Look what I got from marlboro dot com! They let me design my own cattle brand. I’m not sure what to do with it, but I’ve been coloring it.
Sometimes what the neighbors think is just ridiculous. I have another story for you.
Years ago, when I was going to college the last time, we were all in our mid-late-twenties. One day between classes, between buildings, I came face to face with the tallest woman I have ever known. She must have been 6’2" or so. I’m used to looking down whenever I’m looking at a woman. She was different, just about eye to eye. She was attractive, in a way, but mainly it was her size that got my attention. She wasn’t skinny. She had more meat on her bones than I did. Back then I weighed 180. But she wasn’t fat, either. She just had pretty much everything bigger than what I was used to seeing.
She also had a good sense of humor, a free-spirited sort of woman, and we got along pretty well. She was cool. We started seeing each other. She was living at her grandparents’s farm at the time. I remember once she showed me this place down in a canyon where she liked to go skinny dipping and nude sunbathing. She wasn’t shy. I figured hey, if you can do it, I can do it, I’m not shy either. She was really fun.
After we all graduated, she had planned to do some post-graduate work. The school where she had been accepted was in Oklahoma. At the time, I was just working for five dollars an hour. I didn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel yet or anything, so I figured hey, she’s gotta do what she’s gotta do. I didn’t think I should stand in her way. Literally, even. So she went to Oklahoma and I did not hear from her for seven years.
I finally got the job of my dreams, or so I thought, and I moved, and I moved again into this barn here. I went through some crazy times that I hope never to repeat. One day after things had quieted down a bit, I was looking through an address book and found her old phone number. It was the number at her grandparents’s farm. I called and got their answering machine. I explained who I was, and that they might remember me, and that I had not heard from her in a long time, and wondered how she was doing, and I left my new phone number. She must have got that message because a few months later she called, and this is what she had been doing all this time.
She got her master’s degree in Oklahoma and started a career in the health care industry down in Modesto. She had met a guy, a younger guy, about ten years younger, and that didn’t seem to be a problem so they got married. They had two sons. While she was giving birth to the second son in the hospital, her husband was out banging his new girlfriend.
To this day I can’t imagine why a guy would life-bond with someone as big as she is, and then turn around and piss her off like that. It just doesn’t seem like a smart thing to do. But she wasn’t really a violent person. More than anything, she was hurt, and disappointed, and certainly furious. Things didn’t get better, and they got a divorce. That’s about the time when she finally called me after seven years.
She was all like, "I’d like to see you again," and I was all like, "well I’d like to see you again too," so she told me how to find her house in Modesto. I went down there and we visited and went out and I spent the night. Then some time after that I persuaded her to come visit me, at my barn. This is where I get to the part about What The Neighbors Think.
She had this classic black four-door Mercedes-Benz sedan in really good condition. You don’t see cars like this very often, and around here you never see cars like this. So she showed up in my driveway, driving this classic black four-door Mercedes-Benz sedan in really good condition, and then she got out of the car and stood up. I’m saying if you know her well enough, sometimes you want to hold on to her to keep from falling over because she’s so tall. So my neighbors saw this car, and this really tall woman get out, and saw that we seemed quite familiar with one another, and you know what my neighbors said about her?
They said she was a hooker.
This health-care professional woman with a master’s degree, two sons, a recent divorce, and a classic black four-door Mercedes-Benz sedan in really good condition, whom I met in college, and these dumbass neighbors of mine decided she was a hooker.
To hell with what the neighbors think. Right across the board, all of ’em.
Yes I do like to write stories.