Hey-Diddly-Dee, the Single Life's For Me!

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< Friday and dare I say it? YAY!

I am NOT going out.

Being single isn’t bad. Actually, I really like it. For the first time in my adult life, I am totally on my own. And happy to be so. Back on November 21st, 1979, I married the love of my life. The following November 2nd, 1980, our first child, my son, Joshua was born to us. Later in 1984, my lovely daughter, Charity, joined the family. I haven’t been alone since, but all children must grow up and be on their own, because dude. I only pay the way until you are out of college or turn eighteen and refuse to go to college.

So the year of 2007 was a mile marker. Divorced and with both of my children well on their way in life, most of my friends warned me and patiently waited for that “empty nest” syndrome to happen. Two years later, they are still waiting and wondering what the heck happened, because I never had that one. I totally missed it and don’t miss missing it.

One of the best parts of single life is watching all your married friends suffer. HA! I am having the best time in my life and you are still washing skid marks off the hubby’s underwear. Not only that, but I get to do whatever I want, whenever I want. (And I do that a lot!)

I have seven horses—eight, if you count the little yearling I just bought last week, but hasn’t been delivered yet. I also have three labradors, a kitty-boy-gang of four, two zebra finches, one ring neck dove, one goose, one gander and Punky Rooster and his six Chicklets. (And I LOVE my animal family. Not one single one of them EVER complains about what I am fixing for dinner. I have yet to hear ONE of my horses say… “WHAT? HAY for dinner AGAIN?!”)

But the truth of the matter is men are scared to death of me. Thus I live in relative peace.

Until Saturday nights roll around.

When I became a permanently single person, one of my dear (married) friends, decided that I needed to “get back into the swing of things,” so she gave me a gift subscription to that dating and mating site, “E-Harmony.” YIKES. The hell was she thinking?

I did the only thing that made sense. I cashed it in and immediately got a subscription to Cupid.com, because if I am going to mess with a man’s mind, it needs to be a mind that is in my local community and not half way across the world in Sri Lanka. I know what you are thinking.

Ooooh! You BAD girl, you!

And I am. But it is simply so much fun! And in reality, those men don’t give a toot. They are all just trying to get laid. And sorry, but they aren’t laying me. (Did I say that out loud?!)

So to add to my fun and adventures, I introduced my friend Sue to Cupid.com and we have been having a grand time. Well, actually SUE is having a grand time. I think the local community of men have pretty much figured me out. (You can only man bash in a small community so long before you get a … umm … reputation). And that is okay.

I live approximately fourteen miles from the town of Tombstone. Yep. You got it. I live right down the street from the actual Wyatt Earp/Kurt Russell town of Tombstone, the “town too tough to die.” The best thing about Tombstone is not the really bad actors at the OK Corral, but the local honky tonks there. They pretty much remain the same as it was back in the 1800s except that the bartenders seem to get younger and younger. But that is where you will find us on a Saturday night after payday. (We only do the payday weeks so we don’t look like flippin’ lushes. A girl has to protect what reputation she has left, you know!) What am I doing there? Why, I am the “chaperone” for Sue, so she doesn’t have to meet weird men from Cupid.com on her own. Oh joy.

It is ever so much fun going out with Sue. I love the way men trip over me, spilling their drinks in my lap, never taking their eyes off her, as they drool and try to say something original and witty, something that will make them stick in her mind, to never be forgotten. Most fail miserably. Somehow, drunk men in bars do not realize they are repeating the same phrase that forty other men before them just used. And I say most, because we do remember some. Mostly because after they are gone, we poke fun at them horridly.

A couple of Saturdays ago, I again was the “Chaparone” and unfortunately, the man she was meeting was someone I blasted and burst his ego when I met him on Cupid, B.S. (B.S. means Before Sue) Needless to say, he was a tad SHOCKED to see me there, but I think he handled it well. At least he didn’t pee his pants. And this poor guy is just one in a long line of wannabe suitors.

I begged off this weekend. So Sue is having to use another friend for the chaparone.

Me? Dude. After a nice leisurely trail ride down by the river, I am taking a long, hot bubble bath. Complete with rubber duckys, chocolate, a glass of wine and a good book.

Aaaahhhhhh….single life rocks!

Happy weekend, y’all!





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