass along to you guys (and in some cases, girls).  In the dating realm, there appear to be two worlds: 1) the real one - which is by my reckoning sparsely populated at times and, 2) a parallel universe where everything is perfect and the munchkins greet you with a smile and a lollipop - we'll call this one Rainbow Row. Let's discuss this shall we?

In Rainbow Row guys are perfect gentlemen and girls never have to retouch makeup and hair. In the real world guys are occasionally gentlemen and we keep L'Oreal in business because we're always retouching our hair and makeup - especially out here in the country. 

Which is why I'm still trying to figure out why some guys on their profiles insist on a 'active' first date... ie working out, running, etc. Guys, come on, really? In Rainbow Row, you'd NEVER see us without makeup and our hair would always be perfect so in the real world do you really think we want you to see us with hair in a ponytail, sweat pouring down our face and our mascara doubling as blush? And we won't even go over how we feel about you seeing us in a pair of jogging shorts on the first date!

I can barely jog and breathe, muchless jog, breathe and talk. Oh, wait, that's what it is huh? Be that as it may, guys, look at it this way, we girls would rather focus our attention on you than the potholes in the jogging trail. Now if that 'activity' includes something like 'horseback riding down by the pond', well odds are we're not gonna care for that much better on a first date, especially in the summer. One word - humidity... In Rainbow Row there is none.

So, since we're in the real world here, how about this - a typical first date that includes dining INSIDE with the most strenuous activity being you walking us to our car. We much prefer strolling beside you to chasing you down like some random mugger! 

WHIPLASH AND HIP WADERS

Here's one for you that I know I've expressed before; it's about what I call the roller coaster guy.  I'm gonna try to keep this short and sweet because apparently my soapbox has run away from home again. But based on recent events, I just feel the need to revisit this one.

We've all had those relationships... the one where on Monday he's available, texting sweet things, telling you he's thinking about you, things like that. This is what I call the top of the roller coaster. Friday rolls around and the feelings are still there. Then week 2 and 3, still looking good - kinda. Then, for whatever reason, it happens. The texts and phone calls become more intermittent than entertaining. You know, like the loops on the roller coaster. Finally, as they say, what goes up must come down! It's so sharp you end up with whiplash if you're not careful.

You start asking yourself "What happened?" "What did I do wrong?" But you can't get those answers because he won't answer his phone muchless your questions. So, then "What did I do wrong?" turns into "What did HE DO RIGHT?" And now the roller coaster's at the bottom... where it stays for about a month.

Here's where the roller coaster meets the little engine that could because look at what's on your phone now - HE is.  That's right. You know the routine. First text "Hi" - like a scout peeking out from behind a rock to make sure he's not gonna get his head shot off. And you just can't help yourself. You have to respond. Whew, coast is clear so he peeks out a little bit more - I've seen snakes do the same thing. It's the apology text "Sorry... I've been busy..." or maybe "I lost my phone and your number but turns out my dog just buried it". (Yep, I've even heard that one.)

Now the question becomes do you hug his neck or wring it with that surrender flag he's waiving? What can I say, adrenaline junkie it is. You just can't resist giving the coaster a re-ride. Here's the other saying: First time shame on you, second time shame on me? Guess what pond you're wading into now? Hope you're wearing hip waders cause odds are you're gonna need them.

Awww. Look what just came home again... My dear little soap box. Wait. What's wrong with this picture?

THE DATE SERGEANT

I ran across something yesterday that I just feel the need to discuss today. It's about a profile of someone on an online dating site who had clicked they wanted to meet me (and that's about where the positive ended). I'd get up on my soapbox about it but apparently someone's seen fit to hide it from me. Go figure. Anyway, as I was saying...

I was perusing a segment entitled "Wants to meet you" on an online dating site. When I clicked on that person's profile at first it was looking good... Non-smoker - check, age appropriate - check (meaning he's too old to be my son and too young to be my father), nice picture - check.  Wow, 3 for 3. Then I just had to do it, I just had to read the whole profile. Here's where the wheels fell off.

Guys (and gals) if you want someone who's positive, may I suggest not using words like 'don't' and 'not' and 'never' over 12 times EACH?! I'm serious, the more I read, the funnier and sadder it got all at the same time.  Funny because he apparently wanted someone positive but had nothing but negative on there and sadder because from the looks of it he may have the potential to be a good guy. From what I read, I bet he'd make a great drill sergeant. But I don't want to go out with someone where I'm waiting to hear a whistle blast and him screach "Wrong fork... That'll be five laps... Move, move, move!" 

So, when I'm reading a profile of someone who is telling me and everybody else who read it what NOT to do and say and act and write well then here's my list: DON'T bother to check your inbox as there's NOT a chance in hell I'll be there and NEVER omit the positive if you're looking for it. 

CAT GOT YOUR TONGUE?

Ok, so my soap box is repaired... again. I know, I know, I'm wearing it out more than my mother did her Elvis Presley collection. But, hey, what can I say? The hits just keep on coming. Just when I think the tide's gonna turn and men are going to develop a little class - I get another email.

Guys, I'm gonna help you out here because apparently your mother was busy. When you send a message to a girl and the subject is "Hi", odds are we read that so it doesn't need to be repeated inside the email. Seriously. If you're gonna go to the trouble of hitting the send button, couldn't you invest a little more effort in hitting a few more keys first? But, I can't tell you how many times I've gotten just that - a email with the subject of "Hi" only to open up and SURPRISE the only thing in there... HI. Can you say anti-climatic... and delete?! 

Remember how your mother use to say "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" Here, I guess it'd be more like "Mouse got your tongue?" We know you're not William Shakespeare or Louis L'Amour but I remember reading more in my first grade reading book.  

I mean think about something to actually say. Now this piece of advice can be of use to guys and gals alike.  Here's an idea: Find something in their profile (yes, guys, you really should read the profile) and ask them a question or make a observation about something in it. If we go to the trouble of posting a halfway decent profile, the least you could do is pay a little attention to it. 

So, the moral of today's story is read before you write and please, please, please, WRITE BEFORE YOU SEND! Otherwise, don't blame us or your inbox if we don't respond. Now, there's a recall on my soap box so if you'll excuse me, I need to go send an email.

VIRTUAL OPTIMISM

You know, I still get asked "Where do you get all your material for this blog?" And, sadly, the answer's still the same "If you had met the guys I have you wouldn't have to ask!" Ok, ok, I hear you guys screaming at me not to start that bus up again (not that I can help it if you all seem to step out in front of it at the same time.) I'm not saying you're all in the same category... It's just there's so many in it, it could apply for statehood at any time. 

But, as in any other scenario, there are exceptions to every rule - and this is no exception. I actually met someone not too long ago, that seems nice. We have a lot in common, he can carry on a conversation using words with more than two syllables and he even seems virtually normal. Now, note I said 'virtually'. Yes, that's right. 

