A Comeback in the Finest Form

On Saturday, I sat on a metal chair in an alley patio with the Arizona sun warming my face.   

The atmosphere made complete by lights strung from the roof tops above and grafitti murals painted on the walls.  

Eating fish tacos and nachos for lunch while sipping cucumber margaritas after an unsuccessful jewelry shopping escapade.  

Because it turns out, I don't have eleven hundred dollars to spend on a ring.  Even if I really really really like it.  

The cocktails and salsa accompanied by my mom and aunt's chitter chatter eased my feelings of well, darn it...I need a sugar daddy.  I know those aren't a reality nor a good idea but when a ring calls your name, sometimes those thoughts flash.  

As I finished my last chip, I heard from the next table, "Hey.  Do you live here?"  

I turned my chair a bit to see a man wearing sunglasses and an I'm cool, oh yes I am attitude.  I then replied with a smile, "No.  I'm actually from North Dakota."  

He tipped back in his chair ever so slightly and with even more of an I'm cooler than you chuckle replied, "Isn't that southern Canada?"  

I politely uncrossed my cowboy boot as I ever so slightly leaned forward wearing an I'm going to be so sweet little eye twinkle and came instantly back with, "You want me to call this northern Mexico?"  

His mouth dropped open.  

He looked at me.

I looked at him.

He laughed.  A knee slapping laugh.

I laughed back. 

His wife quickly chirped in with, "I'm sorry.  I can't control him sometimes."  

The man exclaimed before I could get a word in, "She can handle herself."  As he pointed at me with his finger and looked at me with a different light in his eyes.  A respectful light.   

My answer?  

My answer was, "Yes I sure can."  

Then we went on to visit about how I was on a long weekend trip with my mom to check out their house for the first time and how I should really probably move there and Momma Debi chirped in with, "I am not responsible for her actions."  And so on and so on.  

As I stood up, put my own sunglasses on, and walked away in my cowboy boots...all thoughts of wanting or needing a sugar daddy to buy me a fancy ring were gone.  Long gone.  

Because I can handle myself.