Dobie Maxwell's 'Dented Can' Diary: Missing A Mrs.

Sunday January 19^th, 2014 – Gurnee, IL

   Today happens to be the birthday of not one but a nefarious pair of women that managed to get where few ever have and slither their way into my heart only to stomp on it like a bushel of wine grapes. I don’t know if I believe in astrology or not, but having a pair of women born on the very same day who scorched me that badly seems like more than coincidence but who can prove it?

   I’m the first to painfully admit my track record is beyond horrific when it comes to women and relationships, but most of it is due to the fact I’ve had so many other problems to deal with in life I never had a chance. I knew in my head I wasn’t ready, and wanted to wait until I knew I was.

   I had no idea it would take this long, but I’m finally in a place I feel comfortable opening up to a woman and really sharing my life. That’s what I always thought a marriage should be, even if I didn’t have any close to me to model. My grandparents who raised me fought worse than Packer and Bear fans, and my biological parents should never have had one much less a trio of children.

   I was always afraid of not only behaving like my loutish father to my wife, but especially being mean to even one child. I’m at the age now where most people are preparing for grandchildren if they don’t already have them but I haven’t even been engaged to anyone. I’m way off the charts.

   I know I could have forced the issue and gone through the motions, but that would have spelled disaster with a capital ‘D’ in the biggest font ever used. Looking at how my life has gone to date, I can’t see any of the women I’ve known staying with me through those ugly times. I’m sure I’d be divorced by now, and who knows how many kids I’d be disappointing? That wasn’t my style.

   Now it’s different. I’m feeling a whole new groove starting, and I can totally picture myself in a healthy and mutually beneficial relationship with a functional woman. Someone divorced isn’t a problem at all depending on the situation, and neither are kids. I love them, and most love me.

   Coming at it from this angle at this age brings a whole different set of circumstances than it did in my younger years when I had something to prove to everyone – including myself. I don’t have that need anymore, and in fact I’m pretty happy with the way I turned out. I may be a little rough around the edges in places, but there’s a good heart inside and some woman will get a good man.

   I may not be Brad Pitt, but I’m not The Elephant Man either. I’m just a guy on the outside, but on the inside I’m a giant teddy bear. That’s what one of the two ice queens who are having their birthday today used to tell me, and then she dropped the bomb. Nice guys seem to get the shaft.

   I do think there’s a quality woman out there for me, but where she is I don’t know. I don’t want to start joining dating services and play that game if I don’t have to. I’m asking the universe for a woman that is at least partially sane and doesn’t look like she spent thirty years on a chain gang.

   A few weeks ago I wrote a letter to a woman I had the extreme hots for in the ‘80s. She didn’t even answer my note, so I’m assuming she’s not interested. One down, the rest of the females on the planet to go. No worries. It’s her loss. I’m in the best mental space I’ve ever been, and I think that should help attract the right one for me right now. I’m putting it out there, and letting it go.