As you know by  now I've always been skeptical about the online thing but when you live in the country it's not like you have a lot of options; I mean we don't exactly have a Wal-Mart sized dating pool around here... still more like the kiddie wading pool. I've even made comments like "virtual dating is about the equivalent of being sort of pregnant". And if you think about it that analogy is not that far off the mark. You have to admit, until you meet, online dating is sort of like trying to date a hologram. You see an image, you hear a voice but the body's still out of reach.

Now the phrase "He's virtually everything I've ever wanted" has a whole new meaning - if you get my meaning. But being the eternal optimist and hopeless romantic I am (don't choke on your beer, foam out nose still not attractive), I'm going to keep an open mind.  And so should you.

PHOTOSHOP TO 3D

I'd like to expound a little bit on the theme of yesterday's blog "Spam Male" if you don't mind.  It seems that we all have one thing in common, (male and female) - liking someone online and on the phone only to end up with the equivalent of sticker shock when we actually meet them. I can't tell you how many have uttered the statement "The photos do not do me justice...I look better in person" When I hear those words, I automatically assume the role of funeral director because 9 times out of 10 that relationship is headed for the dating obituaries.

And it all begins with photographs. I know we all put up pictures of ourselves that we believe are the most flattering.  I mean, who's gonna put up pictures they think are bad? Right? Good in theory, usually bad in practice. For one before you post those pics, have someone you know will give you their honest opinion on them. Only politicians need 'yes men' and your mother's gonna tell you that you look great regardless (that's one of the perks of being your mother).   

Guys, if you wanna make a good impression here's one place to start: Athletic build doesn't mean strong enough to carry around those 50 extra pounds you've been meaning to lose.  It means you're in shape...not the round shape. Ladies, a little word to the wise, if you post a picture of yourself in a bikini, it better not be the one from spring break - when you were in college 20 years ago. You wanna talk about him looking for an exit ramp the first time you meet!

And, gal pals, when his profile says for a first date he'd prefer fixing you dinner at his place... trust me, that's code for one or a combination of two things: 1) he's too cheap to spring for a outing and/or 2) he intends you to be dessert. Either way, my suggestion is find the pasture gate before the bull gets out.

Bottom line here is honesty is still the best policy. Photoshop only goes so far - you still have to survive 3D without the glasses. 

SPAM MALE (yes, I spelled it right)

Wouldn't it be nice if we could do bad men like spam mail? Really. Think about it. What if, for instance, we have a bad date that we'd really like to get rid of - just totally forget? (And who HASN'T had those?) Or how about being able to run potential dates through a spam filter first to weed them out?

Just think about the time, money, make-up and hassle it could save.  I can tell you of at least one that I had. I had been talking to someone on line and then on the phone who seemed very nice. He had sent me pictures so I felt relatively certain that what I would see is what I would get.... WRONGO! He claimed when he captioned the photos with the date it was a typo (2011 should've been about 1991 apparently). 

I knew the minute I walked in and saw him it was going to be a disaster and at that point, I had two options. I could either a) leave the front door of the restaurant swinging in the breeze as I hit it at a dead run leaving Emily Post to roll over in her grave or b) I could muster up a smile continue across the room to the guy waving like he was landing a 747 and capturing the attention of everyone in the room... I opted for b unfortunately.

Now, see, that was totally a spam male moment for me. If there were spam filters for dates, though, I'm starting to think my regular inbox would be empty!

Happy Friday!

AND THE WINNER IS........

With the release of the year's Nobel winners, it got me thinking about something. There should be a Nobel prize for dating. Ok, ok, I'll give you a minute to quit choking on your coffee now. But, seriously, when you think about it, don't you use many of the components of Nobel areas?

For instance - economics.  In the world of dating whether you're male or female, there is an economic aspect to it.  For guys it's a question of budgeting a portion of his paycheck for dates and/or the occasional happy hour where he just might be lucky enough to run into someone he might want to buy a drink. For ladies, it's a matter of budgeting a portion of her paycheck for clothes, makeup and the occasional happy hour where she has to be her own drinks.

How about writing? If you're on a dating website you have to fill out information about yourself right? And aren't you trying to write something that's different, something that stands out above the rest like one of those giant fingers you see waving around at sporting events? (No, not that 'other' finger!) You have to come up with something witty yet sincere, straightforward yet aloof.  Trust me, I haven't seen many of those so there has to be an art to it!

And what about peace? Hey, hey, hey, I really do mean peace not that other 'piece' so get your mind out of the gutter... I'll give you a minute to relocate it... Now, moving on. Like I said - peace. A part of the peace process is about making friends is it not? Sure it is. And isn't that what dating's all about... meeting an old friend you never knew. Absolutely. It's about learning about new people and in the process, learning more about yourself.

So, if they can push for pole dancing in the Olympics, I see nothing wrong with a Nobel prize for dating. (We can discuss the specifics in a later blog.) How about sharing some of your ideas with me?!  

INBOX TO IN-HOME

Oh, those silly pollsters.  I'd like to know where they find these people who come up with these polls.  Really. I heard yet another doozy this morning... "3 Best Places to Find Mr. Right Other than a Bar". It read like a David Letterman Top 10 List gone real bad: 1) Church; 2) Your job; and 3) Your home. Wait. What? Yes, that's right. 

Now, I agree church is a good place to meet good people - the only thing there you have to be cautious about is whether it's someone being good or someone just on their good behavior. But the other 2 are a total head scratcher.  I know there are a lot of work place romances (I've seen plenty between law firms and ranches both) but I just don't know that I agree that the work place is the BEST place. I mean it's one thing to participate in the water cooler gossip but it's totally another to BE the water cooler gossip.  And my opinion is if it's office vs online, I'd much rather find someone on email than office mail any time.

But, how about the third one - 'your home'. Before they clarified that, I had visions of guys popping out of my closet like a jack-in-the-box or something - not bad if one of them is Brad Pitt.  But, apparently, what they mean is throw a party, invite your single friends and have them bring a single friend. Anyone besides me see the comedy of errors in that one? First off, if you have enough single friends to throw a party at your house, then why would you throw a party at your house... they're called BARS! 

So, yet again, it appears they've decided to promote a poll that had to have been conducted by people who are not single and haven't mingled since "single and ready to mingle" was actually a cool statement. And that my friends was a very, very long time ago.  

AUDIO VISUAL AIDS

Ladies, I'm gonna give you a audio visual aid tour of a man's profile on a dating website real quick.  Consider it your tutorial guide to the man's social stutter.  I say stutter because for everything he's trying to spit out, there's usually at least one thing he's choking on. 

First 'audio': You can usually tell if they wrote it themselves because half the time there's as many typos as your 5th grader's homework. On the flip side, I'm always concerned if it's real smooth it's either very well rehearsed or his mother wrote it. And, it's been my experience that neither is good.

Here's a visual aid: If one of his pics is of him in nothing but a towel and you DON'T see his arm disappear like he took the pic... well ya gotta wonder... WHO TOOK THAT PICTURE?! 

Here's something else to watch out for: If he says he's just a average hard working, christian guy with good morals looking for a woman with same then look at the pics... if half or more are of him shirtless (whether he's got it to flaunt or not) and at least one of those is in the bathroom, then re-read paragraph one above! 

