My last article seems to have hit a soft spot with a few readers.
My phone rang several times with people wanting to know exactly what I was thinking. I just answered the same way I did when I was a kid in trouble. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Oddly enough, I haven’t received any calls from troop leaders wanting retractions pertaining to cookie sales. The calls I got were from a band of female friends I affectionately refer to as my “other mothers.” Every young man should be as lucky as I am to have a group such as the other mothers in my life.
Essentially, the other mothers are another set of eyes and ears for my real mother. These other mothers fill in for Mama should she be absent and report back to her regularly. In polite company, they remind me to refrain from spitting or scratching myself and oftentimes chastise me should I forget one or more of my moral obligations. They keep my feet to the fire and my course on the straight and narrow.
When the other mothers read my line, “maybe I am in love,” they became enraged. “Why in the world would you say ‘maybe?’ You either are or you aren’t,” I heard more than once. But, always motherly, they would end with, “Other than that, it was a good article!”
I’ve always heard a real man will admit when he is in the wrong. So here it goes- I may have been in the wrong when I wrote my last column about the exceedingly addictive Girl Scout cookies. Hmm, crow doesn’t taste so bad after all.
Now, for me to clear this matter up once and for all, I have a few things to say. For one, I am one-hundred percent, completely in love with the most wonderful girl in the world, not maybe. Secondly, yes, I love her more than any Girl Scout cookie. That includes tagalongs and samoas.
I met the girl that stole my heart at the Athenaeum Rectory ten months ago during their annual Ladies Weekend. During this weekend, the Athenaeum staff teaches ladies etiquette, penmanship, and dances of the antebellum world. Through some strange set of events, I decided to go help with dance practice. But, I would be no help at all that night.
All I could do was stare at the beautiful brunette Southern belle in the blue, billowing ball gown. My heart raced as she promenaded towards me. Then, all of a sudden, I was holding her hand. I smiled and tried to speak. I’m still not certain if any words actually came out, but she smiled back before promenading on to the next dance partner.
I stood there completely smitten. I’m pretty sure I ignored every other partner I danced with that night because I was staring across the room at the girl who smiled at me. All the while, I cursed every other man that danced with her. If she noticed my stares, she never let it show.
Finally, dance practice was over. I was on my way to make a bold move- introduce myself to the pretty girl- when someone grabbed my arm and talked for what felt like an eternity. I stood there, a helpless captive, as I watched the girl of my dreams walk out the door. As soon as I broke away from the conversation, I rushed to the parking lot to see if my Cinderella was nearby. Of course, she was long gone, not even a glass slipper left behind.
I didn’t even know her name. However, being on the board of the Athenaeum, I was able to make a few phone calls and, before long, I had her name. And once I had that name, I hunted her down so fast I put prized bloodhounds to shame.
I’m still surprised to this day that she, this dream girl, agreed to the first date. I am even more surprised she agreed to the second one. Now, I can’t imagine my life without her.
The funny thing is, she thinks she is the lucky one.
Named a Tennessee colonel by Gov. Phil Bredesen, Adam Southern is resident of Culleoka and can be followed at http://colonelsouthern.blogspot.com.
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