Man Wrangler

Picture Credit

Wine and company bend my mind towards unfeasible projects. The most recent of these - pursuant to Friday night's conversation - is the idea of a Man Wrangler.

Every single person complains of the lack of prospective partners at some point. It's natural. The older we are, the more human nature works against us. Not only do we tend to be more picky, but so does everyone else. (SO unfair if you ask me. OTHER people should be able to see through my faults, but I reserve MY right to discriminate immoderately.)

AND there is that semi-trailer of life baggage that keeps following us around. As soon as I think I dropped that thing at a parking depot somewhere, I turn around and DAMN! - there it is again. As much as we might want to be the tractor part ONLY of the tractor-trailer, that sneaky thing keeps finding us.

My complaint is that wherever I go, it's always a brodeo. (Noun credit: Mr Nights.) Like a man in a desert, all I see is sand in the form of dudes. However, opportunity is often found by turning adversity upside-down. (Invert, always invert.)

What I should be doing is creating my own database of men with whom I can hook up whatever single women I know. Use the law of supply and demand to my advantage, by making ME the go-to guy for single ladies around town, that's the plan.





Bottoms Up Matchmakers.