I have always loved that Big & Rich Song..it combines the fun of down home country music with sex appeal...well, that is if you happen to be into cowboys, which I am. Or at least I thought I was, until my latest life in the fast lane adventure. And, to be honest, it isn't cowboys I am not infatuated with anymore but aging wanna be cowboys who I believe happen to be friends with Tank (my 1st Sugar Daddy offer). Yes, there is a story here...of course there is!
Going through a separation is hard for anyone, believe me, I know, and going through one you didn't want nor ever expect is even harder. So, when a good friend recently found herself in this situation, we all rallied and immediately fell into good girlfriend mode...which is code for "whatever she wants, whenever she needs it, however crazy it sounds..." Okay, well, maybe there is a limit to the level of crazy but you know what I mean...she shouldn't sit home and obsess about why life has handed her this hand right now and who better to help her occupy her time than her fun friends?
Weekends are always tough, especially when your kids have plans and you are contemplating a Friday night in front of the TV, watching too gorgeous for words couples fawn all over each other while you, yourself, are alone, eating potato chips right out of the bag...and then hating yourself for the grease stain you now have on your t-shirt and the extra 30 minutes you'll have to work out tomorrow to make up for your affair with the Ruffles. It is one's responsibility as a girlfriend to stage the intervention before the next outing is to the mall to buy bigger sizes with elastic waist bands. And, really, a night of country music in our area's cowboy heaven sounded good to me...so we were off.
As we were greeted by a bar full of Jack Daniels and an arena housing a mechanical bull, I figured this night could be both very entertaining and exactly what the doctor ordered...for both of us! Since I was driving, I had my one Jack & Diet early in the evening and did think, that while the bull was my 1st step to the other side during my transition from Alex, this may not be the best idea for someone who has rods in her leg so bypassed the bull and found the group we were meeting up with. I knew none of these people but hey, they love country music and were enjoying the gorgeous CA night, so hey, they were good for me.
In my white halter top, capri jeans and high heeled wedged sandals I was feeling cute but not worthy of turning heads that night so figured it could be all about the GF time. We laughed, we talked and then we met some guy named Mr. O (not kidding!). Now considering my life has not included too many big O's in the recent past, I immediately thought of Big O tires...yeah, I need help. Well, Mr. O, complete with a 10 gallon hat and the Texas flag disguised as a button up long sleeve shirt was probably very nice...and would make some woman very happy...well, maybe not, considering he mentioned his wife and his girlfriend in the same sentence. But, he was definitely not what either of us were looking for that evening. He, however, didn't quite get that and, after bragging to me that he supplies the strippers for the Hells Angels on their week long excursions to Hawaii he wanted to know if I'd go with him next time. As a stripper? I'm thinking no...I don't even take my clothes off unless the mood lighting consists of absolute darkness...and, even then I tell whoever I happen to be with "you can touch here and here...avoid the stomach, the thighs, the back...heck...just don't touch!" I laugh and say, "I'm a mom with 2 kids, jetting off to Hawaii isn't in the cards right now". I don't want to be rude but really?! His response "I'll get a sitter for them...don't worry. How about Vegas? We can fly out tonight. I'll get a private jet". Again, seriously?!
What is it about me that screams "Hey crazy man! Offer to fly me, drive me, take me away with you, please?!". Is it my shampoo? I'll change it! It can't be my clothes because I have on more than many of the chicks here. I don't get it...and was starting to think maybe riding the bull again would be less hazardous to my health than staying with Mr. O when I was saved by the ringing of the bell...well, saved by the ring would be more appropriate, as his wife walked up because she needed a drink. I almost kissed the woman...both in appreciation for rescuing me and also in sympathy because really, her husband is nuts. We quickly took advantage of the assist and walked away...as far and as fast as we could.
I have decided this is, in same way, karma...but unfairly directed at me. My grandma used to joke that we needed to find a rich old man with one foot in the grave and a cough...it was a joke...not dating advice or fortune telling. However disturbing that experience was, the night did serve it's purpose...my friend laughed, enjoyed, and forgot her troubles for a few hours at least. And, hey, outside of Mr. Anti-O, there were some really hot cowboys there so for viewing purposes alone, I will be returning...so, stay tuned.
take me with you! Dating post-divorce is an adventure to say the least. I've spent the spring and summer on a dating spree, from 22 to 54. The numbers do not indicate maturity level AT ALL. I've had some really good dates, some odd ones and 1 that stopped before it even started. That one . . . he sent me a picture showing me how excited he was to see me. Oh yeah.
ReplyDeleteYou are't alone in the world of dating!