formerly Diane's Addled Ramblings... the ramblings are still addled, just like before, and the URL is still the same...
it's just the title at the top of the page that's new

Sunday, May 31, 2009

Bless His Heart...

For most of my (unmarried) adult life, I have had the keen ability to attract rather pitiful men. I don't mean 'pitiful' in the 'won't get a job and sits on the couch all day, playing video games and eating Cheese Whiz out of the can' sense. I mean 'pitiful' in the 'stray dog' sense... you know, the ones you look at and think, “Oh, bless his heart.

Remember Troll-Guy? Uh-huh. Pitiful. And there have been others. Case in point...

When I was about 21, I worked in a video store. It was a cool job where I met loads of people and had a lot of fun. We had many regular customers who came in often -- sometimes every day. One of those customers was Lloyd. Bless his heart.

Lloyd was, I’m guessing, a couple of years older than I… I’m not really sure, as he had sort of an ageless quality about him. To be honest, he looked a bit like an overgrown baby. He was sort of… 'blobby'… not overweight, really, but roundish with little muscle tone… blobby. And his hair looked as if someone had put a bowl on his head and cut around it. Actually, I think I can say with reasonable certainty that Lloyd’s mother (who might have also been his aunt and/or his sister) was that ‘someone’. Bless his heart.

Lloyd lived back in the ‘hollers’ (or ‘hollows’ to you non-Pigsknucklian speakers) at the foot of the Blue Ridge and he worked at the poultry processing plant in Turkeygizzard (the town adjacent to Pigsknuckle). And I’m going to go out on a limb and bet that today, 23 years later, he’s still working there. He used to come to the video store after work several times a week, always with his parents (who also worked at the plant). He’d get out of his truck and mosey down the parking lot, wearing his knee-high rubber turkey-guttin’ boots, dragging a comb through his bowl-cut. Before he even entered the store, he’d look for me, his blobby face lighting up when he caught sight of me behind the counter. You could actually see him screwing up all his courage just to say hello. Bless his heart.

Lloyd spoke in slow motion (probably because he thought in slow motion) and I had to keep myself from smacking him on the back of the head in an effort to force the words out more quickly. And I really wish I could write his accent the way it sounded. The guy invented new vowel sounds. My friends and family used to love it when I imitated him and I can still make Ryan wet her pants laughing when I ‘do’ Lloyd. Anyway, our conversations always went like this:

Lloyd (blushing): Haaaa Da-ayann. Haair yoo?
Me: Hi Lloyd! I’m fine, thanks. How’re you?
Lloyd (blushing profusely): Ahm fahn. Purdy wehther wi’re havin’, ain’t it?
Me: It is. Is there anything I can help you find tonight?
Lloyd (ready to pass out): Noooope. Ah’ll just luuk ‘round, thainks.
Me: OK, well if you need help, you know where to find me!
Lloyd (grinning and bumping into the counter as he walked away): Yup. Ah’ll fahnd ya!

Bless his heart.

You see, for all my sarcasm and smart-assery, I’m actually not a mean-spirited person. I feel for people like Lloyd. Having been the underdog once or twice in my life, I tend to always root for them… and Lloyd was an underdog if ever there was one. I was always kind and friendly toward him, which, while good, meant I had to be careful. People like Lloyd have big blobby hearts inside their big blobby bodies and it’s very, very important not to break them, even inadvertently. As such, I had to humor his crush… at arm's length, anyway. And Lloyd’s crush got about as big as his rubber boots. On Valentine’s Day, he brought me a box of chocolates the size of my first car. Bless his heart.

Luckily, there wasn’t enough nerve in Lloyd’s blobby body to actually ask me out, so I never had to stomp on his heart. I don’t know that I could have, honestly. I probably would have gone. Can you imagine that date? McDonalds meets Deliverance

“You shore got a purdy mouth when you eat them chicken nuggets, Da-ayann... and Momma and Daddy think so, too.”

Lordy.

Anyway, eventually I moved away from Pigsknuckle and I never saw Lloyd again. I still think of him every now and then and wonder how life turned out for him. I really hope he met someone who appreciated his big blobby heart (and wasn’t related to him in any way) and they lived happily ever after.

So, as I say, pitiful men love me. They always have. They still do.

Another case in point…

I take Sundance to the park every day. I like the park. I meet some really nice people at the park. Occasionally I meet a guy I think I’d actually like to go out with. But of course, he never asks. Nooooo. See, when I go to the park, it’s first thing in the morning… I haven’t showered… I have no make-up on… I’m not wearing my miracle jeans… my dog smells better than I do… I’m so not pretty. I wouldn’t ask me out either. But that could all change.

Lately there’s been a guy at the park, walking the trail most mornings. He’s definitely a ‘bless his heart’ kind of guy and there is a certain ‘Lloydness’ about him. For example, he’s blobby. And he speaks in slow motion (though his accent’s not quite ‘holler-ish’). Unlike Lloyd, he doesn't wear rubber boots... but he does wear dark socks with his white sneakers (which, I swear to you, were on the wrong feet the other day). Also unlike Lloyd, he doesn't sport a bowl-cut. In fact, he’s bald. Now, I have to tell you, I usually find bald men quite sexy. But I do prefer that if someone is really going the way of the cue ball, they just take it all the way. This guy has an odd rectangular tuft of hair… just above his forehead… about 1x2 inches. It’s sort of like someone put a hair-stamp on him and tried to post him somewhere. Bless his heart.

