I’m pretty sure I just saw the man of my dreams… And now he’s gone… Forever. I was at the post office getting money orders when a handsome cowboy walks in right behind me.
He had a nice brown cowboy hat, blue button up shirt, some rather nice fitting jeans and boots, of course. At that moment I realized something….. I should probably start dressing better. I was wearing a Lion King sweatshirt with black cutoff shorts and sandals. Not even cute sandals, they were basically slides but for a boat. If that makes sense. I stood there in line, trying to look as confident and pretty as possible, but you can only be so pretty with your hair in a bun wearing a sweatshirt and grungy shorts.
I made attempts to steal glances at him, but he didn’t notice. It wasn’t long until I was called up to the cashier and was then having to socialize with the cashier while he printed my money orders.
The cowboy was right beside me with the other teller and all I could do was try to steal a few more glances of his appearance that just screamed masculinity.
Then he walked out the door. I was hoping he’d still be in the parking lot when I walked out, but of course he was in his truck and already driving away. Never to be seen again.
My whole plan was to tell him he looked really nice… And from there we would start talking and I would mention I was a single mom, then maybe the conversation would go so great that we would exchange numbers and ride off into the sunset on the horses I’m sure he owned.
But that didn’t happen and I suppose that’s okay. If there ever was a perfect man, it was this one. And don’t worry, I checked for a wedding ring and there wasn’t one. Though, I guess if he was a working man like he looked to be, he wouldn’t be wearing one.
Maybe I’ll see him again at the post office or maybe somewhere in town. It is southern Utah after all, and I tend to see a lot of the same people. But then again, the dating is rough here so more likely, my heads in the clouds and he’s already taken or is a narcissist. I will probably never know.
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