Yep Pants.

There are a few cardinal rules I live by. Yes there are the obvious ones, tell the truth, check your fly, always tip well, but sometimes my rules are less about the doing and more about the lack of doing.

You can’t force life. As much as you try to manipulate, coerce, cajole, it won’t work. Life, like boys, comes around when it is good and ready.

I have been – past tense – notoriously pushy when it comes to just about everything. I want what I want when and how I want it, and I want it with a friggin’ cherry on top. Don’t even think about making me wait.

Yeah, that hasn’t worked out so well for me. So I have adopted a more go with the flow outlook as of late and I have to say, it has been working out quite swimmingly.

The thing is, however, I’ve started to get bored, anxious even, not for anything in particular but more for the opportunity to cause a little trouble – basically so that I had more to write about.

I even talked about stunts I could pull – dating like my friends for example, just so I could test the bounds of what is socially acceptable.

I went out with girlfriends. I chatted up strangers in the bar. I interrogated them about their matting practices.

Life said un-huh. It said just be patient and what you are looking for, the kind of great once in a life time foolishness will just present itself.

When I had passed out all the faux bravado I could handle for one evening, I decided that life was just not going to be that eventful and I would just have to settle for good friends and pleasant enough conversations. I said my goodbyes and made my way out the door, bound for pjs and some chick-lit.

“Evenin ma’am.” I was less startled that he called me ma’am, we were in Kansas after all, and hardly registered the county twang but the little curtsy thing he pulled right there in the middle of the parking lot was a bit disconcerting. “Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain, he hollered.”

“it is not a curtain. It’s a big white truck.” At the time I thought I was clever – now I am thinking not so much. Perhaps my sashay was what really sold it.

“Where are you going?! We haven’t even danced yet.”

“Aww. It is my bedtime.” I said. “I’ve got to take off before I turn into a pumpkin.”

I gave him my best half-wink, which probably looked more like a facial spasm than flirting and I climbed in my car. It took me a couple of minutes to get myself situated to leave and in that time my suitor was joined by another man and a young woman.

I backed out of my parking spot and turned the corner to pass his vehicle and there he was, standing in his boxer shorts trading pants with the other man.

Yep. Pants.

What does one say to that??

I figured the only appropriate thing to do was to come to a screeching halt in front of them, lights blaring and roll down my windows for a little cat call action.

“Who-Hoo! Maybe I left to early after all.”

“MmmHmm. You take care ma’am. Drive safe now.”

Just when I thought life was getting unwritable, the world handed me a silver plate of what translated to literal ‘cross-dressing’ cowboys.

Life is good.