Giddy-Up, Cowboy, Giddy-Up!

I was pretty desperate to get married. So, when I was forty-two, I accepted an invitation to go out on a blind date with a man a friend wanted me to meet. The guy was nice enough. He was a few years older than me, but he was well-educated, well-traveled, and had secured a comfortable income for himself. I am not tall by any means (I stand a whopping 5' 3"), but my "date" was even shorter than I. It would be safe to call him a midget. Furthermore, he was bald and had a liking for completely shaving off all of his bodily hair. He drove a nice Lincoln (modified to fit his short stature), so I really couldn't complain. I've been dating him now for six months. I don't know if our little tryst will end in marriage someday or not. I just know that as long as he continues to let me chase him around the house in only a cowboy hat, screaming, "Giddy-up," I'll most likely keep him around for a while.

— Allison, 43

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