A Bad Man Once or Twice

Happy Valentine’s Day my friends.

Recently, my life has been getting in the way of my blogging.  I have overloaded my plate once again, and if I have one more commitment added, I think I’ll internally combust. 
Right now I am supposed to be running seven miles, training for a half marathon that I so foolishly signed up for, but the wind is howling and I’m not doing it.  I’m not.  Instead I’m blogging.  And eating sunflower seeds.  And drinking chocolate milk.  Ah, the simple pleasures in life. 

Jason is in a cooking mood.  Tonight he’s preparing veal chops.  Baby calf.  Speaking of baby calves, on the way to Sunday school, my niece Ashlynn commented that it smelled like the baby calf’s bottle.  It was just my hands.  I had rubbed on some Bert’s Bees Wax milk and honey lotion and coincidentally, it smelled like cow udders.  Nice.

And my brain is like a ball of yarn.  I chase rabbits occasionally.

I’ve had a whole week’s worth of blog posts planned to lead into Valentine’s day, and haven’t had 2 seconds to sit and write this week. 
In honor of the blessed day of love, I give you this quote: 

“A woman’s got to love a bad man once or twice in her life to be thankful for a good one.” 

And I have a good one, let me tell you.  He’s the best. 

And I’ve had one or two bad ones too.

I didn’t marry until I was 29 years old.  In that amount of time I had about three dates.  One was forgetful, but that quote jogged my memory of the other two.

I met this guy one time at a hockey game.  He asked me on a date.  I don’t know why I said yes, because he was about eight and a half feet tall and we looked like Mutt and Jeff.  He wore a black cowboy hat and said yes ma’am.   We lived in two different towns.  When he called me on the phone, he said he’d like to take me to the cowboy church.  Well, isn’t that sweet?  A good guy finally.  I don’t remember all the details, because I’m low in B12 and I found out at my doctor’s this week that if untreated long enough, it can lead to dementia, which I think I’ve surpassed.  But somehow we met up.

Now don’t get me wrong, I thought going on a first date to church was a bit odd, but I was  looking for a good Christian man and figured it just might be the will of the Lord.  You know how sometimes he screams things at us?  So we went to the Cowboy Church.  His dad sat with us.  As far as I remember it was a good message.  When it was over, we were going to get something to eat.  Well come to find out, he and his dad had Chinese buffet every Saturday night after church.  So we went and had chinese……with his dad.  Okay,  now it was just way weird.  Tex didn’t have much to say anyway, his dad didn’t either. I don’t recall saying too much myself.   I kind of felt like a third wheel ruining their regular Saturday night ritual.  Seems to me, Tex could’ve told his dad that he was having a date and needed to be alone, but perhaps he was too shy to have a date by himself.  I’m not sure, and I didn’t stick around long enough for him to poke his head out of his shell.

I met this other guy at a baseball game.  (I’m making myself out to sound like some sort of a sports nut, and that’s the farthest from the truth.)  He was a handsome devil, and in law enforcement.  A dangerous combination I agree.   He invited me to go on a motorcycle ride with him.  So the next day, I climbed on, helmetless, and he took me down some crazy back roads I’d never been before.  The whole time I was thinking of all those 20/20 episodes I’d seen where killer cops had never been found guilty.  We finally stopped on some desolate road in an obscure location by some water.  I had no idea where we were.  He proceeded to pull out a six pack of beer from the back of his motorcycle and drank all six in a matter of 30-40 minutes and then, we got back on that motorcycle with no helmets, and CHiP drove 100 mph home as I prayed the entire time. 

At one point, he took his shirt off and forced me to stare at his hairy gorilla back that he thought was tan and muscular.  It was tan and muscular from what I could tell when his hair wasn’t blowing up my nose.  Then he actually said the following words to me…….these words actually came out of his mouth……..”if I have any zits back there, go ahead and pop them.” 

Really y’all, I can’t make this kind of stuff up.

After that I locked myself in my house and never answered the phone again. 
Until Jason called. 
That’s tomorrow’s story.


  1. Anonymous says:

    Good Grief!!!!! No wonder you waited till 29 to get married!!!


  2. Beth Casas says:



  3. Jolea says:

    This is still one of my all time favorite blogs…it makes me laugh out loud!


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