The airplane was so tiny, it could be called a sardine can. my fourteen inch wide carry-on was banging against the seats as I dragged it behind me. I had become intimate with the two seat on the left, one on the right commuter plane. Even at my diminutive height of five foot two, I managed to smack my head on an over head bin. Up until now, all super small planes I’d flown on were short and wide, not super narrow.
This must be how sailor a submarine feel. I do loves me a man in a sailor uniform. But that’s another story.
As I was fighting with my recalcitrant case, banging along after me. A ray of hope entered the darkness. A cowboy booted foot protruding out in the isle. A cowboy, too tall for his seat. Cowboys always offer help to a woman in distress.
As I slugged closer to immediate help, I notice a harlequin pattern painted on the boot. My stomach began to sink. When I got close enough to realize it was puffy paint, my stomach hit bottom. And not just puffy paint, he had bedazzled his belt to match his boots. This was no cowboy, it was a fauwboy (a faux cowboy).
He didn’t offer to help me with my case. He didn’t even look me in the eye.
Hot and sweaty, struggling down the isle I continued. Then I saw another ray of hope, a cowboy hat way in the back, near my seat. In the row so far back, if they’d have to strap me in the toilet to get me any closer to the rear of the plane.
My seat was finally in reach. Someone would help me heft my case into the overhead bin. I turned with a forlorn look of desperation. His hat was tied to his head with strings. STRINGS TYING ON HIS HAT. This was no cowboy.
Cowboys do not paint their boots, bedazzle their belts, or need to tie their hats on. Cowboys wear worn boots, real leather, silver belt buckles, jeans without bling and finally, cowboys know how to treat women like ladies.
This is why I loves me a cowboy.
And a sailor
Any man in military uniform.
Firemen.
Texas Ranger, which goes without saying.
And …
❤ Oh boy! I'm with you on all the above. 🙂 I'm sweating over your list.
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How true. I lived in Houston for six years. Real cowboys out there. No poofy boots, bling, or hat ties. No fancy shirts, either. When I lived in Vallejo, CA – military town, real navy there. I dated a fireman in my younger days. Can’t say enough good things about them.
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Reblogged this on Confessions of a Confetti Head and commented:
I love Deidra Alexander’s blog. This one especially.
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Those boys on that itty-bitty airplane don’t even rate a mention, Deidra. You can’t depend on folks who go about ‘assuming’ identities they never grew into. They’re way too busy polishing their self-images to have any time for anyone else. Sorry you had to go through that.
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Funny!
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This upset my funny bone but I still laughed out loud. The first cowboy wasn’t, and the second one wasn’t either? On that itty bitty plane? Too much for me. Ha ha ha ha ha.
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Them boys were all hat and no cattle so to speak. Better luck finding a real gentleman cowboy next time – one whose mom brought him up right
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Amen, sister. I loves me a cowboy, too!
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Such fauxboys need to be beaten regularly, to dissuade them from making such poor fashion choices. Otherwise they won’t learn.
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I love me a cowboy too. Once I was in Fat Boy’s Bbq joint in Canyon, Tx (up in the panhandle) and this man in grubby clothes and a grubby cowboy hat and boots WITH SPURS came in and I very nearly violated my marriage vows.
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I love me a cowboy too. 23333
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I blame the movie Urban Cowboy for making western clothes ‘trendy’! After that movie came out, the cost of the boots and hats I wore for riding and showing my horses skyrocketed, and my favorite tack store became a boutique! I may not be a real cowboy/girl, but at least my boots have manure on them!
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It sounds to me you’re authentic.
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never liked that movie.
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I have to agree…they were not cowboys! Hugs
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Like vampires, a cowboy shouldn’t sparkle.
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Reblogged this on louisa leaman and commented:
A reblog-reward to the first ever person to like my blog (thanks, Deidra!)…and then I discover her post is really quite neat and amusing (thus worthy of the reblog 🙂
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Thank you. I love your header by the way. You said every writer needs a platform. Maybe I should find a writer for my platform.
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Misplaced Texan here, sorry to say I saw fauwboys in Dallas.
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Dallas isn’t Texan any more foreigners outnumber native Texans. I’ve even met some people from New Jersey. 😖
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What about a six shooter and some chewing grass? I can live without the shooter, but I always needs me some grass to chew on!
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I was once caught unaware and was kissed by a man who was in mid chew. He was skilled at not sharing, but it grossed me out just the same.
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I live in a tiny town with aman who wandered the earth until he found a home in Texas. I like this longer version of the cowboy because it gives context to the short one, which was also good at making the point. My husband looks at my son like not opening the door or helping with the groceries for me is the most unforgivable inaction. I love me a cowboy too, in his worn boots and dress jeans with those down home manners.
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Sing it, sister.
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😀 Laaaaaaaaa!
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Anyone who loves cowboys and whiskey is ok in my book. Thanks for following me on Cold.:)
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In had to give up whiskey on my doctor’s orders. I’m thinking of picking up tequila instead.
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I love the ruggedness of a cowboy, and as much as i like a man in uniform, i like to focus on the things I can wear in the bedroom. After all we have uniforms of our own. Personally I love the playboy bunny look.
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Ah yes. I agree
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You made my morning, I’m going to think of this post all day and it will make me smile- Thanks
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You’re very welcome. Cowboys always make me smile.
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Very upbeat, subtle humor with a touch of sweetness!
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You are too kind. Would you like a new best friend?
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🙂
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Reblogged this on Zenkatwrites's Blog and commented:
Her blogs I want to paint. She caught me with this title, cuz I am a cowgurl!
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Thanks.
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Have my attention with the title, but I agree with what you said. Love the term faux cowboy!
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Hey there Tina. If it involves a bedazzler and puffy paint, it has to be faux. Thanks for stopping by.
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I personally don’t care for cowboys (just not my thing – though I do like other men in uniform), but I’ve had similar experiences when flying. I’m the same height and look like a teenager still, so lugging any suitcase is a workout for me. Luckily, I did have people help me with my luggage (carrying up/down stairs and putting it in the overhead bin). But mostly because I look so pathetic dragging multiple luggage that each weigh more than me that people can’t help but feel a need to help me.
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Maybe that’s a key. I travel too light.
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Real cowboys don’t travel by airliner. If it’s too far for a horse or a Ford pickup, they’ll take a train–such as on the Highline, crossing northern Montana.
Thanks for the “like.”
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Your very welcome. Love your response. Though I caught up with a cowboy in the airport in London who had flown a WWII fighter plane from Spain across Africa and back. National Geographic – Spain followed him. Pretty cool.
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Real cowboys DO pilot World War ll aircraft.
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I can vouch for that.
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I looooooooooove the way cowboys look!!! But the animal wrestling and killing just won’t fit my vegetarian lifestyle. 😦 I had a fireman, forget that, ego too big to get in a house and save anyone! Sailors are cute as are pretty much any man in uniform. A flyboy is really a sight to behold. Holding would probably be nice 🙂
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Flyboy haven’t tried one of those. Yet. Great idea.
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