Another pet peeve of mine is someone whose alias on a dating site is something sexual (i.e. lookin4u269).  I mean, that's just gross! And, yes, I've seen those many times in many forms (some people are so creative). Here's the warning sign: If they're looking for you for that and their profile says they're looking for a relationship - you better ask them what they call a relationship cause for some of them a second date qualifies.

WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE?

As I sit here writing this (on a Mac I might add), I'm reminded of how much difference a single person can make in this journey we call life. In this case, I refer to the late GREAT Steve Jobs.  I get so tired of hearing people say things like "I'm only one person...I can't make a difference..." Wake up people because you CAN make a difference. Look at Steve Jobs. 

In today's society we've become so focused on bringing things to ourselves, be it money, promotions, love, whatever, that we completely lose sight of the fact that we're capable of bringing ourselves to others! Seriously, we have. If we could get out of our own way sometimes, we might be able to see the difference we've made or are making in someone else's life. And isn't that what life (and love) is all about?! I thought it was. 

People like Steve Jobs are always looking forward. I admire that because that usually means if they're looking forward, they're not looking down at their outstretched hand unless it's to shake someone else's. There's a phrase in a song "You've got to give love to get it" and that is so, so, so, so TRUE!!!! Whether it's to your partner or your kid or here's a good one - how about your parent(s) - if you extend a radiant smile and a warm hug that's just as much paying it forward as if you won the lottery.

I get so sick of looking at people's profiles on these dating sites even that talk about nothing but what they want from someone else. I won't give them the time of day any more.  If you're not willing to take a few minutes and talk about what you too are willing to offer to a relationship, then my guess is you're even less likely to do anything about it.

So everyone reading today's blog, do me one tiny favor. Show a little kindness... it's not that hard... whether it's giving your child an extra hug or texting your significant other just to say hi and you love them. Then sit quietly for a minute and think about how you feel in that exact moment. Doesn't that feel good? Now, think if you multiplied that a little each day. By making those around you feel special, you've helped remind them that you are. And that my friends is where you've made a difference.

Now, could someone please go find me a hammer? My soap box needs a little repair.  

SHOCK AND AWE OR SHOCK AND OH NO!

Ok, guys, this one's actually FOR you, today - kinda. I'm going to impart some of my hard-earned wisdom and well-placed observations for your benefit. I'll give you a minute to quit laughing and get back up off the floor now. I know you always get a bad rap about things like not reading the directions (or asking for them) so I'll give you some verbal cues instead.  

First, have you ever had this happen: You're meeting someone for the first time after meeting over the phone and/or internet first.  This is today's version of the blind date (despite the fact photos are involved) so you should treat it as such. Remember, women are vane creatures by nature so do you really think we're going to post/send a pic of us without makeup and hair done? Course not... the smart ones won't anyway. (But ladies when you post those pics remember - if you're wearing a extra 'padded' bra and/or spanx those things have to come off at some point. So, I'm just saying... if you wanna keep his interest this is one time shock and awe could turn into shock and oh no.)

Second, you're in the midst of what you think is a lovely meal when her ex walks in with someone else.  What to watch out for: She excuses herself to the restroom and a few seconds later he suddenly disappears too. Odds are she's gonna come back to the table and within a few minutes her phone's gonna buzz with a sick friend or a colicing horse. Remember the Road Runner cartoon where he disappears in a trail of dust down the road? Last I heard Coyote never did catch that bird ... Yeah, there goes your road runner.

Lastly, when it comes time to pay the tab... pay the tab. I've seen guys actually put on their profile that the first meeting will be 'dutch treat'... there's nothing treat about it... that's just as rude in my opinion as it was 40 years ago. Think of it this way - if it went well, then it was a great futures investment and if it didn't it's still a cheap lesson.

FLANNEL PANEL

I saw a segment on tv this morning where women (via live and Facebook) were asking a panel of 'expert' men various questions and I was astounded.  If I had 10 seconds on national tv with a panel like that, I'd certainly make my question count.  For one, I wouldn't ask a question like: "Why is it all men think about are sex and sports?" Don't you think she answered her own question... they're MEN.  Well, duh.  

And about those 'panels'.  Ever notice how when it's a panel of women there are 2-3 but when it's a panel of men, they had to go to the backlot to get extra stools? You know the old joke about "How many Aggies does it take to screw in a light bulb?" Here it's more like "How many men does it take to answer a question?" Seriously. They have 1 guy doing the home improvement segment, 1 guy doing the cooking segment and 5 guys doing the questions segment. Scary thing is - they're questions about why guys do the things they do... and it still takes 5 of them to try and tell us. 

But as long as we're on the subject of the flannel panel, I have one I think would be interesting to ask... Why is it a man who weighs about 40 pounds more than he should put in an online profile he doesn't want a woman that's overweight?  And he follows it up with the statement "Sorry, don't mean to offend anyone... just bein' honest about what I want". Seriously, I need help with that one cause I got nothing.

Believe me honey, that's not honesty - that's delusion. Think about it. If I'm in shape, don't you think I'd prefer you are too?! Gees! Wouldn't you love to know how many hits HE gets? I bet he even wonders why he's still single, don't you?! So, bottom line here is, if you're gonna post something like that my suggestion is you don't post a pic of you shirtless leaning slightly toward the camera.

But I'm sure the flannel panel could some up with something - just as soon as they all quit asking: "What's wrong with that?!"

THE CATCH OF THE DAY

I don't know why it is I keep going after the catch of the day and come back with a big mouth bass instead! It's like every time I cast the only thing that ends up in my hand is the empty hook - literally!  I mean, seriously, do guys think we're really so dumb we can't see through them like a bay window? Yes, folks, today I'm high atop my soap box... AGAIN.

Here's an example for you.  You meet someone who believes he's a great catch (gotta start somewhere). You start dating and you start to think 'maybe he is a great catch'. Thing to remember here is - he's admitted he can't understand why he keeps getting released. Then it happens. In one fateful evening you realize why it is he DOES keep getting released.  He has more hangups than a telemarketer calling at dinnertime.  Then just when you think it can't get any more ridiculous he offers this: "It's not me... Must be you." No, I didn't type that wrong.

Guys, here's a tip for you, if you EVER want to have any hope of a successful dating life you never, ever, let me repeat NEVER tell a girl your 'issues' didn't show up until she did. I assure you, the internet has nothing on that girl at that point. That will be out there on the air waves so fast it would've made Chuck Yeager proud! And, yes, we'd be just as happy to see your butt strapped to a rocket engine.

So if I may offer this one sage piece of advice: when you're asked a simple question about your intentions and after a long silence filled only by the chirping of crickets you've got just 'let me think about it and we'll talk about it later', then do yourself a couple of favors... duck and think again. You didn't really think you invented that line did you? I don't know anyone (guy or gal) who likes to be left dangling at the end of a line and when it comes to country gals like me, we'll always opt to cut bait AND fish.

