THAT’S NO BULL
For two years now I’ve been writing about a woman named Sarah Hunter, the protagonist of the trilogy “The Secrets of Clayton County.” And, in the process I’ve had to “man-up” and learn a whole lot about women. For that I thank my wife’s numerous friends. Of course, in exchange they got a whole lot of laughs. Especially after they taught me how a woman would remove her pantyhose in the middle of a parking lot. (no, I’m not saying. You’ve gotta read Book 1.)
Anyway, this all leads me to thinking about women more intently. For example, isn’t it true that woman will say, “I could live without a man for the rest of my life.” Perhaps in disgust, or frustration, but do they actually believe it? Don’t women flock to each other for “formal tea” party’s? Read romantic books at their book clubs? Gather at Starbuck’s for gossip? Shop together, be it Macy’s or the swap meet. Parade through the trash together at Saturday garage sales?
And of course I’ve heard women refer to men as “rude, crude, and insensitive.” (Not me of course.) So I’ve got a question. Why do women spend so much time and money at the hair salon? Why do they have standing appointments for manicures and pedicures? Why are women so sensitive about their clothes, and their shoes? Why does an “outfit” make you feel outdoorsy, formal, energetic, or sexy?
Who are you trying to impress? Your girlfriends? Certainly can’t be men, can it? You just said they were crude and despicable.
Which brings me to my idea. If men are happy in boots, jeans, and tee shirts, driving their pickup trucks, drinkin’ Bud Light and laughing when they burp, why not throw them all in a “Bull Pen” together. Then, when a woman feels the need to hold a big hunk of man for a while, (between book club meetings, of course) she can just go get one at the “Bull Ring.” Lady’s choice so to speak. Check out all the bulls, pick the one that suits you, and take him home for as long as you need him.
And the world would be happier. The bulls would get the variety they crave, and the ladies wouldn’t be bothered with cleaning up after one every day.
Don Wooldridge | Author