Confessions of City Girl Gone Country
February 20, 2010 § 1 Comment
I’ve been a bit of a cheater. I’ve been holding out on you—all six of you who actually read my blog. Yes, that’s right, I have been somewhat selective in what I write about, omitting some of the more personal details of my relocation to the Montana wilderness. But that has to come to an end. My aunt and I were discussing writing in the car the other day and I so aptly pointed out that writing would be really boring if we only wrote about things that we’d want our grandparents to read. My aunt and I were specifically discussing writing intimate scenes in novels, but I believe the same rule applies to many of the personal accounts in writing and to my blog. No I am not going to write sex scenes in my blog, but I am going to open the door to my personal life a little wider. Of course, that means I will have to tell you all about being the newest single girl in the little bitty ski town called Big Sky.
Let’s go back to December, to the very first week I arrived here. (Okay, okay, so I have really been holding out on you, I’m sorry. No more, I promise). Somehow, in the very short space of a week I managed to find myself infatuated with someone at my brand new work place. Initially, I thought to myself, “You will not like someone you work with. You will not. Have you not learned from past experiences? And you will especially not like another chef.” (I can tell you one and a half months later that the talking to I had with myself was extremely effective).
You see, I have semi-dated two colleagues, who also happened to be chefs, in the past. To say matters didn’t go so well, would be an understatement. Unfortunately, time has a habit of softening the details of past experiences making it that much easier to convince oneself that workplace romance ain’t so bad. I also tend to believe (falsely) that as members of the adult world, we should all act accordingly, even when concerning matters of the heart at work.
Somehow though, against all reason, I found myself liking another chef. I was a bit clueless to how that had happened at first. Physically, he really just isn’t my type. First off, he has a beard. I am from southern California, the land of the clean shaven. And his beard, well it isn’t like just a bit of fuzz, it is full on mountain man. Secondly, he’s lost an awful lot of hair though he only be in his late 20s. What hair he does have left he’s shaved into half a Mohawk. Seriously. His teeth are crookedly English. He’s from a state in the US that you forget is even part of the country. He’s country through and through, asked me if I wanted to go shooting with him, wonders if I like square dancing, tried to teach me how to tie knots, used his fly rod to get a Frisbee off the roof, demonstrated how to snare squirrels at the bar and drinks PBR. Really now, what could I be thinking?
Oh I remember, he’s utterly charming (and he knows it). His smile beats all. He’s interesting, I mean how many people do I know that know how to tie a fly and are patient enough to teach me? I should also probably mention that he reminds me of an ex-boyfriend that I still hold very dear. I guess I should have expected that moving to the country would mean I’d fall for a country guy. But this country? Really?