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.

Well heck Dixie you're doing better than most. Especially me. I keep falling for women I can't have!

Dixie, I fished in the ocean of women until I was 37 before I found Mrs. Right. I had some multi year relationships with "miss not quite the one". I learned a lot about dating, but not much about true love.

Don't throw away a possible great man for fear of being hurt. My now wife and I dated for a year, before I proposed, and we were engaged for a year, before the big day. Living together after the proposal let us both know we could do it forever. 33 years later, we are still happy to be with each other.

So don't run away for him, but just unwrap maybe one layer of barbed wire on your heart and see where it goes. Make no major commitments for now, and maybe put a one year dating only time limit on things. A good man is hard to find I suspect. Most of us are married already! ;)

Thanks for sharing Dixie.

Dixie, love can only happen if you let it. From your post, it's clear that you have not opened your heart to accept it. I totally understand that as your head keeps reminding you of the past.

The only thing that I can provide for you is, "When you know, you'll know" because your heart will drown out the reluctance coming from your brain.

My aforementioned coworker John went raccoon hunting with his brother in AR, where he grew up One of his friends was named Sam, a super friendly older man that drove an older F150. They had a good hunt, had a beer afterwards, and then Sam said his goodbyes and drove away. After he left they told John that Sam was actually Sam Walton.

Fun story.
I have known a few "Wyatts" over the years. One was my great uncle, a union hod carrier in the 1920s who suddenly found himself out of work due to the great depression. He scraped, scrambled, and bartered for materials and built a small house for his new bride. He also frequented yard sales for clothing and would visit pawn shops when he knew their rent was due and traded cash for gold jewelry at pennyweight value. I still wear one of those rings that was pawned during the depression @ ten cents on the dollar.

When he passed away he owned several rental homes and 500 AC of land halfway between LA and Palm Springs. The house he built had a dozen hidey holes filled with gold jewelry he had acquired over the years as his personal savings account. He lived in the house he built and drove the same old Chevy truck for nearly all of his life. He never trusted banks.

Gentle suggestion: Find yourself a nice pair of wire cutters and get busy cutting away all of that barbed wire around your heart. Get some antiseptic and treat those wounds so you can open yourself to love again. These opportunities don't come along every day and this guy sounds very grounded and knows exactly who he is. Love can be magnificent, frustrating, glorious, infuriating, and rarely lasts forever. It's still worth taking that leap I think.
Cheers!

well your old enough to have your share of..
would have..
could have..
wanted too but..
and know..
that bad decision don't always s make good stories..
give yourself a chance..
certainly Wyatt...
as he sounds like your kind of man..

Rika

Dixie, I forgot to add: you are allowed to be happy. You are worthy of it. You don't need to push it away.

Be well.

Dixie, I wish you only the best. You seem like a warm and thoughtful person and bring a welcome perspective here on certain threads. With that said, I confess “The Husband Store” joke immediately came to mind. Forgive me for resharing it here… I’m not necessarily applying it to you.

“A store that sells new husbands has just opened in New York City, where a woman may go to choose a husband. Among the instructions at the entrance is a description of how the store operates.

You may visit the store ONLY ONCE! There are six floors and the attributes of the men increase as the shopper ascends the flights. There is, however, a catch: you may choose any man from a particular floor, or you may choose to go up a floor, but you cannot go back down except to exit the building!

So, a woman goes to the Husband Store to find a husband.

On the first floor the sign on the door reads: Floor 1 - These men have jobs.

The second floor sign reads: Floor 2 - These men have jobs and love kids.

The third floor sign reads: Floor 3 - These men have jobs, love kids, and are extremely gorgeous. "Wow," she thinks, but feels compelled to keep going.

She goes to the fourth floor and sign reads: Floor 4 - These men have jobs, love kids, are drop-dead good looking and help with the housework."Oh, mercy me!" she exclaims, "I can hardly stand it!"

Still, she goes to the fifth floor and sign reads: Floor 5 - These men have jobs, love kids, are drop-dead gorgeous, help with the housework, and have a strong romantic streak.

She is so tempted to stay, but she goes to the sixth floor and the sign reads: Floor 6 - You are visitor 31,456,012 to this floor. There are no men on this floor. This floor exists solely as proof that women are impossible to please. Thank you for shopping at the Husband Store.

A new wives store opened across the street. The first floor has wives that love sex. The second floor has wives that love sex and have money.The third through sixth floors have never been visited.”

In my many years of dating, and searching for Mrs. right, I found many ladies that rejected me, a man with a paid for car, steady job, and owned a house. They went for the bad boy biker gang member, or other low life, convinced they could change him. One of our employees was really clumsy and walked into a lot of cabinet doors. She regularly had a black eye, or bruises on her face under the heavy makeup. It was sad to see. He finally forced her to quit the job as we were to nosy about her relationship.

I found the same thing Glen. Would have helped me if I was over 6 ft tall too. lol