It’s Saturday night and you’re cradling the jumbo bag of Doritos, remote in hand with enough empty beer bottles to start your own booth at the next fair. You ask yourself the same old question. “What does she see in him?” Is he really smoother than a fresh jar of Skippy?
The answer is much more simple than you think. You see, “He” is confident. He believes in himself. Sure you have a great job, nice car and maybe even own your own home. You sound like a great catch on paper. The problem is mating instincts are primal. Ever wonder why big booties are all the rage? The answer is birthing hips. See, it’s primal. Logic has no place in the dating world.
Choosing a mate is rarely ever done with careful planning. Something in our hardwire tells us to find the one we would do battle with. If you’re going to wage a war on this thing called life you choose the mate with confident stance and sword drawn. He is a bit narcissistic but never needs coddling. This is a recipe for disaster should wedding bells ring but she is not thinking that far ahead. Honestly, she is not thinking at all. Something in her center draws her to him like bears to honey.
Your answer in a nutshell: Confidence is sexy. So, ditch the Netflix and hit the gym. Throw on some leather, rev your engine and grunt. This is why she dates the “Bad Boys”.
*All above opinions have not been scientifically researched nor proven to be true. Said scientists were last seen in the gym flexing and grunting.
Daily Prompt: Smooth
Single. There was a time in my twenties this word would have terrified me. Now, I am embracing it. Relationships, I’ve had a few. I use to regret some but know I’m thankful for the experience. Oh sure, I probably could have lived without ever having a gun pointed at me or having someone spit in my face but even those weren’t all bad. No one is all bad.
Today I am happy. No one yells at me. No one tells me what I can or can’t do. I am flying solo and finding a little peace on earth.
I amaze myself daily. I take on projects now knowing that there is no one to back me up. Yes, it’s scary sometimes but you just keep moving forward.
Today I can laugh at some of the crazy things I did in an effort to please a man:
1. Stumble to the kitchen every morning for years because he can’t possibly arise without an obsequious woman serving him coffee in bed.
2. Give up gum because any woman who pops a piece of Wrigleys is obviously a “gum smacking whore.”
3. Glaze 45 windows because he can’t do repetition.
4. Pick up an exconvict from a 10 year stay in a maximum security prison. (I know, I was shocked when he informed me of this duty.)
5. Pour a concrete sidewalk around the house by myself because his back was out.
6. Process three deer in one day.
7. Can tomatoes from 45 tomato plants. Seriously, that’s about nine hundred pounds of tomatoes.
8. Make 7 different banana puddings in an effort to find one that pleases him. As you can guess, none were perfect enough.
The list may be endless but my willingness to participate was not. I guess I always believed if I tried hard enough the sun would shine on me. Well, suck it up buttercup because “fair” is a place for cotton candy and monkey poop.
I prefer to say I’m single instead of divorced. Divorced sounds so broken. I am not broken. I was. I felt like shattered glass. I refuse to lie in peices. I took the broken shards and fused them. Now I’m a Tiffany!
Ms. Nancy from Clarksdale Mississippi shuffles over to hover around Uncle Charles as he picks at today’s lunch. Since Uncle Charles is the only white man left in this wing that can still walk, many of the women assume he is their spouse. Now, I should probably tell you first that Ms. Nay-an-see is from Clawks-day-yell Miss-uh-sip-pee. She’s an old southern bell with a twist. Ms. Nancy is wearing her hot pink capris backwards today and her zebra striped tennis shoes are on the wrong feet. She hones in on me to let me know that the Minister gave the finest sermon this morning over at Clarksdale Baptist. Ms. Nancy does not know she is in Tennessee. She tries to place me and decides I must have lived over on School Street. Before I could get away my chin was grasped in her tiny hand as she declares that I am the most precious thing ever.
I tried to encourage Uncle Charles to eat as he is down to all bones these days. He carefully places a little square of hamburger bun on his spoon and raises it to his mouth. It plops to his lap but Ms. Nancy is ready. She grabs a napkin and reaches for his lap when she stops in midair. She turns to me and says “Honey, you better get that as I do not wish to get slapped today.”
Aunt Tiny is oblivious to the flirtation happening with her husband just one table over. It really doesn’t matter as he is oblivious too. Ms. Helen yells out “IT’S NOT MY FAULT!” Uncle Charles glares at her so she throws in a loud “BASTARD!” He is fuming now though he does not know why. He tells Ms. Helen to shut her damn mouth. The sweet little elderly ladies at the Manor have become foul mouth balls of anger. They spit out words they would have never said before.
