By Columnist Bob Bridge
Women, women, women!
So soft and pretty, yet particularly problematic and perplexing.
Yes, I’ve experimented with my fair share of alluring ladies. Did I learn much from those experiences?
My first girlfriend went by the moniker of Miss Kitty. Unique, huh?
Kitty was a working girl. She lived in Dodge City and owned and operated the Long Branch Saloon. Her friends were Doc and Chester, and she had a crush on a U.S. Marshal, Matt Dillon.
Matt was tall, handsome and was gifted with a swift draw. I considered challenging him to a gunfight, but his weapon wielded real bullets. I was toting a cap pistol.
I was fond of Miss Kitty, but I quickly learned long distance relationships rarely stood the test of time.
The odds were against “us.” Hence, I moved on.
I subsequently fell for a cute cowgirl, Dale Evans. She rode the range atop her trusty steed, Buttercup. And, she could warble like a whippoorwill.
Alas, it ywasn’t meant to be. Just another short-term love affair.
Roy Rogers won her heart, and soon she was singing “Happy Trails to You.“
Hey, I can take a hint.
Then, along came Polly.
Her name was Sweet Polly Purebred, and she was a news reporter. Imagine that!
She was so doggone ... pristine.
Unfortunately, Polly was a complex creature, always meandering into harm’s way. Before I could rescue her, some canine in a cape would inexplicably whisk in and save the day.
This sawed-off superman called himself Underdog. I suspected his bark was more dangerous than his bite, but ... Polly was obviously smitten with him.
You guessed it, I moved on.
My next gal was Gidget. She was cute and silly.
Our coupling was dealt a decisive blow when she flew off to become a nun. Who would have thunk it?
Demoralized, I gave up babes for baseball. That lasted until Farrah Fawcett’s poster hit the market place.
What did I see in Farrah?
Duh, have you seen the poster?
As fate would have it, she married the Six Million Dollar Man.
I decided to give love one last chance. Cameron Diaz was the ideal candidate. Such a heartthrob.
Honestly, there was something about Mary ... uh, I mean ... Cameron.
Just when I was about to pop the question, Matt Dillon entered the picture. No, not Matt Dillon the lawman, a younger Matt Dillon!
Wooing women is not for the weak in spirit.
Alas, I returned my focus to baseball.
Much like women, the athletic pastime is plagued with challenging curves. However, so far, I don’t strike out nearly as often playing baseball.
Contact Columnist Bob Bridge at 812-276-9646 or email@example.com.