MOUSE TRAP

Ladies have you ever wondered just how truthful your man's being with you? Sure you have, just as I have.  (Ok, guys, don't have a cow here, I know same goes for you with your lady).  But for now, I'm really speaking to the ladies out there because I've had a similar experience recently.  It'd be so much easier if we were made with a built-in lie detector but ladies we have something better... the "Look".

I know I've talked about the 'look' before and guys you know the one I'm talking about. It's the one that can melt you quicker than Superman on cryptonite! For some reason when guys get that look they shake more than a 1960s go-go dancer and ladies if you're smart you just stand there giving him the cage to dance in. 

At issue: whether it's cheating if it's a online and/or on email relationship with someone else. In my book: YES.  If you're with someone and you're answering emails on a dating website, well, you are still on the website. (Not really rocket science.) To me, those sites are one big cookie jar with a spring like a mouse trap... Go ahead... put your finger on THAT mouse and click... more like SNAP! 

So guys (and girls), remember, like curiosity killed the cat, the mouse can bite you in the butt. I know guys make jokes about BOB (battery operated boyfriend) but BOB don't have email.  On the other hand, ladies, instead of the guy's blow up doll of the old days, now he's got a 'boot up' doll - his computer! With the old one at least you could let the air out of it.  

CAN I ASK YOU A QUESTION?

How many of you have had this happen to you? You meet a guy and strike up a conversation so then he asks you out.  As the night wears on you suddenly realize he's done all the talking and you're getting a little seasick from nodding your head all night.  Now I know earlier dating etiquette (circa 1950s) would dictate that doing that is the proper thing to do as it is a boost to the 'gentleman's ego'.  I guess that means if I had been born far enough back to be dating then, it's more likely that I'd have ended up as a nun with a perpetual vow of silence.

I suppose if you really like the guy you can try to stick it out a couple more dates and see where it goes. But I can tell you, it's been my experience if he spends all his time talking and none of it asking questions, then where it goes is probably to the outhouse at the bottom of the hill.  Think about it.  As humans, we're curious by nature so if something interests us, we're inclined to check it out. If he isn't checking you out like a Netflix movie, my suggestion is hit the next mailbox.

I will say, that has to be a two-way street though. If you spend all your time talking about your best friend he may start wondering why he isn't going out with her. Another suggestion, if you think there's a chance he may be a guy with a gift of self-absorbed gab - TAKE A NAP.  No matter what, I've found it's still considered rude if you nod off while he's talking about the fiasco also known as his ex-wife.

One thing's for sure, if you want to flatter him... ask him.  Seriously, nothing flatters a guy more than asking him a question on a topic he's discussing (that way he thinks you're really paying attention). I'm not suggesting you turn into Oprah or anything here but a few well-placed questions just might steer him in your direction. Whether it's his mother's apple pie recipe or his new horse - ask him something... anything... and you'll be surprised by the glint in his eye. He may suddenly look at you like you're Sandra Bullock.  But if he looks at you more like you're F. Lee Bailey then you're probably as sunk as the Titanic anyway.

TOP FIVE

We've all had them - those moments that come from out of nowhere and make us wish we'd have completely finished off that bottle of tequila the night before.  But then again if tequila were really that good there wouldn't be a worm at the bottom of some of it now would there?! So here's my top 5 that happened all in one day:

#1: Long ago (1980s) I married my oldest daughter's dad at a backwoods country church in Louisiana that still had a baptismal in the creek out back and located about 10 miles from anywhere. But that wasn't it - I decided to get married on the opening day of deer season (which DID NOT make me popular among the groomsmen I can tell you). Had I thought that through I'd have realized I'd have a bunch of unhappy hungover hunters with high power rifles in their trucks onhand.   

#2: My maid and matron of honor kidnapped me, driving me up and down the highway in front of the church and honking the horn. The preacher didn't think it was too funny when we pulled up and I rolled out laughing and squealing "At least they let me out of the trunk".  

#3: Wardrobe malfunction. I had a magnificent dress, complete with veil and all; very formal. Under that beautiful dress I wore a delicate, lacy pair of shoes... at least until the reception when I slipped out and put on a pair of red ropers instead.  When my husband carefully lifted the hem of my dress to seek the garter and saw the red boots he threw my dress up so high it looked like a parachute coming down. All I can say is good thing my slip was big! 

#4: The after party.  Since we got married in a baptist church, several others joined us for adult beverages in the lounge of a Monroe hotel where we were going to spend our wedding night. Don't laugh at me - it was his idea! Now with us were the usual unindicted co-conspirators such as friends, family members, my ex-brother-in-law. Wait. What? Yep, even the brother of my first husband joined us.  But I'm saving the best for last.

#5: Next morning we woke up still in our wedding night bliss (not to mention a little foggy from the hangovers) when I noticed something.  A door in our wall! After staring at it for a while it hit me. I literally fell out of the bed screaming and laughing hysterically "Holy crap. Hey. Honey.  WE JUST SPENT OUR WEDDING NIGHT NEXT DOOR TO MY MOTHER!!!!" True story. 

Moral here: When you get married make sure it's not on a day when everyone's going to have high power rifles in their truck, take your own car, wear a big slip and whatever you do... NEVER, EVER let your mother make your honeymoon arrangements.

STRAW POLL

There are few things that can shatter a single gal's self-confidence worse than the thought that no man may ever want her.  It goes back to that 'look in the mirror' thing really.  Let's face it, it's easy to believe in yourself when times are good.  When times are bad, however, self-doubt creeps in like a teenager out after curfew. 

And ever notice how, for some reason, when you're feeling down is when all those danged 'polls' come out.  You know the ones - with titles like "How to Find a Guy/Girl in 10 Websites".  I know all the experts say we're not suppose to let our dating/social status dictate our level of self-confidence.  But let's turn them loose in Small Town USA on Friday night and see how well they fair.  Gives new meaning to the phrase 'straw poll' I think.

Speaking of the polls, I always get a kick when I read these polls 'they' (whoever "THEY" are) come out with.  The ones that amuse me the most - the ones that are about dating in modern times but are written by someone who's in their late 50s and been married since 1975! Tell me again where they got their intel? I heard Studio 54 went out a long time ago. It's like when you're sitting at a bull riding behind someone who won't quit slamming whoever's riding in the arena at the time... every time.  Makes you wish there was a request for a 'volunteer from the audience' like at the old timey magic shows! Talk about a disappearing act then.

Now don't misunderstand me, I'm not for one second pretending to be a relationship expert myself. If I were, I wouldn't be writing this blog, I'd be at home fixing dinner for my spouse of 25 years... Oh... Wait... I don't have one of those. 

WHY BUY THE COW...

We've all heard that one haven't we... Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?  No, not an ad for the dairy farmers association.  Sometimes I think that should be plastered over the mirror in the ladies room of every bar in town.  How funny would that be?! 

And I'm not just talking about the young ladies here either. I've seen women in their 50s and 60s go out dressed like they bought their clothes in the junior department at JC Penneys. Really? Your daughter let you out dressed like that? Wow.  Next time, may I suggest a MIRROR in your closet!

