Rethinking my rethinking

Where is your son?  The entire conversation started innocently enough.

I was scrubbing the hoofed one into a frothy lather and the head barn groom was leaning on his pitchfork nearby, taking a breather from his feeding, turnout and cleaning duties watching us closely.

He’s at his dad’s house today.  I told him.

His dad’s house?

Yeah.  He goes to his dad’s house from Friday morning to Saturday evening.

You don’t live with his dad?

No. We’re divorced.

Really?  He seemed genuinely shocked.  Do you have a boyfirend?

Not anymore.  I just ended something this week.

He raised his eyebrow at me rather pointedly.  I’m sorry. Something in his voice told me, Not really.

Eh, I’m not.  Turns out I seriously dodged a bullet.

Smiling at me. Well you don’t have anything to worry about.  You’re a beautiful woman.  You’ll find another one. Wink.

I felt myself blushing  as the conversation slowly turned to racy but innocent flirting.

Anyone who knows me knows I have a horrid, easily exploitable weakness for foreign men.  Anyone who REALLY knows me knows that if that foreign man is from any Spanish or Portuguese speaking country, well… Game over for my common sense. No exception here.  Barn Boy and I continued our flirty chat as he help me carry my horse show gear to my car, then I bid him farewell with a wink.

So, I’ve been rethinking my rethinking.  I exited my really crappy marriage and made a vow that 1) I was going to take a significant amount of time off to regroup, and that 2) when I did come back on the scene I was going to make sure I did things exactly right… whatever that means.  After all, I was now a single mom and that means following a strict, unwriten mandate of decorum.  Kind of like when I graduated from law school and traded in my trusty, rusty jeep for a European sedan with leather seats and dark, tinted windows because now I was an attorney, a prosecutor no less, and had to portray a certain image?   In a nostalgic moment, I tried driving that sedan down a dirt, forest service road once and just traded it back in for something more me.  I’ve never been one for labels and strict codes of conduct, so what’s happening here?

I have come to the conclusion that before I jump back in to something serious again, I need to lighten up and  “make a few bad decisions.”   Go out and just have some fun.  Blow it out. No no no.  I’m not going to have a tryst in the hay loft with Barn Boy.  I have better boundaries than that.   But the flip conversation, pearly white teeth, and steaming hot Latin vibrato did more than plenty to jump start my brain back to uninhibited, pre marriage and divorce me mode.  Screw the rules for a while.  I need some fun. And so long as it’s limited to Friday evening  – Saturday afternoon, what’s the harm?

Look out boys.  I’m back.