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.