Maybe someone should invent a scanner like the ones used by the airport security only this one alerts for a fashion crime over the age of 45.  I mean, think about it.  People (especially women) wanna throw fits about privacy invasion of what the scanners see but apparently when they got dressed to go out tonight, their good bra was in the wash because it's definitely not on them. Go figure.

One time I watched a group of four 'life experienced' women (ok, ok, they were in their 50s) out for what was obviously a rare experience - girls night out. I say obviously because 2 of them were wearing more make up than you'd find on the set of Sex and the City and at least one of them had on enough perfume to use as air freshener.  But they were out for a good time.... Mission Accomplished.  It didn't take long for a couple of guys to pick up on them. (Funny how guys can always spot the newbies).  I watched as the alcohol and lines flowed. Then it happened... SMACK! Apparently one of the guys got a little fresh so he got slapped. 

All I can say is, if you don't want to give the milk away for free, your  container not be so see-through!

The 'eX' Factor

What a wonderful fall weekend (with the slight exception of temperatures more suited to June than September).  Yesterday, I spent the day with my daughter and my ex at a barrel horse exhibition and sale... It was a spectacular event and we all had a great time.  

Now, some of you may be reading this scratching your head and exclaiming "You used 'great' and 'ex' in the same description!" And you would be justified in making that statement.  Trust me, there are still many times that remind me why I like beer.  But one thing I've found is with divorce as with child birth, time has a way of erasing the stress and pain of both.  Unfortunately, though, they're both still quite costly. 

Back to yesterday.  It was a beautiful day and there was lots to see. (Four-legged AND two-legged I might add and I'm sure my ex would agree).  It was not lost on me however that had I not been there, he'd probably have had a field day with either... I think the girl:boy ratio was probably 3:1.  

I get asked a lot about how is it I can spend time with my ex and not want alcohol through a feeding tube and the truth is I have no idea. We've been apart for many years now and that may have something to do with it.  On the other hand,  for the first few of those years, getting to that point seemed about as likely as us being able to afford any of those horses we saw yesterday! I've even joked in the past that I believe a couple of times he and I tried to hire the same hit man... Again, joking here - but you get the picture! 

When you have kids with an ex, you have to get to what I call the 'the point of no return'. Kinda like the Wal-Mart policy of after so many days you can't return the item.  Sometimes when you get it back home again you realize, it may not have been the perfect match you thought it was, but it's not so bad after all either...

DID YOU SEE THAT?!

You remember the experiment where several people in a crowd were witness to an event and then later asked to recount what happened and the perpetrator's description? Each person seemed to have a different version of the same thing.  How about we pull that same experiment at, say, a rodeo? It's funny what men notice and remember as opposed to women... well, kinda.  

Here's the scenario: you and your sweetie are watching the rodeo when a beautiful barrel racer comes flying into the arena on a speeding horse.  You're both taken aback by the sight; transfixed as the pair seem to perform as one, turn after perfect turn. As they go whizzing by, barreling into the exit alley you exclaim to your partner "Wow, what a pair!" To which he responds "Yeah, no kiddin'." You barely notice he's zoned in on the back alley, his eyes glazed over like when you're giving him laundry instructions.    

Now, fast forward to the dance later that night when you're with friends giving your personal professional review (yes, we all have those) of the rodeo. As you're telling your girlfriends about how the pair came bounding into the arena, your other half is telling HIS friends about the big, beautiful set of boobs bouncing into the arena! "OMG! I didn't mean THAT pair you idiot!!!" You wanna slap him so hard he won't be able to shave for a week.  

But be careful. We could turn that around to be fair.  This time it's the bulldogging - which to you non-rodeo readers is where a big hunka cowboy bails off a perfectly good horse (kinda like skydivers leaving a perfectly good airplane in my opinion), to wrestle a steer to the ground.  You both watch the cowboy and his mount shoot out of the box into the arena with such force it's like they're shot out of a cannon.  You can't help but notice those big broad shoulders, those long powerful legs... then when he gets up oh my goodness what a pair of Wranglers.  NOW whose eyes are glazing over? Your sweetie announces "Damn, did you see that?" And very under your breath you whisper "Not yet but I can always dream!"

See what I mean?  

HUNTING OUT OF SEASON

You know, I can't help but get tickled at people sometimes.  Yes, even grown ups.  We all try for the most part, I believe, to show the better part of ourselves but, from time to time, the dark side shows up.  Now, I may catch some heat for today's post but sometimes I just have to speak my mind. (Ok, ok, those of you who know me are now spitting coffee out their nose squealing "SOMETIMES?!") 

Today's topic... Poaching.  No, not critter poaching but rather spouse/significant other poaching. Same rule applies here though: YOU JUST DON'T DO IT!!!!!  I mean, I know as well as anyone the pool of promising prospects out there is as shallow as most Texas ponds right now but still it doesn't give you the right to take what belongs to someone else.  You just move on to the next watering hole. Honestly, jewelers should hand out "No Trespassing" signs when they sell a wedding ring.

What are poachers? To me, poaching is in the same family as back-stabbing and cowardly (probably second cousin twice removed or something). Poachers are clandestine, hunting stealthily under cover of darkness usually for something that's either out of season or off limits... They'll scout their locations, simultaneously looking for their prey as well as the nearest escape route (cowardly). They're also ready and willing to lie to cover their tracks and/or justify their actions (back-stabbing); so you never know where you stand with them. And apparently reading isn't their strong suit; if it were they'd read the "No Trespassing" signs.

So, a word to the wise from your friendly relationship game warden here: "Watch where you point that thing... I'm not Bambi!"

THE 'MARRY' GO ROUND

Sometimes being single and dating is like being on a merry go round that someone else is pushing - it's fun for a bit but then you start feeling sick to your stomach and everything's a blur... That's when it becomes the 'marry' go round.  So could someone please let me off this ride?! It's spinning faster than Tony Stewart's back tires!  

I know we've all felt the urge to bail off that dating merry go round like a stuntman from the Dukes of Hazard from time to time. But for some reason, once the world stops swimming before our eyes and our stomachs stop lurching we jump right back on.  When it comes to adults on a merry go round - I've seen smarter 6 year olds on a playground!

Watching a crowded restaurant or bar is rather like watching merry go rounds. Someone starts out at one table, making their way around it, then they eventually segway to another, then another, until they find the merry go round with just the right speed and an empty slot. It's interesting how much you can learn watching and listening to total strangers.  One night, I overheard someone at a table near me at a restaurant remark "I'm glad I'm married but sometimes I think I'd like to sample what's on another menu." Trust me, not you don't. That's how people get food poisoning! 

I actually knew someone who caught her boyfriend out to dinner with someone else and rather than causing a scene, made him a nice meal the next evening complete with dessert... All I can tell you is, if you're cheating and you come home to a nice meal, make sure what you're dipping your strawberries in is ONLY chocolate.

So if you're like me and you feel as if you're on that same proverbial merry go round, take my advice, it's a lot easier to enjoy the scenery if you're not moving in circles at the speed of light.

