Cowboys and Windshields…

Ever met a real cowboy? It was recently brought to my attention that I needed some cowboy boots, and by none other than a boot wearin’ man…  

July 4…

Me and two besties were parking on the 6th floor of a local parking deck downtown. We were headed to dinner to celebrate independence and birthdays. We were dressed up and smellin’ good. We laughed our way over to the elevator to ride the floors down and save our feet from the many block walk that was eminent.

A group of people gathered around the elevator button, it lit red.  We waited. The doors slid open. My group of three ladies, a pair of middle ages ladies, one fella, and a family of three with a stroller. We all piled in, realizing that everyone EXCEPT the family got on. Immediately the girls and I encourage the family that there was plenty of room. They hesitated and declined. The pair of ladies stepped off the elevator and offered their spots, sure that they had somehow cut in front of the family. The family waved off the ladies and declined again, leaving us all no choice but to ride our prized elevator spots down to street level. I have to be honest, there was an uncomfortable, guilty, “we just took their spot,” feeling throughout the guests as the doors closed us in. We all kinda looked at each other and at the floor like, “Oh, well, I guess.”

As the doors clinked closed the fella in the corner said, “Now ladies (being the only male), leave your guilt out there! We all offered and they said “no.” Don’t worry about it and you all enjoy your Independence day.” His deep voice beaconed for us to look up at him… Oh my. Not only were those sweet words out of a man’s mouth, but what a specimen. Gracious. I laughed OUT loud at his appropriate, yet bold comment to an elevator full of ladies… Smooth move, buddy. Real smooth.  I should mention that by now we had began making our decent to street level.

Some casual comments were made. Then he asked if we were familiar with the city, he explained that he was meeting a client for dinner and wasn’t from the area; and had an early flight to catch in the morning. The pair of ladies (wearing fanny packs, mind you) piped up that they weren’t from here, either, California. I went on to give the corner streets of the deck and the Engaged Bestie asked where the fella was from. “Texas,” he said. I asked where in Texas, and he answered Houston area. As the doors to our vertical mobile opened, I said, “You know, we don’t draw our “I’s” out quite like you Texans do, but we’ve got pretty good southern accents here in NC.”

He made eye contact and said, “Well, yes you do. You ladies have a safe night.”

The six of us split up in our mini-groups in our different directions and proceeded with the night’s festivities.

INDEPENDENCE, Y’all. Independence.

We attempted to see the fireworks from our restaurant, no good. A few friends hiked a block to see them. We maneuvered traffic, drank wine, ate delicious Mediterranean food (I know, not especially patriotic, but the artichoke and caper chicken is too much to turn down), and LAUGHED. It was wonderful being with some of the best people on the east coast (in my very humble opinion). As the night tightened on us and we were forced home by another day of work coming, with fully bellies and laughed out cheeks, we walked the several blocks back to the car, people rearranged. A the Bedazzled Bestie and her sister had left in another car and we returned 4 to my car.

As we arrived at the infamous elevator the Engaged Bestie pointed out how delicious “Texas” had smelt. You know the smell, Man. Pure, clean, and “I showered, and shaved for YOU,” smell. We laughed and agreed that the interaction with him had been fun and what a cutie! Blonde Bestie mentioned that he had a “hot truck.” Being from a small town, where lots of immature boys drove big trucks, I have stayed near the sedan side of things. But, as we reached our floor, she pointed out his truck… She was right, it was clean, detailed, and all BOY. Hot.

We reached my car and Engaged Bestie says, “You should leave your number on his windshield!!!” I cocked my head and threw her a look only I can, with sass to the hilt. “Riiiiiiight. I might be from a small town, but I don’t need to behave like I am….” We laughed for a minute and she prodded again, “What do you have to lose. He’s from Texas. He seemed really nice. Plus, he smelt really good.” I quickly said, “No, seriously.” She pulled a jab and she said, “You’re always encouraging all of us to take risks…..” and the pulled out a piece of Nordstom pad paper.

Ok, ok. I did it. Silly. Very silly. But my bluff had been called and she was right, what did I have to loose, for heaven’s sake. He was from Texas. He couldn’t exactly stalk me.

Note said: “Leave your guilt out here, Lindsey 555.555.5555” and on the back, “Have a safe flight. :)”

I double checked his tags to be ABSOLUTELY sure that it was his truck and I scuttled around to the front and slid the folded paper under the driver-side wiper (side note: Bedazzled Bestie and her sister drove past me as I was finishing the deed, with very confused looks on their faces). I ran back to my car as the girls hooped and hollered from their seats. I was proud to have completed the adult dare and even more glad to be back in my car (unseen by Texas).

We waited in traffic like the rest of the city, filing out one car at a time. We dropped off two of besties and as the last two of us were nearing home my phone “ding dinged.”

THAT’S Right! He texted about 20 minutes later. We texted for about two hours that night – He loved the touch of the Nordstrom paper. He loved the reference to ‘leave your guilt out there,’ and knew exactly which group of girls had left their number. He was sarcastic, funny, and charming and said “yes ma’am” enough times to remind me of his twang in the elevator. He was kind enough to ask me out for the following week… I was going to be out of town and couldn’t get back for it… But he promised he’d be back traveling for business soon and would love to show me a good time.

We texted for a few weeks and then he started calling. Oh, that accent. He’s very charming, and respectful. He’s great…

We picked a time that he could come visit and I would be free… We spent the better part of four days getting to know each other. We cooked, talked, laughed, listened to music, flirted a little, ate, drank. We also shopped for cowboy boots, he thinks I need some.

You know, basic awesomeness.

He hasn’t been back since, but we continue to stay in touch… Who knows where it could all go, we live WAY TOO far from each other to really be serious. But it has been a lot of fun. It’s nice to know that there are really nice guys out there who like to dote on girls and be really sweet. I’ll take a double dose, thank you!

Here’s to leaving your number on a windshield. Piece of advice, pick a nice car.

Oh, and I’m still calling him “Texas...”

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