A friend of my got married last year. And it was quite a transition for that old cowpoke. Red, as we always called him because of his curly red hair, had been quite the ladies man when he was a senior in high school. He lived on the ranch just over from our's, and he'd sometimes borrow his dad's 1957 Chevy pickup with chrome mudflaps and we'd drive into town and drag main street. The girls flocked around when we cruised by Delbert's Hamburger Shop in that pickup.
And that sometimes caused him some problems, because Red's parents were pretty conservative, straight-laced people. One Saturday morning Red's dad said, "Well, Red, tell Stan that he left his little pink hanky on the seat of my pickup."
Now the lady that old Red finally tied the knot with is something to behold. She played center on the girl's basketball team in high school and college, and she probably could have gone on and played in the NBA. She was a good six inches taller than Red, and old Red wasn't exactly the runt of the litter himself.
Wilma was as sweet and thoughtful as she was tall. And when Wilma was in college she was quite a poet. It was there in the dorm, looking out the window at a romantic full moon, that in a moment of selflessness she was inspired to write:
Fact is, Lord, I'm on my knees
Not on my behalf, but for another.
Please, dear Lord, isn't it time
To send a son-in-law to my mother?"
Well, we thought there for a while that her prayer was going to be answered pretty doggone quick. It was after she graduated from college and during her first year of teaching that she and Red began dating. Wilma's roommate, Dorothy, was curious as to how things were progressing, since Red and Wilma had been going together for six months. So Wilma said, "Well, Red hasn't actually kissed me yet. But he sure steamed up my glasses a couple of times."
One night they were sitting on the couch in Wilma's apartment watching TV. Well, the TV was on and it was tuned to "Bonanza". But they were smooching is what they were doing. Right in the middle of a big kiss ol' Red stopped and said, "Wilma, my precious petunia, what are you thinking about."
Wilma flashed those big eyes and purred, "Why, doodle dumplin', I'm thinking the same thing you are."
Red jumped up and said, "Hey, that's great. I'll race you to the refrigerator! I'm starved."
Another time, Red and Wilma were parked at the drive-in movie. There was a great love scene in the movie. That really inspired Wilma. During the intermission she scooted right up close to Red and said, "Red, my doodle dumplin', will you love me when I'm old and gray?" Red said, "Oh, yes, my precious petunia, I'll always love you, even when you're old and gray. I'll always idolize you. I'll forever worship the ground under your size 10 feet. I'll always...say, Wilma, you're not going to look like your mother, are you?" That cooled the romance down right there.
Fact is, their romance stayed colder'n a well digger's butt for the next twelve years. Red got to rodeoing on the weekends, hither and yon. And Wilma got involved in school activities. And they just drifted apart.
Well, maybe it wasn't just that. One thing that made their courtship so long was that Red just couldn't take a hint very well. For example, when they started dating again last year, after a dozen years of hardly seeing each other, Red wasn't any more perceptive than he had been the first time around. Wilma says he got bucked off a bull and landed on his head once too often. Anyway, they went out to eat at our local Chinese restaurant, the Polynesian Palace, one night several months ago. They began reading the menu and Red said, "Wilma, my precious petunia, how would you like your rice--fried or boiled?" She looked right at him and said, "Thrown!" And he still didn't get it.
Now, folks, it takes a pretty smart man to figure out when a girl stops resisting his advances and starts blocking his retreat. Red didn't figure that out until it was too late.
You have to hand it to Red, though. When he makes up his mind, he takes action and is a man of few words. The night he proposed to Wilma he took her hand in his and said, "Wilma, my precious petunia, will you marry me or not?" She blushed and said, "Oh, all right, Red. You've talked me into it."
Well, boys, after she accepted his proposal they just sat there on the couch, Red on one end and Wilma on the other. No one said a word. Minutes passed. An hour passed. Finally Wilma said, "Red, aren't you going to say anything else?" He kinda looked down at the floor and said, "I think I said too much already."
Red and Wilma's wedding was the talk of our little town. That was a wonderful experience. It was a cowboy wedding, held out in the front yard at Red's ranch. There were two things that happened during that ceremony that were, well, a little unorthodox. About half-way into the ceremony poor ol' Red, his knees shaking, said to the preacher: "Is this the time that it is kisstomary to cuss the bride?" The preacher said, "No, not yet. But soon." Then when the ceremony finally ended, Red was an extremely excited creature. Why, that buckeroo was so nervous he handed Wilma the marriage fee and he tried to kiss the preacher.
Red and Wilma have been married several weeks now. One day last week he was telling the wranglers out at his ranch about an argument that he and Wilma had the night before. One of the men said, "Well, Red, how did it end up?" He said, "Oh, just like you might expect. She came crawling to me on her hands and knees."
Red's foreman was a little skeptical and said, "Come on, now, Red. What did she say when she came crawling to you on her hands and knees." Poor ol' Red blushed as he said, "Come out from under that bed and fight like a man."
Actually, Red and Wilma have been married long enough now that they have made most all of the necessary adjustments. For example, Red and Wilma understand now that they like the same things--only Red likes to save it and Wilma likes to spend it. So they still have a little more fine tuning to do.
The other day I asked ol' Red how good a cook Wilma is and he said, "I wouldn't say that my wife is a bad cook. I wouldn't dare say that. But it might not hurt to tell you that when she cooks she uses the smoke detector as a timer."
However, I am happy to report that they have finally achieved sexual compatibility. Why, Red told me that just last Friday night they both had headaches when they went to bed.
Well, pards, here's something somebody said that will do to hang your Resistol on: "The weaker sex is the stronger sex because of the weakness of the stronger sex for the weaker sex."
That's sure how it is with Red and Wilma.
__________End.
Written in March, 1993. Based on material put together for the reception honoring Jim Crownover and Wanda Hutchins before their wedding.