MAGIC TIME MACHINE - (Reposting)

Today, I'm in a rather melancholy mood I suppose because I keep thinking about phrases like 'old school' and 'courting' and 'letters'.  Remember letters? They use to come in envelopes and had real stamps.  I do.  Or how about those lost love letters from when you were in grade school? 

Several years ago my mom handed over to me a folder that contained items from my past; some of which I had forgotten about and some of those I can't believe I did.  There was my high school graduation invitation, a couple of my wedding invitations, various photos and even a few of my poetry attempts. The first time I went through the items it was like I was in a time machine... I was 19, then I was 15, then I was... in tears. 

Among the treasures from my past a simple little letter from when I was in the second grade, a letter that until that moment I knew nothing about. I must share this story with you.  The page is obviously yellowed with age and slightly tattered, still in the envelope he had put it in. Hands trembling, tears welling up, I opened it. On one side of the page I recognized my own handwriting:

          "Dear Randy,

          1. I no were you live

          2. I no you have a raccon.

          3. I love you.

          Debbie"

On the other he had written:

          "Dear Debbie Williams,

          1. I live on 307.

          2. I have a dog.

          3. I have a cat.

              I have a raccoon.

           I love you.

          Randy"

But it wasn't what was WRITTEN that chokes me up, it's what was slightly ERASED:

          "I am going to marry you"

Randy and I were classmates and I remember him to this day; his blond hair, lively eyes and typical enthusiastic boyish ways. He lived on the road directly behind me in the small town of West Monroe, Louisiana.  The area was typical of the time - large yards, beautiful pine trees, on the outskirts of town and on the fringe of being in the country. The time: fall 1970. 

Randy was coming over, letter in pocket, to see me... I can only imagine what he must've been thinking, what he must've been feeling.  It was the weekend after all, no school, no band, just time. Time - the one thing we always assume we have plenty of especially when you're 8 years old - but we didn't.  Randy was struck down by a car and killed.   He never made it.

Looking at it even now, the prophetic and symbolic nature of this one little letter is overwhelming.  What was clearly written - that love was alive in the present.  The future's desire, faded slightly by pencil eraser, forever erased by death.   

We should never assume we have nothing but time or we'll find we simply have nothing.  Nor should we presume those we love, know we love them... Show them, even if it's one simple little letter.     

Betty Crocker and the Cutting Torch

Ladies, how many of you have heard your man say something to the effect of "I don't need to measure that, I can eyeball it"?  Well, if that's the case then is there any reason to give a man a measuring tape? Really?  To me that's about like handing Betty Crocker a cutting torch anyway!  It's just too fun to miss. 

But, I guess it goes back to that old adage about men and asking for directions (more like NOT asking for directions).  Just like we have that built in compartment on our hip to carry our babies around, they like to brag about how they have great vision including a built in vision for measurements.  And they do have built in measurement vision, especially for the brunette in the string bikini at the gas pump.  Of course, I think x-ray vision comes into play there!

What prompted today's blog topic is this past weekend.  I was working a playday (that's various timed events on horses for you city-folk).  One of the events requires 6 poles (a sport also known as 'pole bending') which have to be set in a straight line starting a specific number of feet from the timer with specific space between each pole.    

I look down from the announcer's stand and see 3 grown men playing with a tape measure.  It reminded me of bear cubs playing with a circus ball. First was the actual measuring which meant the 3 of them standing in the middle of the arena, spitting tobacco and discussing where to set the poles. It was obvious what they were doing so I waited and waited and yes well waited some more for at least one of them to ask "Where do these go?"... But looking at that question here, I guess I can see why they might not exactly ask it that way! They finally get the poles set and then wouldn't you know it, the poles are crooked.  Again, in their defense though, they do have an eye for curves.  

So what do we learn from this, ladies? Next time your man decides to build  you a new storage shed and he picks up a measuring tape,  you just pick up a bottle of wine.  That way, by the time he and your bottle of wine are finished, you won't notice that your new storage building looks more like the Leaning Tower of Pisa!  

Perfect Imperfection

Like anyone else I have my flaws.  Unfortunately, one of my biggest ones is a tendency to jump to conclusions and boy when I do I may as well be jumping off a cliff!  The bad part is I know before I do it that it's gonna be a train wreck but, well, I pull that train right out of the station anyway. I see something and rather than taking a moment to examine the whole picture, I find myself wearing a pair of blinders quicker than a thoroughbred in the Kentucky Derby.  

Another flaw? How about impatience? I seem to be allergic not only to nuts but to waiting (both make me break out in hives).  I have a tendency to be a scheduleholic which compounds the problem.  I don't know what makes me crazier, waiting on a date or the horseshoer.  You ever notice how both seem to be notoriously late when you're in a hurry?

Then again, if we were all perfect, it'd be like dating a computer (not to be confused with computer dating).  I mean, who wants to kiss R2D2 - really.  So, today it's about accepting each other - the good, the bad and the ugly.  Loving is more about accepting imperfection as a key component in your soul mate than about trying to create perfection in your mate.  Think about it - who really wants to end up with the Bride of Frankenstein!

Here's Looking At You!

Don't you hate it when someone says to you "I don't know what I'm looking for but I'll know it when I see it"! But, yes, I know we've all said that. Well, if you don't know what you're looking for in the first place, how would that even be possible? It sounds like a guy's excuse after every woman in the bar turned him down.  (Which would be the equivalent of saying "I could've finished that marathon if my shoes hadn't been so tight".)  

With women, it's usually heard during a desperate search for a new dress, a new pair of shoes, you get the picture.  With guys it usually applies to the quest for a new toy of some sort (animate or inanimate). But from time to time, we use the same statement to apply to our quest for love.  And that's where it can turn into a double-edged sword.  It's possible that if we don't know what we're looking for, then what we're looking for is looking right at us.  Or to the other end, what we think we're looking at is not truly what we see.  Seeing double yet? No problem. Grab another cup of coffee, re-focus and you should be fine.

You see, we all claim to know what we're looking for but time after time when that very thing walks up and kisses us on the cheek what do we do? Ever seen a deer in the headlights? Yep, you got it.  We freeze, and our eyes glaze over.  Kinda like your kids' look when you're trying to figure out whose idea it was to wrap tin foil around the cat's feet.

So then, what are we to do?  For one thing, don't worry about spending money on a trip to the eye doctor.  This is one part of vision he can't help you with.  And, if you see love standing there in your rear view mirror, it always looks better in 20/20 hindsight.  Just try not to back over it.

  

Sometimes You Feel Like a Nut...

Well, I think I may have found out what the problem with my dating life is... I'M ALLERGIC TO NUTS!  Yep, that's it. I'm allergic and that seems to be pretty much what I draw - the NUTS! You know how it is - you stub your little toe and next thing you know you're walking into everything; you rip a nail off into the quick and you're catching that finger on anything.  Well, same principal applies here.  I'm allergic to nuts and they seem to grow all around me.  

Now, don't get me wrong here, it's not like I'm asking for a guy with no nuts - I just want a guy who ISN'T nuts.  (Just thought I'd better make that clear).  And some days, it's like I'm standing in a Georgia peanut field with nothing but nuts as far as the eye can see.  

