Since too many mamas took Willie Nelson's advice not to let their babies grow up to be cowboys, lonely Wyoming cowgirls found the odds of finding a suitable mate to suddenly be stacked against them. Cowgirl Melinda experienced that dilemma.
However, she was resourceful.
She went into a suitable bar in Rawlins and checked over the scene. Damn! It was a hipster bar! She never saw so many beards and non-haircuts since she stumbled on a mountain man wannabee gathering (less threatening than a Grateful Dead concert). She could tell the straight 'uns; they looked her over. Then she moseyed up to the bar. A nice-looking guy wearing a string tie sidled up to her and offered her a PBR.
Madeline, finding him promising, accepted his offer (whatever a PBR was) and was surprised that it was an unfamiliar beer.
He introduced himself as Jack. Nice name, she thought; as long as his last name didn't begin with an S.
He goes, "You come here often?"
Melinda, "Nope. I'm a stranger in these parts; mostly on the range."
Jack: "A chef? Oh, how cool!"
Melinda: "No, I'm a wrangler. I care for cows and sometimes geese. But sometimes I'm left in charge of the chuck."
Jack: "That's an unusual specialty: being in charge of an accessory for a drill. Do you also handle the bits as well?"
Melinda: "Only when it comes to making them steers."
Clearly, there was a bit of culture shock even on the lone prairie.
It increased when Madeline asked him what he did, and he said that he was a technician with the Geek Squad. "Is that like being a cable guy?" Clearly, Melinda had a way of starting off on the wrong foot.
But then it got worse. It turned out later that he was a vegan; and a glutenophobe to boot. He also hung around health food stores. Somehow, Melinda came to thinking, this ain't going to work out. Still . . . . he knew how to kiss . . . .
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