Someone once was asked me why it took me so long to find a husband. I wasn’t quite sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult, but I guess people assume that if you have a pretty face you should be married early on, that being single past the age of twenty five is unacceptable and they start to think you’re a lesbian. Well let me tell you something. I happened to be one of those people who were in no rush to be married. I enjoyed being single. I did whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I was free and I wasn’t quite sure if my freedom was something I was ready to give up. It’s not like I didn’t have an opportunity if I wanted to. Before I met my husband I was proposed to five times, thank you very much. Of course I only accepted one, but you can clearly see how that turned out. For me, finding a husband was the easy part. It was finding the “right” husband that was a bit of a challenge. I can probably write a book about my search for Prince Charming and all the frogs I had to kiss in between, but for now, consider this a teaser. So let me reminisce for a bit, starting at the age of 18 just to make things legal. I was with a guy that convinced me to follow him three thousand miles away because he just couldn’t live without me. I find out shortly after moving that he had a one night stand with someone while trying to convince me. I don’t care if we were broken up and you got drunk over it. I felt tricked so I had to cut him loose. After mister trickster, I decided to date someone ten years older hoping he was more mature and distinguished. I was right. He was so romantic, always saying and doing the right things. I even remember him going to a phone booth in the middle of a hurricane just to make sure I was okay. And when his car broke down, he rode his bicycle thirty miles to see me. Of course when I found out that he couldn’t get a car loan because of his bad credit and asked if I can co-sign for him, it was time for me to bail. And then there was the guy I thought was the one. He was perfect except for one flaw; his mother. Good thing I didn’t marry him because let’s face it, three’s a crowd. There was a self made millionaire from NY. I had to break up with him because I couldn’t stand his accent. I remember meeting a fireman who wanted to shuck my corn, and I mean literally. His problem was that I was only able to get a hold of him when he was at work. When I confronted him of my concern and accused him of having a wife, he acted stupid. I hung up on him and never spoke to him again, all the while hoping my house doesn’t catch fire. I finally gave a guy a chance after courting me for six months just to find him bumpin’ and grindin’ at a club with someone else. Hello? Can you be a bit more discreet if you’re gonna try to be a player? But that’s not why I ended it. I felt insulted because she looked like she fell from the ugly tree and got run over by a truck. If you’re gonna date someone else while you’re dating me, try to find someone similar, if not better than me. I dated a personal trainer that took his training a little too personal, if you know what I mean. A doctor that I shared many interests with, including men. Another fireman who slept with a grandmother. I don’t care if she was only in her forties. A grandma is a grandma. Period. There was an Air Force captain that was hung like a horse. I had to kick him out of my house because I was sure I would die if anything progressed between us. All I can see was my obituary saying “Cate. Loving daughter. Wonderful friend. Decent human being. Died of over stimulation.” I was fascinated by an eloquent engineer. He certainly knew how to work and run an engine. So much that one night, he and his friend decided to hit the town and picked up some random chic to bring home to his house and ran a train on her. He tried to blame it on me for making him wait too long for sex. And according to him, it wasn’t a threesome. Whatever. It was certainly disgusting. Oh, did I mention he was still hung up on his stripper ex girlfriend? Ha! How about a baller who took me on a very expensive romantic weekend getaway just to ask me later why I didn’t wanna have sex with him after spending so much on me. Um that’s because I’m not a whore, stupid! I hung out with a chiropractor by day, gigolo by night. A Navy SEAL that was way too cocky for my taste. A business owner from Hicksville. A bible thumper. A closet married man. A psycho and a stalker. A professional dater who was an habitual liar. A dead beat dad who gave up his paternal rights. A nymph who will have sex with anything that moves, and he did. There’s just way too many guys and too many stories to list guys. Perhaps a book is not such a bad idea huh? Now I don’t want everyone thinking that I dated nothing but losers because there were also plenty of men that I felt were absolutely perfect, just not perfect for me. The fact that I dated a lot of men helped me figure out what my likes and dislikes were. So when my husband came into the picture, I was well aware of what kind of man I was willing to share my life with. And let me conclude by saying that waiting for Mister Right was definitely worth it, because in the end, I ended up with the best.
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