“Where is your horse,” I ask him and he takes a long puff at his cigarette.
“You just have to agree to come with me, I can take a loan and get us a horse.”
"You look nice.” I say to him.
He is dressed in cowboy fittings head to toe; I’m expecting to see a horse nearby. But this is Eastlando and I am not sure where a horse would graze among these tires and hardware shops. He reminds me instantly of something my uncle and I would watch on TV- Walker Texas Ranger, but the cowboy standing in front of me looked more like the new Sherriff in another movie that makes me laugh.
‘If you agree to what I’m saying, cow girl, we shall go right now.” He again says and I remember, oh, I am wearing that hat which has lead to many conversations lately.
At times I laugh when I think of how a dress, shoe, nice bag can be the determinant of who is gonna walk home with you.
I must say, I prefer friendships based on substance, not that, since That girl has a nice dress, she is more noticeable, thus more acceptable and can be included.
As I settle in into middle age, friendship is taking on a new deeper meaning. I find that I treasure old friendships that have taken many hits over time yet survived intact, and can only tolerate new acquaintances if they can ease in into my friendship rules.
Though I'm actually not very sure what the rules are but looking around, the friends I have seem to have some characteristics that run across the whole bunch of us.