Because I like to write, and Mr. Carlton mentioned Wyatt...
 

Wyatt is a simple Colorado cowboy, devoid of any pomp. He drives an old dented truck, and lives in a small, forlorn, old house near the dive bar where we meet. He's thin, wears jeans every day, and always has his well-worn cowboy hat perched atop his head. Emanating from that hat, and cascading past his shoulders, is Wyatt's sexy long grey hair. Indeed, Wyatt looks exactly like Willie Nelson's long lost, but broke, brother.

So I felt rather guilty that Wyatt was always insisting on paying for everything. He'd even try to please me by offering to take me to bougie restaurants. Restaurant that I know are not Wyatt. Wyatt would much rather eat at Applebee's, taking advantage of their all-day-two-for-one happy hour prices. I also think he adores that I order off the kid's menu there. Never mind that I do it to mind my waist, not to be frugal.

Anyway, one day we were out and Wyatt surprised me by driving around showing me his local rental properties. There must have been at least five. I really was surprised, but not as surprised as I was going to be. A couple months later he revealed he has 60 rentals spread across multiple States.

"But wait," as Billy Mays would say, "there's more!"

Those properties include several natural gas wells in Texas, and a 1,000 acre farm in Colorado. It turns out Wyatt is far from broke. He just isn't the type to put on airs. He's just happy living the life of an old Colorado cowboy. The cowboy that he is.

Looks can indeed be deceiving.

I wish I could down vote haters. They bring nothing of value.

You can block them...

Or we can delete their posts, edit them, and ban them if they repeat offend.

“That old man right there in the rockin' chair at the courthouse square, I'll tell you now
He could buy your fancy car with hundred dollar bills
Don't let those faded overalls fool ya
He made his millions without one day of schoolin'”

This right here is what I'm talking about. Okay, fine, it turns out Wyatt has a Master's degree, but why split hairs. ;)

“Where I Come From” by Montgomery Gentry, great song.

So I have my own Wyatt story, except his name was John. John was a cowboy from Arkansas, walked with a heavy gait because he rode bulls until he broke his back and the doctors wouldn’t let him ride anymore. Maybe 5’3” and 100 lbs soaking wet but would square off with anybody that disrespected him. Had one glass eye because, well honestly I don’t remember. I worked for John during my formative teens and early 20s at a mobile home park doing maintenance and set up. John typically drove a beater that he bartered for, normally for fixing someone’s mobile home. Often times an old station wagon so loaded down with tools that the ass would drag down the road. He smoked a pack a day of Black & Mild cigars because he had convinced himself they were healthier than Marlboro Reds, and lived in an old double wide out in the country. He was also the most kind, charitable, and wise man that I ever met. John never let anyone go with an issue, even if they couldn’t pay him. He would spend his weekends doing odd jobs for residents of the park, often for no pay. I probably learned more about being a man and life from John than anyone I have ever known, short of my grandfather. And my God did he save and invest his money. John had land, rentals, and investments that you would never imagine. Finally he loved his wife, aka “mama”, despite constantly poking fun at her. He died a couple of years ago and I couldn’t make his funeral due to work, but I think he understood. The job always came first, and John hated ****** funerals anyway.

So that’s a long hijack Dixie, but Wyatt sounds like some sort of dude. Personally I like people that have more substance than pretense, so he sounds like my kind of guy.

Thanks, that's the kind of reply I adore.

All cattle, no hat.

My grandfather always said the ones who look like they have money are owned by the banks.

When I moved into my current house, the neighbor next door turned out to be quite a surprising fellow. He was a grizzled old guy...usually sporting a week's stubble on his wrinkled chin, and his clothes sometime looked like they hadn't been washed in weeks. Him being an avid dumpster diver, I would sometimes come home to find a bag of moldy potatoes or wilted lettuce that he'd left me as a 'gift' of sorts.

