Today, we saw a lovely sight.
We’re here in Big Sky Country. There is a lot of empty space here. Just empty prairie. Makes me get down on my knees and thank God all over again that I was never a pioneer wife. There’s a lot of goddamn work that would have gone into that business. It would have forced me into taking up the position of Village Whore. That’s way less work than cutting wheat and pounding it to make bread ‘n shit. Seriously, a girl can only do so much manual labor before it feels just as crappy as sit-ups, and that’s not the way I roll.
But today, we saw a lovely sight that came close to turning me into a prairie wife.
There was a cowboy working in the pasture. We drove by him on our way home from an early morning Starbuck’s run, which is the perfect metaphor for the situation. The city girl on her way home from a Starbuck’s run spied a cowboy working in the pasture and she found him captivating, similar to the way little girls are captivated by music boxes or things that sparkle.
He was wearing his Wranglers and his boots and his hat, with a fluorescent orange t-shirt. Had it been hunting season and were hunting allowed in the city limits mere feet away from a main road, that would have explained the fluorescent orange shirt. But it wasn’t, and it isn’t, so we’ll just have to chalk that shirt up to whatever other explanation we can conjure.
His arms were melanoma-brown and you know when he takes off that fluorescent thing, his shoulders and everything else from the waist up is pasty-ass white.
But a man in a pair of Wranglers can be forgiven for a pasty-ass white and melanoma-brown two-tone tan. I’m fairly sure he wouldn’t feel the need for forgiveness, but just in case he should, it’s there. Men are delicious in a pair of Wranglers.
I was ready to marry him for his Wranglers and his two-tone skin and his first-hand knowledge of hard work (a man’s man is still very sexy, politically incorrect though it may be), but mostly because he wasn’t a proud card-carrying member of the young professionals’ I-work-60-hours-a-week-for-a-senator-hence-I-am-more-important-than-you-club, his arsenal of pick-up lines wasn’t a string of psuedointellectual condescending negative remarks about obscure legislation or mid 18th-century Russian literature intended to prove he is intellectually superior and therefore sexy, and because he doesn’t consider a string of e-mails exchanged during the work day to be the equivalent of wooing a girl.
It’s possible none of these things are true. It’s also possible that he’s loaded down with a list of entirely different issues that wouldn’t fit on a 80 gig memory stick. Or that he’s missing teeth. I didn’t see his face. And yes, that would count against him.
But in the drive-by version of my romance with him, he’s a salt-of-the-earth cowboy who wears boots and Wranglers and cowboy hats and is concerned with things that matter, like insulating the house properly for a prairie winter and loving his wife.
In short, I fell in love with him for at least five seconds based on everything that he is not.
It was a lovely sight.
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Thank goodness we have instituted the matrix to find such men.
Because politically incorrect or not (and it shouldn’t be), sometimes even the most feminist amongst us just want a manly man. A man who wears jeans and can lift things and fix stuff and build fires.
Though I must admit that this is a recent revelation, perhaps brought to light by being in a town for years and years with a serious lack of any such thing, as you so eloquently describe what one is more likely to find here.
Whatever the reason, boys, where are you? Seriously.
I’m not a cowboy or a firefighter. I don’t cut down trees or work the earth.
I have two master degrees and an earned Ph.D. I know who I am.
If your car breaks down, I will come pick you up even in the rain. I may be in a cab, but I will see you safely to your door.
But, I am good to my kids, have an honest job, try to be civil to my ex, and am very willing to say “hey, pretty girl” the next morning. Will this work?
Mel, the key to any man is to make sure he has enough teeth that he can’t fit a whole chicken in between ‘em.
ray, you sound like my kind of guy. but can/will you kill a big ol’ hairy spider? i’m thinking that’s a major, true test of a man’s creds …
[total non-sequitar]
amelia, et al: where can i get a purple teddy bear vibrator like the one referenced yesterday?! i’ve been looking for a gift for my friend’s bday (after her dysfunctional bf dumped her & all) — i think i may have found just the perfect thing !
Neko
I am available for random hairy spider killing. I’m a peaceful man, but I’m willing to kill a few spiders to win a woman’s heart. I’m not afraid of the dark and I will save you some hot water–unless we are showering together.
Ray
Neko, I got mine at a regular old store. I saw one a toy party, too. Let me google around and get back to you.
mel, youre a goddess. { i tried googling “teddy bear” and “purple” and “vibrator” the other night and was overwhelmed by the tsunami of results. } so i’ll even just take the actual brand name of your bear buddy: i definitely need a personal recommendation from a pro like you, sis
….
Well, Midwestern, in Wyoming actually
Never thought Mela would come all the way across country to let me buy her a drink tho!
Neko, Mel hasn’t responded to you because she’s busy with her bear.
It is called “Pleasure Paws”. And, it’s not too expensive–major plus! Good luck!
Mel, I’m late to the party, but damn, girl, I wish you were here in Cowtown with me! The World’s Paint Horse Show is going, just minutes from my in-laws house, and the Wranglers are Everywhere!! Eye Candy Galore for this gal! My daughter is a huge horse fan, so of course, I’m obliged to take her…. mom is wearing her shades indoors, and 40 is not too old for wearing a bib. I put it inconspicuosly under my shirt…. Hot Damn, indeed.
Isn’t Montana Big Sky Country??
yo amelia, thanks for coming through in the clutch — Pleasure Paws are even on sale ! what started out as a bday gift for a friend has morphed into a prezzie for me, too (hey, it’s going to be a looong hot summer here in DC). THANKS, SIS !
I have been looking for a replacement pleasure paws for months. I am obsessed where did you find yours?