Now, I know we all bring baggage into a relationship but I'd rather find someone who doesn't resemble a door-to-door salesman for Sampsonite!  Is it too much to ask to find someone who's stable, educated, funny and most importantly - not married?! But I guess if they were stable, educated and funny, they wouldn't be single would they? Course not. 

And today, another one's officially off the market.  A dear friend of mine and his lovely fiance are tying the knot this evening and I applaud them. Lightnin' Jesse... good luck and best wishes... And, Beth, you're getting a great guy.   My dear readers, this is one union that'll last I'd be willing to bet.  You see, they both like to shoot! 

Please Don't Squeeze the Charmin

You remember those commercials? Sadly, I do.  Anyways, it's a great line leading me to ask you guys one thing... HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FREAKIN' MIND?! I saw something the other night that reminds me of an incident that happened to me many, many years ago.  I happened to catch a guy in a crowd watching a little brunette.  As she happened to brush past him, he non-chalantly (or so he thought) reached down and gave her a little tap on the rear end as he pretended to be reaching into his front pocket.  I mean... Seriously? What? She look like produce at Wal-Mart to you? She was much more of a lady about it than I would have been I can tell you that.

Now I know when you're in a crowd it's easy to bump somebody and I've accidentally done it myself. But guys, it doesn't mean we're a bunch of free range chickens for you to pluck up.  Let me give you a little food for thought so to speak.

Again, many (many) years ago I was walking through a crowded bar looking for my friend when without warning or provocation, I was groped from behind... and when I say groped I mean he grabbed on like a drowning man hugging a life preserver.  Now, I'm a tiny little thing (I know 6th graders bigger than me) and this guy was a fair bit bigger than myself.  I was so shocked I instinctively turned around and took a swing at him, breaking his nose.  I'm not proud of that behavior so don't get me wrong.  But when blood went everywhere and he squealed like a pig under a gate, I informed him in no uncertain terms he was lucky his nose was the part of his anatomy I made contact with.  You should've seen him trying to explain what happened to the bouncer. And while I did get bounced out of there, I'd be willing to bet that guy never grabbed a woman on the rear end again...

The moral of the story today is if you see something you like, we prefer you keep the squeezing to your produce.  Otherwise, it could be about as smart as reaching out for the last piece of chicken when the lights go out and everyone around you is armed with a fork. 

  

What Part of No Was Unclear?

Today I'm exploring the other side of the coin - those who can't seem to take NO for an answer.  We've all experienced that person in our lives; whether it's that PTO mom who can't understand you have a full-time job in addition to 2 kids which limits your appearances at bake sales or that co-worker who can't get it through their head that you really don't want to go out with her cousin Harold who's an accountant still living with his mother.

For today, though, I'm talking about that guy who hangs on to you like you're a lifeboat in the middle of the Pacific. It's really simple guys - if you've asked us out 10 times and we've said no, you can bet the 11th time is going to yield the same result.  What is that saying about insanity and looking for a different outcome? 

I've had this happen to me and even today I get calls and/or text from someone who I know I've told and texted NO to numerous times.  You'd think after 6 months they'd take a hint.  Guys, come on, really? You can memorize every football stat known to man but you can't remember the stats in this situation are 0 for 10? The Detroit Lions have a better record.

Perhaps you think it's your way of holding on to us? Only if you had gloves made with superglue and velcro.  I realize we sometimes want the things we can't have, there's just something alluring about it.  In this situation however, Mission Impossible is more than just a movie title.  

I truly believe when one door closes, another one opens. Just take a minute and check the address.

Row, Row, Row Your Boat...

As I was perusing my mental Lost Loves Highway the other night, something struck me... No, not a 18-wheeler - although proverbial wise, about the same effect.  As I'm sure we've all experienced, sometimes love isn't exactly a two-way street.  We've each had that one flame that seemed to burn brighter on one side or the other.  Now when it's on our side, the heat seems quite intense while on the other side it's about as hot as the dark side of the moon.  

Question is - what do you do about it?  Well, like traveling the wrong direction on a one-way street, when you see that sign that says "DO NOT ENTER"... look for an off ramp.  I know, I know, that's sometimes easier said than done.  We find someone we're really interested in and in our minds they feel the same way about us until we check our phone, email and facebook.  For awhile we make excuses for the one-sided, unanswered calls, text, emails... he works out in the field, he's in an area with no cell service, his dog at his sim card... (Yes, I actually heard that last one). 

I hear all these stories from women (and men) about 'the one that got away'.  Well, sometimes the 'one that got away' is kinda like that fish story about the one that got away.  The more you tell it, the more sensational it is. But if you went back and found it, what you'd probably find is something that looked half as good and smelled twice as bad.

Yet day after day, text after text, we hold out hope.  We keep thinking he's busy but he'll come around (I just need to help him).  Long story short - Um, probably NOT a good idea. Because while you've got images of "An Officer and a Gentleman", he's picturing more "Fatal Attraction". And we know how that one ended!

No.  At some point you have to realize you're canoeing upstream in the river of love which is certainly one place you don't want to be without a paddle! And, like the song says "Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream".  So let's all dream on together shall we?!

I'll Call You a WHAmbulance

Today, I must vent about a pet peeve of mine - (yes another one) - men who are more feminine than me.  I know, I know 'there's someone for everyone' and different people are attracted to different types.  For me, I really do prefer someone who has a firmer handshake than mine.  I've been out with men who don't and the two things they have in common are a) they turn out to be men who whine, and b) are more emotional than an Oprah Winfrey audience.  And that's not for me.

When it comes to the whining, I don't allow my children to do it so I'm surely not going to handle it well from a full grown man.  Now, I know we've all done it, including myself, even at times in our adult life.  But when it comes from a guy, at the first peep of it, I start looking for the fire exit.  Occasionally, though, there's been someone that I really do like and I have to then decide if that's enough to send them packing. Short answer ultimately is YES. So if we're talking on the phone and I hear whining on your end, it better be coming from your dog wanting to be let outside.

As for the wearing the emotions on the sleeve, don't get me wrong here.  I believe men who are in touch with their feelings are usually more considerate of ours and we certainly like that.  But as with anything, too much of a good thing is bad.  While I appreciate the fact that you're secure enough in yourself to tell me that you've spent the day thinking about us, wanting to be together, missing me, etc., after about the 20th time for the day third day in a row, it starts sounding like a daytime soap opera.  Like putting too much sugar in your coffee; it'll give you a boost but it'll also give you a cavity. 

Long story short, we don't mind hearing about your bad day, your jerky boss and the moron who cut you off in traffic; we've all experienced all of the above.  But if I feel the urge more than twice a week to tell you to 'grow a pair', odds are we're not a pair.  So, if you're going to whine, I'm going to call the WHAmbulance.

From the Party Ball to the Party Pole

I keep saying that we do things a little different out here in the country but there are a few things we have in common with city folk.  For one, we like to have a good time just as much as anybody in Times Square.  If you read my blog Friday, you'll remember my mention of the party ball.  Well today we'll continue the party theme in honor of the holiday weekend.

