Country Courtin'

By: Angela Gillaspie Copyright © 2009

I am surprised that I ever found a husband.

Turning sixteen, my sisters and I were finally declared, "Of Age," and had to follow guidelines on courting and hygiene. Of course, my parents each had a different set of rules. Momma taught us how to walk properly, sit lady-like, smell good, talk politely, and be coy, and Daddy educated us on useful things like how to bush hog, hoe, and giggle hysterically when a body function presented itself loudly. Also, when we become "Of Age," we were finally allowed to shave our legs.

When Cletus, my first date arrived, Daddy positioned himself on the front porch cleaning his shotgun, and Momma hid behind the curtain in the living room (to make sure Cletus was a gentleman and opened the car door for me). I answered the door dressed in shorts and color-coordinated bandages on my knees (to cover my razor burn).

I barely survived that date; next time I vowed I'd bring flash cards with Momma's etiquette rules on them so I'd know whether to eat pizza with my fingers or with a fork. However, I did remember to be a lady (like Momma said), and I even remembered to ask Cletus to pull my finger (like Daddy said).

Oddly enough, Cletus never asked me out again.

From then on, my older sister taught me to meet my dates down at the Burger King and to not listen to anything Daddy said.

When I was twenty-one, I met my future husband, Paul-Bob, and he insisted on coming to my house to meet my folks. I gave him vague directions to my house, but he ended up finding it anyway. He presented Daddy with a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon, and buttered up Momma by telling her how wonderful her biscuits were.

Yup, this one was a keeper.

Paul-Bob started visiting my house more often, and I allowed myself to finally become more comfortable with him being around Daddy. But little did I know that dear old Daddy had some tricks that I hadn't yet seen.

Late one night while Paul-Bob and I watched television, Daddy got out of bed to relieve himself. The parlor is next to his lavatory (which had no insulation) and all the sounds echoed loudly. From beginning to end, we heard all three states of matter.

Pretending that I couldn't hear Daddy, I talked loudly over the noises creeping from the bathroom. Finally, I gave up and said, "If you promise to never do that I'll marry you."

Paul-Bob reluctantly agreed.

On another night, Paul-Bob got a glimpse of Daddy in his worn underwear scratching his forever-itching behind after he exited the lavatory. Paul-Bob commented to me, "If you promise to never do that I'll marry you,"

I agreed, and a few months later, we were wed.

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