So I swear I have blogged about this before, but after I was recently reminded of this story, I searched any key word I would have used in my blog post and could not find the post at all. So if this is a repeat, I sincerely apologize. If it's not, it's definitely a post that needs to be written down for all posterity. And if I could only get a few more old men to start reading my blog, maybe someone could actually learn a lesson.
Back when I was about 20 or so, I got into a great bread-making kick. I'd make homemade bread of different varieties about 3-4 times a month. On one of these blessed fresh bread days, I was running late for work, so instead of making my lunch, I just grabbed all the ingredients to make it at work. I can't even remember specifically what type of sandwich I was making anymore, but I know that it included two pieces of freshly sliced homemade bread, mayo, cheese, and some sort of meat.
As I was assembling my sandwich in the breakroom, an older gentleman was watching me. Once the sandwich was assembled, I sat down to enjoy it. This is the conversation that ensued:
OG: That looks like homemade bread!
Me: It is homemade bread. I made it last night.
OG: And that looks like real mayo!
Me: It is real mayo!
OG: Well, if your husband doesn't come right in here and take that seat beside you, I just don't know what I'm going to do!
Me: Oh, I'm not married.
OG: Your boyfriend, then.
Me: I'm not dating anyone.
OG: Well. I just don't know what's wrong with men these days. [Pause.] I bet you're from Montana!
Me: Uh... no. I'm not from Montana.
OG: Wyoming then!
Me: I'm from Canada.
OG: Of course! Alberta! That's great farm country!
Me: I'm from Northern Ontario.
OG: Oh. [Pause.] Speak French then?
OG: Oh. [Pause.] Well, you remind me of a stout farm girl from Montana!
[Let's take a moment to point out that I was not wearing overalls and I did not have my hair done up in a French braid, okay?]
OG: In fact, there's this great book, and you remind me of the woman in the book!
He went on to tell me all about the children's book Fanny's Dream, where to boil down the plot, I can tell you, a stout farm girl is waiting for a husband who is far above her in looks and social status and all that stuff, and she ultimately ends up settling for a simple (dumb) man who is sweet but, well, you know. Simple. And dumpy. Just like Fanny is herself.
So what part of all of that was supposed to make me feel good about myself? Being like unto a stout farm girl, or settling for a stupid husband because I can't get what I really want? I mean, yes, I subsequently bought the book because it was just too funny to have been compared to the herione, and I know that the take-home message isn't "settle for a husband" or anything, but still.
And I'm more than happy to note that many years later, I found a man who I didn't have to settle for, and who happened to be everything on my list and more. But come to think of it, I have never made homemade bread for my precious Murray, so maybe this stout, Montana-farm-like girl had better get a move on that, just to show Murray how much she appreciates him!