Promises Promises

Me and my big mouth. You would think that at my age, I would have learned to keep it shut. Unfortunately, I still flap my jaws long before I think about what I am really saying. Such has been my week. I opened my mouth and inserted my foot.

Actually, I promised Jeanie Sue that I would find her the perfect date.

Yep, idiot that I am, I blindly made a promise thinking “just how hard could it be to find a date for a redneck-ess?” Well, lemme tell you, it ain’t quite as easy as it sounds.

First off, there are certain expectations that go along with this date. They involve finding a person with a job, some teeth, a thing she refers to as “morals”, and a decent personality. On top of all of this, the person has to like kids, and not be prone to beating his dates up.

She might have just as well asked me to find a diamond mine in Mooringsport.

I started out by making a list of all of the men that I knew. Than I crossed out the ones that were dating someone else, as I would prefer not to get shot. Then I had to cross off the ones who refused to work more than a week at a time. Than I crossed off the one who drank more than 2 6-packs a day.

I then took my list to another friend of ours, and had her dwindle it down according to personality and likelihood of Jeanie Sue to drive the person up the walls. This left one person on the list.

“Well, there you have it” my wife said. “Her and Billy Joe are perfect for one another. They both have kids, jobs, cars that run, and eat grits. There couldn’t be anything more wonderful.”

Knowing that women are usually right about these things, I decided to call BJ and tell him that I had the perfect woman for him. I had even set up a time for them to meet. And on top of that, I went so far as to offer do this at my house, where I would serve them Twinkies and beer, along with a home-cooked meal of taters and fried squash.

“Sorry Rick”, he told me. “No can do. She sounds wonderful, but this is deer season. Nobody dates during hunting season. If she’s still around when rabbit season closes in February, we’ll see what happens then.”

To say the least, I was shocked. Here I had a chance to fix my friends up and possibly get both of them married off before Christmas (which means that I save money cause I only have to buy one gift then), and it all gets ruined by hunting. How can this happen?

Sadly, I had to call Jeanie Sue and tell her that I struck out. I had to admit defeat. It was hard on me emotionally, but I made it through. And Jeanie Sue was such a trooper about it, too. She said my failure was ok, and that she will just live the rest of her life out as a spinster woman, and probably die old and alone and toothless waiting for change at a slot machine. “Besides”, she said. “It’s deer season. What self respecting redneck-ess would be going out a date during deer season?”

Next time I decide to fix someone up, remind me just go ahead and shoot something.