We decorated Aunt Tiny’s room though she would not sit with us today. She did thank us for coming by but she really had to go. She grabbed Uncle Charles and began her pacing up and down the hall. She does this every day. I don’t think they knew who we were today. Sometimes I think a faded memory passes by but it is too muddled to sort through.
I do not wish to wait for God in this manner.
He walked up and down the River Market careful not to linger anywhere too long so as not to be called a vagrant or a nuisance. His hair was matted and his black jeans were caked with brown. He passed many people on his strolls but all turned away. He is not part of our world. He wanders as a ghost in a land he does not belong. We sat in a restaurant and I watched as the world avoided his presence. I had my camera and longed to take his picture. He was gone when we stepped out from our fulfilling lunch. His belly empty except for the remnants of last night’s cheap whiskey.
They say children don’t come with instructions but I have learned, neither do the elderly. Do you laugh? Cry? Maybe you should just pet the damned elephant in the back yard. For many years I teased my Mother because our family is notorious for not talking about the elephant in the room. Then one day out of the blue folks got old. The ones I grew up following around like a puppy suddenly don’t know who I am. It’s OK though. Apparently they don’t know who they are either.
The people I spent my summers with throughout my childhood are but standing shells now. It occurred to me yesterday that they will probably never get to come home again. The home they have lived in for as far back as my memory goes now stands as a reminder of lives gone. My brother and I spent endless hours with a deck of cards carefully creating houses in her perfectly plush carpet. She taught me the joys of a good dress shop. I know, I speak as if they’re in the ground though they still walk this earth. The ones I knew are gone now. In their place stands haunting bones with mouths to speak but not a memory left. I will not torment myself with hope.
When my Granny faced this challenge it was these two who saw her through to the end. She tore paneling from the walls, made pies with no sugar and left bruises on her caregivers as they desperately tried to keep her dignity. Now they walk in her shoes. Dignity is no where to be found in those who spent their lives keeping up appearances.
So, what have I learned? If you work hard and save your pennies it will all be taken for your medical care. You will be cruel to the ones who love you most. One morning you wake up with a mission on your mind. You throw on some jeans under your gown tail, chunk a bra in your purse and of course an olive oil cruet. Jump in your car and start driving until you can no longer remember how. The fighting spirit is still in there though you have no idea what you’re fighting for. Whatever you do, don’t forget to feed the concrete statues in your yard before you leave.
Yeah, dementia sucks.
I like to scream to relieve stress. It freaks out the callers a bit but they should know better than to call when I’m busy. I’m learning to organize better though. I have piles for everything. There’s the “Got more problems than I got time for” pile. The “Doable and hope to get to real soon” pile. The “They want me to do some extra stuff” pile. And of course the “This is what’s in front of me so I’m gonna work on this” pile.
I started with sticky notes everywhere and I’ve upgraded to copy paper covered in “URGENT” notes. “Can not forget these things.”
Never fear though, I can do anything. I actually really like this job. It’s just that I spend most days chasing my own tail. I feel like a squirrel on espresso.
Mornin’ Y’all! Pearl woke me up at 6:30 this morning with slobbery kisses. She had determined that I had slept too long. She’s pretty sure she knows what’s best for me.
Yesterday I took the chi’s for a long walk down main street. As usual we bumped into complete strangers that Pearl insisted should scratch behind her ears as in accordance with the prophecy. So, I got to thinking. (I know, it’s a dangerous path for me to take.) Anyway, how does this silly little dog manage to be adored by complete strangers? What is it about her that makes the neighbor’s kid jump the fence to come pet her?
I think it’s because she knows when to keep her mouth shut. (A trait I have yet to master.) Sure she whines when she’s hungry or needs to potty but she never makes small talk. I see her thinking sometimes. She’ll just stare into space and I would love to know what is going through her little brain but she never shares. She keeps her private thoughts to herself. You can never disagree with her views as she will not tell you what they are.
Life would probably be better if I were more like Pearl. Just keep my trap shut and greet everyone like they were the best thing I’ve seen all day. It only takes a wag of her tail to make people smile.
Yesterday an old man pulled to a screeching halt in the middle of the road. He rolled down his window and yelled “How much will you take for one of them?” I responded “About 3 million dollars”. He laughed and drove away.
I wish I had her gift of making people happy.
I stepped on the scales this morning after a long hiatus from them and I was pretty sure it was broken. So, I stepped off then stepped back on again. It still gave me the same number. Hmmm……I then made my husband get on the scales to prove they were broken. He says they work fine. A$$hole.
For supper I had cabbage and a 3 mile walk at 4.5 mph. Tomorrow I’m going to binge on a head of lettuce.