Читать книгу Don't Sleep With A Bubba: Unless Your Eggs Are In Wheelchairs - Susan Reinhardt - Страница 7

For the record, I once loved a Bubba. A man whose real name I don’t know to this day. He was charming, handsome, funny, and had great teeth and a laugh that still rings in my ears and heart. He did not fit the stereotypical Southern-boy Bubba who awakens drunk, terrorizes cats, gets mean on liquor, chews, 4ts, totes a gun and drives a Ford F-150.

Well, he did have a truck. But that’s about all.

When I say, “Don’t sleep with a Bubba.” I’m referring to men who are bumpkins with bad attitudes. It’s nothing against the name, which Mama says is a nickname for “brother.”

But we all know that Bubbas, while they can fix things and drink a case of rotgut beer without throwing up, just aren’t…well…marriage material.

And if you sleep with one, and he’s good (if sober, chances are he will be), you may get all mixed up emotionally, as women are prone to do, and actually think you love him and end up marrying him.

As for all of you who’ve married Bubbas and are happy, I’m delighted.

Maybe if my own Bubba hadn’t dumped me after the first date, the book would have a different title. Then again, maybe not.

In the words of my wise neighbor, who’s African American and a doctor at the Veteran’s Administration Medical Center, “Bubbas need love, too.”