Post Valentine's Blues: Or What a Great Time With Crackie

Y'all, ain't that cute?  Bennie begging for something from his treat bowl.   Nothing's cuter than that, other than a 2 day long date with Crackie.  Sigh.

We had a blast since he rolled into town.  Gabbing, hiking, dining out, cooking in, long intellectual discussions until two in the morning, guffawing and beer sipping, sarcasm and watching tons of Northern Exposure followed by deep, meaningful talks, interesting discussions about our travels over 2013.  Then there was copious hand holding, one deep-kiss, and lots of snuggling and footsies.

But like always, he's blown back outta town.  He did say a few alarming things: like, how he just ought to settle down with me, fall in love, be with me for the rest of his life. 

 What was that, you gasp?

"You haven't told him you've been dating other people?" Dooders asked. 

Well, no.

"What about his committment-phobia?" JJ asked.  Good point, I thought.  Maybe, he's now seen what he's been missing?

Talk is cheap.  It ain't over til it's over.  Until a guy puts a ring on my finger, IF I allow it, it's not over until I say so.

There's still Shawn, my old student's uncle's friend from the gym, who's cute as hell and as nice as can be, and there's still my little Wyoming artist/singer prince.

Stay tuned, kiddies.

Cute Wyoming Artist Cowboy Singer

Nothing says cute like this little singin' cowboy I met at rally last year.

Unless it's this  CUTE Wyoming, has-a-good-job-artist-musician that I've met.

He has this beautiful, boyish side to him, who keeps charming me.  When he sings to one of his guitar songs and dedicates it to me, he reminds me of a young Elvis without all the drama.  So dag-gummed nice--OMG, I just said that?  I keep wondering, when's the other shoe gonna drop?  When am I gonna find out he has a major mental illness, or an addiction, is a midget, missing teeth, right wing nut job?

But church, morals, his family mean something to him.  This would normally remind me of self-righteousness, people who deem, aesthetics, art, philosophy, hipness, counter-culture, to be sinful.  But he just strikes me as, well, genuine, and kind, and I don't run into that much anymore.

The plot thickens.  And I'm intrigued.  Stay tuned.

Don't worry.  Things won't get boring, and Deadwood Dick is still texting me entertainingly stupid texts, so there's enough braying donkeys, myopic sots, and other Tom Fooleries in my life to keep everything comical. I've got your backs, kiddies.