Picture of the Weekend, Aiming Low and One of the Girls

Not only did we survive another weekend, but we also managed to snap this great picture of Kirby holding her baby brother. Isn’t it cute? If only every moment of the adjusting phase were filled with such cuteness. The picture is pretty much a tease, though, because it’s the only original content I have in today’s effort. Not a lotta writing going on this weekend.

Well, I did write one thing, but it’s for Aiming Low — a fantastically clever and funny website that I’m extremely fired up to write for. So as a way of celebrating my new association with them, I’m re-posting an old post that has an Aiming Low connection, albeit a tenuous one. You see, one of the Aiming Low writers is an extremely talented and versatile woman named Schmutzie. And one of the many things she does is share great writing with her readers each and every week via a feature of her blog known as Five Star Friday. Last year, I made the cut with a post I wrote called One of the Girls. If you’re down for reading, click read more and you’ll see it after the jump. Oh. And real quick? It should be noted that the entire post was written tongue-in-cheek and that I absolutely LOVE the woman I refer to as Cindy. Okay, without further ado…

One of the Girls

Lovie and I ran into one of her childhood friends at a restaurant this past Sunday — a woman I’ll call Cindy. Though I don’t know her very well, I’m a big fan. So whenever I see her, I always chat her up. The handful of conversations we’ve had have all been pleasant ones, filled with rapid back-and-forths and sprinkled with clever one-liners. Our rapport is excellent.

“You’re a man of mystery,” she said to me, looking lovely in her Sunday best.

“Oh really?” I asked. “How so?”

“My mom is always asking about you. She wants to know what Lovie’s husband is all about. You know what I tell her?”

“What’s that?” I asked, preparing to greet the series of compliments that were sure to follow with the perfect mix of appreciation and modesty.

“I tell her what a girls’ guy you are.”

Record scratch.

“I’m sorry?” I said, wondering if I had misheard, or if she had actually meant ladies’ man or some other complimentary moniker.

“I tell her how fun you are to talk to,” she explained. “How it’s just like chatting with one of the girls.”

An awkward silence ensued.

“And that you’re, you know, a real girls’ guy.”

Once concerned Cindy’s comments would render me visibly self-smitten, I quickly downshifted into damage control, hoping only that my expression wouldn’t reveal the fact that my engine was revving with disbelief, if not disapproval.

“I would have gone with versatile,” I suggested, wondering if I had come off as rude as I had feared.

But who could have blamed me. Girls’ guy? I wonder if my camping buddies think I’m a girls’ guy. What about my bookie? Or the rough-and-tumble, blue-collar types who work at the countertop shop I co-own? (Update — I sold my share of that business last year.) Or how about Chris Chambliss, the close friend I section hike the Appalachian Trail with? During our annual, week-long trips — the ones spent trekking up and down the sides of mountains, carrying forty-pound backpacks 18 miles a day — I wonder if he ever looks at me and thinks, you know, as much as I love hiking with Osborne, what I’d really like to do is clutch a hot cup of coffee, plop down a comfy sofa, and watch The View with that son-of-a-bitch.

I have a question. Since when did being unafraid to banter back and forth with one of Lovie’s all-time faves suddenly turn me into RuPaul? I’m many things. And easy to talk to is one of them. But does that really make me a candidate to tag along on a weekend trip to Atlanta for a three-day Nieman Marcus bender?

As I drove to work on Monday morning, I replayed the conversation in my head. Maybe I was wearing my sensitive panties, I thought. So I asked my co-worker and close friend Shane. (Edit — again, I sold my share of that business and no longer work there…)

“Now what did she say, again?”

“That I was a real girls’ guy.”

“Was she serious?”

“Yeah, I think.”

“Buddy,” he responded while shaking his head. “That sucks.”

So much for the sensitive-panties theory.

Next time I see Cindy at a party, I’ll remember to stay on the boys’ side of the room and talk about the stock market and auto parts while belching loudly and occasionally readjusting my gigantic package. I’ll only cross over to the girls’ side to inform Lovie that her cowboy needs a drink.

Bourbon, bitch.

Harsh? Maybe, but I have to be careful not to use too many words or else I might come off all chatty. Wouldn’t wanna give anyone the wrong idea.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta go. I DVRed Glee and I have just enough time to watch it before my weekly mani / pedi.

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About john cave osborne

John Cave Osborne is a writer whose work has appeared on such sites as DisneyBaby, Babble, YahooShine, TLC and the Huffington Post. He was also referenced by Jezebel one time, but he’s pretty sure they were making fun of him. He and his wife, Caroline, live with their five children and spastic dog in Knoxville, TN. Nothing annoys him more than joke-heavy bios written in the third person, with the possible exception of Corey Feldman.

  • Jwestgate02715

    Did you ever consider doing stand-up? My cheeks are sore from laughing. On a serious note; once you’ve crossed that line into being a “girls’ guy” your only hope is to either casually adjust the boys in front of her the next you meet or ask her to pull your finger and release a fart of epic proportions followed by a fist bump.

    • http://johncaveosborne.com John Cave Osborne

      i’ll go with a readjustment of my gigantic package, thank you very much.

  • http://fathermuskrat.com/ muskrat

    No wonder you seemed so out of place and awkward at the M3 (Modern Media MAN) Summit in Atlanta last year.  Clearly, you belong with me in San Diego in a few days for BlogHer. 

    • http://johncaveosborne.com John Cave Osborne

      that’s funny. essentially you just said that i’m less of a man b/c i don’t fit the profile of a typical daddy blogger.

  • GreenInOC

    All of my Mom’s friends LOVED my Dad (to be fair, pretty much everyone that met him did!).  He’d sit and chat with all of them and share a diet soda.  

    My Mom wondered aloud one day, “You know, you are the only one of all the men who will sit and talk to us.”  My Dad’s eyes twinkled (that meant he was being naughty) and he gave her a sly grin, “Yep, I know!”, followed by a hearty laugh.

    He LOVED women and if being around more of them with the approval of his wife meant sharing a soda with them and chatting them up, he was down!

    • http://johncaveosborne.com John Cave Osborne

      holy cow. what a great description of your dad. you did him proud on that one. and truth be told? i’ve always been down w. the ladies, myself. it’s the price you pay, i suppose, for being in touch! thank you so much for bragging on your dad like that. i loved that comment…

  • Debbie

    What a beautiful picture!!!

    • http://johncaveosborne.com John Cave Osborne

      Debbie, thank you! i’m glad someone commented on it. i LOVE the smile Peanut’s got goin’ in it… i have a feeling that these are going to be some incredibly rich photograph years…