When it comes to love - you win some, you lose some, that's the way of love!
| Take A Walk…
Take a walk on SaraJane’s love side. Why, I’ve had so many loves throughout my life I can’t count em all – Mom, Dad, my sisters, Nelta, Dudy, Ava Dell – my cats Hadda and Penny. But, you know, there were loves in my life I should have left alone - like lovers, boyfriends, husbands, and most men in general.
I am by no means an expert in the ways of love and I’m not going to tell you how many times I’ve been married but two of ‘em are dead and that last one – well, I don’t know for sure, but I think he changed his name and entered the Witness Protection Program. I’ve been called the “Black Widow” and my daughter always made these catty remarks about my turning into another Joan Collins. I always thought I would follow in my grandmother, Mama Belle’s footsteps. She was married 5 times and once to a blind man.
I don't have dates or boyfriends – I either live with ‘em or marry ‘em. Oh, sure, I did have some run-ins with casuals from time to time. Those are ones I’ve really not mentioned to anyone. Like the guy who didn’t have any teeth and never wore his dentures – he just gummed me a lot - or the one so skinny that every time we made love I squashed him making him gasp for air. At the time I thought I was really exciting him. It wasn’t until I saw his eyes bug out and his face turn red that I realized I wasn’t exciting him at all.
But, I tell you what, I had the time of my life but not quite sure all my ex-husbands would agree 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 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 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 ‘em 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 to them – some albums are old and tattered and others are so new that the binder cracks when I open it. I do thumb through them ever so often to get a glance at my past 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 the county office had to give me a separate drawer. They labeled it the “H Drawer” because each and every one of my ex-husband’s last name had an “H’ somewhere in it. I’ve changed my name so many times but I didn’t have to give up a single monogrammed thing because my initials stayed the same - even going back to my maiden name.
Nowadays when I meet a man 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 a name starting or ending with other letter of the alphabet from now on.
My minister brother-in-law has “married” me twice. Bet your sweet bippy he won’t be marrying me again, I guarantee you that. Those marriages 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 rite. 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 truck load, a plane load, and a cruise ship full of ‘em. 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 ‘em. Men are what make our hearts go pitter patter and our pulse race like a Russian racehorse. A gentle stoke or a hard one if you’re into that sort of thing are what most of us long for. Thank you, men of the world, who have perfected that stroke that make us swoon swaying like a pine tree blowing in the wind with our eyeballs closed - mm, mm, good - ain’t nothing like it.
I tell you what, I should know all about those strokes by now, reckon? I’ve certainly had enough of ‘em to tell you all about it. Mark that down in your little daybook.
Until next time…..take a walk on SaraJane’s love side.