We never talked much, but one day I noticed that his arm was in a sling and was sporting a black eye, so I had to ask him what happened. It piqued my interest when told me that he crashed his plane (a plane, what plane???) while landing on a small private runway near here and was hoppin' mad when told that he could no longer use that facility for his flying escapades. The fact that, at 80 years-old, he didn't have a valid pilot's license surely didn't help the situation. He hadn't had a driver's license for years either, but that never stopped him from cruising around town in his beat-up old Ford van.

Then the flood gates opened and he starts bending my ear with his whole life story. Turns out that he was born & raised in this house and that his family owned vast tracks of forest land up in Oregon that were leased out to lumber companies. He was probably worth a bundle, but for some reason, chose to live like a pauper. He spun tales of being a bush pilot in Alaska and a crop duster in the Salinas Valley during his younger days, then took me into his garage/workshop to show me a small helicopter that he was building from a kit that he found somewhere. Unfortunately...or maybe fortunately...he never got to fly it 'cause he passed before ever finishing it.

A small well-dressed group of folks, who I assumed were his relatives, showed up soon thereafter to close up his house and formally lay him to rest.

Yes, looks certainly can be deceiving at times...

So fast forward a couple months, and we're piddle-buttin' along in Wyatt's truck. Suddenly, without notice, and completely out of the blue, I hear the three words I don't expect. No, they're not, "hey babe, suck my..." That's five words. No, these words are braver, more soul bearing, and touching. They leave me stunned. In response I utter, "errr-ahhh-huhhh???" which turned out to be perfect. Wyatt changes the subject. Me? I want to throw open the truck door and jump, even though we're going 50 mph. That seems less threatening than unwrapping the years of barbwire wrapped around my heart.

So now I'm working on injecting some distance between myself and Mr. Wyatt. You see, I don't think I can survive having love fail again. I just feel sad that I unwittingly lead Wyatt to believe otherwise.

I probably over shared, and will delete this later.

Just leave it. No harm.

I don’t think you over shared even a little, we all need a place like this were we can bounce ideas, get a different perspective or just vent with people who aren’t part of our day to day encounters.

What I should say: If you have a chance for love, go for it.

You'll never be younger than your are today and nobody knows how long they've got.

We had a customer that was far from flashy. Just a regular Joe, and he drove an old beat up pickup. He had some really nice photos from many national parks. He offered to buy me lunch if several other employees came along. He paid for lunch and we all thanked him and offered to pay our part.

He was a super friendly down to earth guy. Evidently he inherited a large oil fortune.

Dixie. I suspect I will never meet you. But damn. You are funny. Smart. And well spoken.

And, I know a number of people like Wyatt. I like most all of them. I have a number of his habits / traits as my own.

Let me tell you about my MIL. She is the single most loved human I have ever met. EVERYONE adores her. She has millions of flaws. She is absent minded. Broke. A horrible listener. Lazy. And many many more. And she met the love of her life 25 years ago. It was wedding #4. And major relationship #6 or so for her. Wedding #3 for him. She had given up. Was going to die single. And then Jim came around.

He too, had given up and accepted that he would die alone.

They had 15 years together. He made the worst impression on me of almost anyone I have met. I hated him instantly. And? He became my fishing buddy and very very very loved FIL.

It was spectacularly beautiful. It was a confirmation of many wonderful things.

Just put that in your noggin and ponder a bit.

Good luck. I have faith in you.

(did I say you are funny???)

I smiled at that one.

Wyatt doubles his money by taking it out of his wallet, folding it over and putting it back in his wallet.

I'd keep Wyatt closer than you are saying you do. He did nothing wrong except be attracted to you.

I had lunch with a Wyatt once. He wasn’t very talkative, though.

Hardly said a damn word through the entire meal, including a beer or two the he quirkily put ice cubes in.

So, I finally asked him, ‘What you thinkin’ there Wyatt?

‘Earp!









I’ll be here all week. And be sure to tip the waitress.