Anyway, when I see him, I smile and say hello, as is my way. It’s obviously his way, too, so we did this in passing for about a week. Then he started chatting, as people at the park are wont to do (me included), mostly about Sundance. I’d be friendly but as soon as I could, I’d say, “Well, we’d better get going! Enjoy your walk," and I'd scoot in the other direction as fast as possible. Then, the other day, he brought me into the conversation, asking what I do, have I seen this movie or been to that restaurant, etc.

Yeah. Uh oh.

Today, though? Today he gave me the classic, “Well, you’re so pretty, your husband is one lucky fella!” Yes, he said “fella”… and then he looked pointedly at my ring finger… which is quite bare. And I wasn't quick (or smart) enough to come up with an imaginary boyfriend, let alone a husband.

Oh yeah… I see a big box of chocolates in my future...

Bless his heart.

Or mine.

25 comments:

dianne said...

Lloyd sounds kind of sweet to me, the kind of guy you might never go out with but the kind of guy who would never break your heart of hurt you. ♡

Lisa said...

ah diane you touch my heart.......i too am known for showing a kind gesture and receiving a life time admirer......blessed be sweetie xx

lisa said...

You're very kind....and it's nice to talk to people who wouldn't otherwise have anyone to talk to. (isn't that all of us Bloggers)

Just remain polite with no additional cues and in the words of Forest Gump, "Life is like a box of chocolates."

hebba said...

Oh, I feel for you, Daa-yaahn. You and I live parallel lives, you know...surrounded by blobby, Grimace-bodied men.

Protege said...

Diane, so funny, the one thing that I keep wondering is; So what did you answer when he said your husband is a lucky fella?;))
I always enjoy your writing.;))
xo

Mr London Street said...

And there's the problem in a nutshell, everyone feels compassion but nobody wants to date one of us.

Them. I mean them.

Damn.

Sam_I_am said...

I had a mental health client chase me down one day. In fact, I think that's a good topic for my next post ;-) You're such a muse!

Tabitha in Bliss said...

Diane, I laughed so hard reading this. Not at the guys, but at your descriptions of the events. I'm a very vivid reader, so my imagination was running. Too funny!

Chris @ Maugeritaville said...

Now THERE'S an idea! McLiverance! Cue banjos: Twangy twang twang TWANG - I'm lovin' it!

LMN said...

"It's sort of like someone put a hair stamp on him and tried to post him somewhere." I love your stories, Diane!! People like Lloyd love you because they sense your goodness. But you better get the back-up ring finger (I actually got one when I lived in Utah) so you can wear it when you KNOW you're going to bump into Lloyd or his buddy.

There's always, the - "sorry, I don't date men" approach if all else fails and you get stuck?!!

sherri said...

I love your great big sweet heart!

I am the same way, always feeling bad for the outcasts. I was trying to make small talk to this guy (and his wife!) at ball games because they were not "in the clique" and I couldn't stand it they they were always sitting alone. Well, to make a long story short, the guy TOTALLY misunderstands and starts stalking me, literally. Big AL had to go to the police and everything. It got really creepy and Big Al finally showed up at the guy's house and had a "talk" with him... and he didn't say Bless your heart!

It's made me a bit more cautious but honestly, I can't help it. I will smile and speak to everyone, and I'll do it even moreso to someone I think is an outcast. It's why I don't live in a big city- I would never survive!

only a movie said...

Very sweet story, nicely told. Have been there too!
:-)

Lee said...

St Diane, patron saint of blobby things and of people who say 'sorry' when you step on their foot.

Jeff said...

I always learn something from this blog. For instance, today I learned that you're not supposed to eat Cheez-Whiz right out of the can.

Next you're going to tell me I can't use my finger to eat peanut butter. Right?

Fascist!

blognut said...

Darlin', the problem is that everyone loves you. Not just the blobby weird guys, but everyone.

And? When the blobby weird guys ask you out, tell them you're a liberal, girl-dating, sort and send them on their way. Hee hee!

Dave said...

My wife has always been known for taking in strays. Case in point, me. P.S. My wife is purty too.

Soda and Candy said...

Awww. You made me hope there's a sweet, blobby Mrs Lloyd back in Pigsknuckle.

Debbie said...

I laughed through this whole post!! in a good way of course!!:) I love to read you posts!! I can often relate but never can I describe them your way!!!! :) Thanks AS ALWAYS for the smile!

She said...

I so hear ya on this one! I've attracted my share, too.

And I think Bloggus is right. Everyone loves you!

;-)

Michelle said...

Oh dear...yes, I am with you. And, god love em, old guys are quite taken with me :)

shudder

I mean really OLD guys

sigh

xxx

Heather said...

I think I know Lloyd. Only down here, his name is "Coon." Yes. Coon. That's right. Well, it's his last name, but actually prefers to go by that. The accent is identical. Bless his heart.
Good luck with the dog park guy. You almost made me snort coffee out of my nose with the whole "hair stamp" thing. :)

She said...

Thanks for teaching me how to write with an accent! I loved this! (I know I already commented, but I forgot to write that part!) I was so right there with you -- stellar writing!

Greenfingers said...

That was so very nicely told Diane. Don't know why but I felt a little sad... and then you made me laugh! Its your fantastic writing I do think!

And yeah, the underdog, somebody in female or male form who I'm always strangely attracked to as well!!

A lacking of confidence, shyness and un-inflated ego can be strangely endearing.

Lee said...

Happy?

A Woman Of No Importance said...

Miss Diane, I have that thing where only sixty or seventy year old darlings find me attractive any more... I have always 'punched above my weight' in THAT way...

You are an angel, and I am certain that you never inadvertently trod on anyone's feelings... Moreover, that you have always tried to make people feel great about themselves, as you do us! Long may you live and prosper, mon amie, ma soeur... xxooxx