Take A Walk On My Love Side

        Take a walk on my love side.  Why, I’ve had so many loves throughout my life I can’t count them all – Mother, Daddy, sisters Nelta Orlene, Judy Ann, Ava Dell – even my cat, Hadda.  But, you know, there were loves in my life that just shouldna oughta been – like lovers, boyfriends, husbands, and just some men in general. 

        I am by no means an expert in the ways of love.  Hence, the number of times I’ve been married but I dare not say how many times.  All I'll say is two of them are dead and that last one, well, I don’t know for sure but I think he changed his name and entered into the Witness Protection Program. I’ve been called the “Black Widow” and my daughter keeps telling me I could turn into another Joan Collins if I didn’t watch it. 

        I didn’t have dates and I didn’t have boyfriends – I either lived with them or married them. Oh, sure, I did have some run-ins with casuals from time to time.  Those are just the ones I dare not mention.  Like the guy that didn’t have any front teeth and never wore his dentures – he just gummed me a lot – or the one who was so skinny that every time we made love I squashed him making him gasp for air.  At the time I thought I was really showing him a good time. 

        But, I tell you what, I've had the time of my life although not quite sure all my ex-husbands would say the same and they aren’t around to ask. My Daddy always said some people live and learn and some people just live. I always got the “you’re just living, gal” added every time he referred to me. He just didn’t know I was giving men the run for their money – or the run for their lives. 

        Charlene Frazier on “Designing Women” was being dumped once by Air Force Colonel Bill Stillfield and said, “I’ve been run over by this train before.” I tell you what, I’ve been run over by that train so many times I’m flatter than a pancake.

        I have so many wedding gowns in my closet that I could start a bridal shop complete with veils, garter belts, and leftover corsages, bouquets, buttoners. When my daughter married, I just blew the dust off a couple of them for her to use. I just hope she isn’t starting her own collection.

        I have so many different wedding albums that I dedicated the entire last row of my bookshelf for them – some are old and tattered while others are so new the binder cracks when I open it.  And I do open them to get a glimpse at my past ever so often even if I grimace when I do.  One never needs to forget where one has been. 

        I have so many marriage licenses, divorce licenses, and death certificates that the county office had to give me a separate drawer. They just labeled it the “H Drawer” because each and every one of my ex-husband’s last name had an “H’ somewhere in it.

        Even though I’ve changed my name many, many times I didn’t have to give up a single monogrammed thing because my initials stayed the same throughout them all – including my maiden name. 
       
        When I meet a man now who has an “H” anywhere in his name – first, middle, or last – I run like the dickens for his sake as well as mine. Give me a man with any part of his name beginning or ending with any other letter of the alphabet from now on. 

        My minister brother-in-law has “married” me twice.  Bet your sweet bippy that he won’t be marrying me again I guarantee you that.  For some reason, those marriages just didn’t stick and I really don’t know why.  Maybe it’s because he said the same rites over and over again only changing the names of the grooms to make it fit  - kinda like a form letter.  My brother-in-law had to start his own drawer for me as well. 
       
        My girlfriend and I used to men bash all the time with “I wouldn’t give you a dime for a carload full of men.”  We went through a planeload full of ‘em, a cruise ship full of ‘em and it wasn’t until we couldn’t think of what the next biggest thing was that we stopped giving men such a hard time. 

        Now don’t get me wrong – I adore men.  Men are the best thing since sliced bread.  The Good Lord knew what He was doing with some of  them. Men are what make our hearts go pitter patter and our pulse pump like a Russian racehorse.  A gentle stoke, or a hard one if you’re into that sort of thing, is what most of us long for.  Thank you, men of the world, who have perfected that stroke to make us swoon, our eyeballs close shut, and our bodies sway like a fig tree blowing in the wind - mm, mm, good – just ain’t nothin’ like it. 

        I tell you what, I should know all about those strokes by now, don’t you think?  I’ve certainly had enough of them to tell you all about it.  Mark that down in your little daybook. 

        Until next time…..take a walk on my love side.

                ....take care....SaraJane