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I have been widowed for 2 years, 2 months, and 10 days.
These are my morning thoughts on that subject, as explained to some well meaning friends:
And then there are the men my so called friends keep fixing me up with.
Ha, what a crock!
"He has nose hairs. Yuck, I don't want to be looking at nose hairs. He either can't see them, hence nearly blind, or doesn't care, hence poor hygiene, so yuck."
"He has a paunch hanging over his belt, so poor eating habits, or no exercise, and I choose to not cook, so not going to waste my time helping him get back on a good eating track. Nope."
"Yuck, mismatched wrinkled clothes. Nope, I got enough clothes to last three weeks, not going to do laundry for him."
"He has a loud booming voice, thus he can't hear, or he enjoys being the center of attention...so, nope to that, too..."
And then there are those who choose to call to see if they can just stop by for a visit, or do I want company, or would I like to go to the local greasy spoon for a burger...Nope, not that either.
And we have one of the few drive in movies left in the country, and do I want to go to the drive in to catch the latest, and listen to him snore his way through while I sit in a hot car with absolutely no steamed up windows and mosquitoes buzzing around my head...nope.
And would I like to go to the new show at the theatre, he has season tickets, and maybe dinner after, well, no, because I also have season tickets too, and mine are much better than his and I don't like sitting that close to anybody.
There is one though, whom I do like as a friend, and the only thing that drives me nuts is that he perceives me as "such a little thing"...as if I need to be coddled like a child. Sheeeesh. But he does cut my grass occasionally, with nothing in return, and when I told him I'd make him a home made pizza, he said no thanks, he was trying to lose 12 pounds so he was on Nutrisweet. Yep, my kinda man, cuts my grass and leaves me alone. But when he says, "you should not be moving those rocks, they are too heavy for you," I might just haul off and throw one of those heavy rocks at him. Which would immediately spread around the neighborhood that I am a wild old woman with not a grain of sense in her curly head. Which would not be far from the truth.
But at the moment, just don't fix me up with anybody, and don't suggest that I go out lookin' for a male friend. That's what I mean when I say I enjoy my own company, and if they know what's good for them, they'll know I am no longer good company for them either.
All that because I just got a call from the one who likes greasy hamburgers. Sheesh. I gave him my cholesterol lecture, since he is a few years younger than I am and might still have muscles. Doubt if he will call back anytime soon, unless senility is gaining ground and he forgets my lecture. And that's another subject, senility. God love 'em, they think we can't live without 'em.
God's Warrior
I just loved that article! Thank you so much for posting it for us to enjoy. You are just a laugh a minute, my friend.