I was talking with one of my saddle sisters the other day and she related a party idea that I just have to pass on to you.  Now we all know what 'pole dancing is'... right? Usually that phrase conjures up images of scantily clad exotic looking women dancing provocatively around a pole in the middle of a dance floor, or perhaps Demi Moore in her most infamous role from the movie 'Strip Tease'.  

But like I say, in the country, well sometimes you've just gotta improvise.  So here's an idea sure to straighten Martha Stewart's hair.  How about a party 'pole' or as we call them out here - a t-post? We can find more uses for a t-post than doctors found for Bayer aspirin.  Now I guess you COULD set up a real pole in your barn but I'd like to see you try to convince your dad it was a fire escape out of the hay loft.    Anyway, you just drive that t-post into the ground, cover it up and you've got yourself a genuine barn party pole.  (You out there from the country - this is not to be confused with a 'pole barn').

But here's something you should keep in mind. Let's say you get everybody there, and the alcohol and music start rolling. One by one a few of the girls decide to try their hand (sometimes leg) at pole dancing.  Suddenly there's more excitement than the time you and your boyfriend got caught skinny dipping in your uncle's pond by members of the First Baptist Church who showed up for a impromptu baptising.  

All's going good until your great Aunt Gertrude (who incidentally just stopped by to say hello after the pot luck dinner at the baptist church) gets to eyeballin' that pole.  Too late, you realize she's had two glasses of the trash can punch when with yells of encouragement from Uncle George and offers of dollar bills from your husband's two drunk buddies she hugs that pole like it's George Clooney.  There's an image you didn't need and you don't have enough alcohol to erase!

Just goes to show, we can have just as good a time as anyone from the city, we can do it on half the budget and end up needing just as much therapy (unless you're Uncle George).  

Saturday Morning Satire

Ahh.  Here we are another fine Saturday morning and on a holiday weekend at that!  I just spent the larger portion of my morning at a cross country meet cheering on my daughter.  I was so excited that I was yelling and cheering like a senior citizen cheerleader minus my pom poms. All that was missing was a cartwheel. And then it happened - with just one withering look she quickly reminded me it was a fine Saturday morning on a holiday weekend and SHE was sweating.  

At first my feelings were hurt but then I looked around and realized something:  I wasn't the only parent getting that look!  You know that 'look'.  It's a look we women learn as a teen and develop well into adulthood.  It's that look you get that tells YOU the answer to the question: "Honey, do these jeans make my butt look big?" You wondered where we learned it? Days like today, honey.  

I love going to events like cross country meets not to mention rodeos and playdays as they provide a great people watching opportunity.  One thing I've found in common is that we as parents (whether we want to admit it or not) do live vicariously through our children.  Events like this morning you overhear lots of the phrase "when I was a kid" and "kids these days don't train hard enough".  Really? Seriously?  How about YOU drop and give THEM 20... starting with that 20 pound party ball you've been carrying since college.  I know I'm fairly well in shape but I couldn't run 100 yards cross parking lot for a Macy's One Day Sale muchless run 2 miles cross country! 

It's no different with rodeo or playday parents either though.  That fence post's gonna split any second with all the wannabes and 'wish I were's perched on top.  (Remember the earlier blog story about how the fairy beer mother changed those 3 cowboys into bull riders?) Well when it comes to events like rodeos or playdays, fairy beer mothers are as busy as the tooth fairy at a little league hockey tournament.  

I realize today's issue isn't about dating and from time to time that may be the case.  At my age most single folks have kids and a lot even grandkids anyway so I think it fitting for an occasional children's story. 

In tomorrow's issue:  the country version of pole dancing.

Swingin' Saturday to all.

The Party Ball

What do you get when you cross a table of 3 blonds with a little alcohol? A lot of blog material! I really enjoy my Thursday night round tables with my pasture pals.  We all work very hard between our jobs, our families and, well, life; so we take a little time out for ourselves. Last night, we had even more ammunition - spouses at the table.  

As soon as the beer started flowing, so did the jokes (mostly about people NOT in our midst).  But there were a few local shots fired, too.  One that I thought was absolutely hysterical was during the conversation about working out.  You see, my pals are doing a fantastic workout several days a week and I applaud them for that.  My line of work means this is my busy time of year so I haven't partaken in that ritual yet. (Actually even though I handle horses, hay bales and horse feed for a living, I'm still afraid I'd embarrass myself and they'd end up using me as a exercise mat when I pass out!)  Anyway, as they chatted away about their work out using terms like 'px90' and 'zumba abs', the spouse of one of them boasted he didn't need to work out, he already had a six-pack... It had simply turned into a party ball! See what I mean about material?!

With this being a holiday weekend, lots of people are hosting parties, going to area lakes, camping out; the usual end of summer festivities.  One area lake however is off limits to swimming due to bacteria but they're encouraging people to 'come on out' anyway.  Now, could someone explain to me why you would WANT to go to the lake if you can't jump in?   That makes about as much sense as sending Paris Hilton to the mall without her credit cards.  

As for me, if I'm going to end my weekend horrifically ill, I prefer it be the result of alcohol-induced activities... You know - the kind that bring on that selective memory - where you selectively forget those things you did that you really wish you COULD forget but Facebook won't let you!

Happy Holiday Weekend to All!   

BARBED WIRE AND ROSES

One thing I've found to be the case, no matter what the locale is that if a woman's been done wrong by a man it's not whether you better watch out it's what you better watch out for.  Remember the saying "Hell hath no fury..."  Well, it's very true.  

In entertainment there's what's known as a 'triple threat' - someone who can sing, dance and act.  In the dating realm, there is also a triple threat.  How the trio presents itself depends on the location.  The common denominator, though, is in this instance trouble really does come in threes!  

Say for example we're talking about someone in North Dallas where there's more wealth and affluence. Guys take note here.  If you tell us you wanna be one-on-one you better not just be talking about basketball. Trust me, if it turns out you're double dribbling, I don't care how discreet you try to be, we have a radar for that that NASA would envy!   

Now what could a woman do to get even in that circumstance? Hmm. For one thing, I subscribe to the theory of you don't get even... you get everything.  Here's where the triple threat comes in.  In North Dallas, a triple threat may hit in the form of a tummy tuck, boob job and brow lift. (No, I have nothing against any of those procedures.)  Guys, we rarely feel better than when we see the look on your face as you realize that what you kicked to the curb looks better than what's on your bench now.

But what about the country girls? Don't count us out.  We have just as much grit and imagination as North Dallas or anywhere else; it's just different out here.  While we relish the thought we look better than what's riding shotgun in your truck now, sometimes we prefer the more pragmatic approach.  One example of our triple threat is the combo of brains, a keyboard and the internet.   I mean, who needs a plastic surgeon when you've got Facebook anyway?! 

So, guys, here's today's note to you: Remember how they use to say you can't outrun a cop's radar? Well, same thing goes here.  Looks fade but with the internet you just get more bandwidth.