End of the Year, Dude and Dud Patrol

Puttchanesca.  Low carb because it was spiralized.  Just one of 2014's better meals.

Now, we're getting ready to roll in the new year.  And roll out some old dudes.

No word from Crackie.  Surprising.  Not.  Nebraska Guy who owns his own electrical business BUT took me out for a wonderful dinner earlier this month has gone AWOL, too.  So typical.  So boring.  So flaky.

However two new dudes, rolled in via my internet site.  One is one who asked me out about a year ago and lives surprise, surprise, in Wyoming.

Wyoming Theory goes as follows.

The good dudes who are from western South Dakota are all married or losers.  The marrieds are snapped up immediately after college.  The losers remain here.  Western South Dakota has very few good paying jobs, so the single smart guys who are not losers, go and work either west, in oil fields of Wyoming or north in the energy business of North Dakota. There's a shit ton bunch of them.

Hence, Dean (why not use real names?) is texting me.  He's in the energy business.  These energy guys are all hot, but they all seem flaky too.  Just like Greg, his real name, (aka Wildcat) who's in the energy biz in North Dakota (see a few blogs back), who still occasionally texts me, constantly replying, "I need to make time to come down and meet you," but never does because he's always flying off to Montana on his off days to ride horses at some friend's ranch or flying instead to Georgia to spend time with his kids and grandkids (noble, but why kid yourself and chicks like me that you have time to date?).  WTF.

So it's not boring.  But nothing ever seems to come of it.

The other day I texted Energy Bill (aka, "Deadwood Dick"), "We have been texting for going on a year.  This is RIDICULOUS.  Let's meet or forget it."  He texted back, "Yes, we will  You're right."  But then I haven't heard from him since.

See where this is going?

It gets OLD.  More later.

Crackie's Back and other Oddities

Doooders, sent me a pic a while back of the old, abandoned Maid Rite from college daze, looking exactly the way it did 25 years ago.  Thanks, Doooders.

This pic is also a good metaphor for my dating life right now.

I can't believe I didn't write at all last month.  But, hey, I've got a second job these days, so I've been busy.

However, December is looking up.  I had TWO dates, one with New Guy and the other with Crackie.

Yes, Crackie's back.  Like always, full of drama.  This time he blew into town with a blown-out ACL and wearing a leg brace, and a broken wrist and temporary cast.  When he's manic, he's wildly entertaining and wildly clumsy too.

Besides flying to Hawaii for a few months last winter and hangin' with Woody Harelson, camping in Wisconsin and hanging out with the CEO's of Naturally Organic, spending rally with the Hell's Angels, it's just another day in the life for Crackie.  Oh, and he bought a three bedroom house for only a grand, providing he moves it off the land onto his property out on the prairie.  Who finds houses for under a grand?  Leave it to him to find an original Salvador Dahli, first edition of Gone With the Wind, houses for under a grand, valuable motorcycles for next to nothing.

Never a dull moment.  He brought me my Xmas present, gorgeous hand carved antique tribal book bookends from Hawaii.  He wined and dined me, and like always, we held hands, kissed, but like always, it never went any further and he spent two nights on the twin bed in the basement.

Crackie.  If only he didn't have bi-polar and depression.  Because when he's on a high, he's a million laughs, as addictive as Anthony Bourdain, a three ring circus.  Crackie even looks like a muscular version of Anthony Bourdain--sarcastic, intelligent, tall, dark, brooding and handsome.

At one point he said, "Dad and I were talking the other day.  He said, 'Why don't you find a good hearted woman and just settle down here out along the prairies?  Find a woman who'd like living out in the boonies.'"  Then he looked at me, "Would you like that?" 
"Hell, yeah," I said.  I mean this is me, the original pioneer woman.
"You mean that?  You'd like that kind of lifestyle?" he asked.
"Well, hell yeah.  Are you effin kidding me?"  Then I wondered what is he asking of me?  Crackie, the guy who broke my heart in 2011 by just up and disappearing on me when he hit a low in his bi-polar.  Could I really trust him?

I told JJ all this, and she said, "If you could be with the New Guy or Crackie, who would you choose?  Who do you really want to be with if you could choose?"  I saw where she was going with this.

New Guy is kind of boring.  But he's stable.  Owns his own electrical business.  I don't know him very well, but it appears he's stable and mentally healthy.  Crackie's track record isn't good.  He's never been married.  Engaged only once, but he broke it off.  He's got bi-polar AND depression, high blood pressure, and semi-diabetic.  But there's fire between us, intellectual chemistry and passion.  We stay up all night discussing the universe, Northern Exposure, Alaska, EPA regulations, wildlife.  We can talk hours about travel and philosophy and books.

But I'm not stupid.  He's on disability.  New Guys owns a business, represents stability.  I'm not a romantic child-woman, stuck proverbial in her mental 20's.  No, I'm a grown woman.  It's complicated.

Sigh.  More later.