Knights on Paint Horses
I have been absent, exploring new possibilities. I have been acting like I am 18 again and losing out on a lot of sleep. The reason is laying at the other end of my couch right now, feet in boots, propped on my coffee table, sleeping and snoring off and on. He is country. He is old-school and knows how to work hard. He gets me, and we make each other laugh until our guts hurt and tears run out of our eyes. He talks tough, and has been brave enough to get on the back of a bull, but speaking of his son, or his grandpa, almost never fails to bring a tear to his eye. He drinks Bud Light like it’s water, but never raises his voice at me in anger. He looks at me like he can’t believe he was lucky enough to meet me. It was instantaneous. The day before I met him I had told my mom and a friend of mine that the internet dating thing was making me sick, and that I needed a simple man who had some fucking morals. There he was the very next night. He didn’t ride a horse in, but he does own one.