I have an eclectic mix of customers who come in and out of my video store. (If you don’t know, the video store is where my EAT money comes from ‘cause despite what folks think, romance authors do not make big money, we only get paid twice a year when royalty checks come out, most times they only amount to a dollar or two, and if we want to EAT, we do other things on the side.)
But back to my customers. It’s a small town. A few small minds. Many transplants from larger, more metropolitan areas. Some highly educated. Some not. Most exceptionally friendly. One or two just a tad too friendly.
Mr. Sir is a good-old guy from a long line of good-old guys. He’s opinionated, considers himself quite liberal despite his affection for the Republican party and his homophobia, never been married, and has no kids. He’s easily pushing 70 and he visits me regularly to chat.
Mr. Sir (and that is his legal name ‘cause I done seen his driver’s license) thumps a bible when it will serve his point but forgets all about the scriptures when it serves his needs. A few weeks back he explained to me that he only dates married women. It would seem that unhappily married women will rock a man in the bedroom. I got this whole song and dance about them needing to release all that pent up frustration and anger. Mr. Sir wasn’t thinking at all about those pesky Commandments, forgetting the dictum that “thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife”. He did however explain when and where God said homosexuality was an abomination and an affront to the Christian spirit. That’s why he won’t watch the movie Brokeback Mountain or ride his Harley with other guys.
Today, he explained how the food industry has all of us fat people (and yes, the son-of-a-biscuit called me fat) fooled. Seems fat-free really isn’t fat free at all. He then gave me some diet advice, telling me not to waste my time with that granola bar and yogurt I was snacking on. According to Mr. Sir, all I need to do is stop bending my elbow at the table. His words, not mine. Then he asked me if I had started dating since my divorce. When I told him that I’d found a really great guy, he nodded his head excitedly. Then he told he that he had thought so since I’ve really fixed myself up lately. I wanted to ask if I’d really looked that bad before but I figured his respond would only annoy me.
I smiled politely, convinced him to rent a movie I knew had a latent homosexual theme, then sent him on his way. I’m sure he’ll thank me tomorrow.
But back to my customers. It’s a small town. A few small minds. Many transplants from larger, more metropolitan areas. Some highly educated. Some not. Most exceptionally friendly. One or two just a tad too friendly.
Mr. Sir is a good-old guy from a long line of good-old guys. He’s opinionated, considers himself quite liberal despite his affection for the Republican party and his homophobia, never been married, and has no kids. He’s easily pushing 70 and he visits me regularly to chat.
Mr. Sir (and that is his legal name ‘cause I done seen his driver’s license) thumps a bible when it will serve his point but forgets all about the scriptures when it serves his needs. A few weeks back he explained to me that he only dates married women. It would seem that unhappily married women will rock a man in the bedroom. I got this whole song and dance about them needing to release all that pent up frustration and anger. Mr. Sir wasn’t thinking at all about those pesky Commandments, forgetting the dictum that “thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife”. He did however explain when and where God said homosexuality was an abomination and an affront to the Christian spirit. That’s why he won’t watch the movie Brokeback Mountain or ride his Harley with other guys.
Today, he explained how the food industry has all of us fat people (and yes, the son-of-a-biscuit called me fat) fooled. Seems fat-free really isn’t fat free at all. He then gave me some diet advice, telling me not to waste my time with that granola bar and yogurt I was snacking on. According to Mr. Sir, all I need to do is stop bending my elbow at the table. His words, not mine. Then he asked me if I had started dating since my divorce. When I told him that I’d found a really great guy, he nodded his head excitedly. Then he told he that he had thought so since I’ve really fixed myself up lately. I wanted to ask if I’d really looked that bad before but I figured his respond would only annoy me.
I smiled politely, convinced him to rent a movie I knew had a latent homosexual theme, then sent him on his way. I’m sure he’ll thank me tomorrow.
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