TROUBLE WITH CURVES

By Columnist Bob Bridge

Women, women, women!

So soft and pretty, yet particularly problematic and perplexing.

Relationships?

Yes, I’ve experimented with my fair share of alluring ladies. Did I learn much from those experiences?

Well …

My first girlfriend went by the moniker of Miss Kitty. Unique, huh?

Kitty was a working girl. She lived in Dodge City and owned and operated the Long Branch Saloon. Her friends were Doc and Chester, and she had a crush on a U.S. Marshal, Matt Dillon.

Matt was tall, handsome and was gifted with a swift draw. I considered challenging him to a gunfight, but his weapon wielded real bullets. I was toting a cap pistol.

I was fond of Miss Kitty, but I quickly learned long distance relationships rarely stood the test of time.

The odds were against “us.” Hence, I moved on.

I subsequently fell for a cute cowgirl, Dale Evans. She rode the range atop her trusty steed, Buttercup. And, she could warble like a whippoorwill.

Alas, it ywasn’t meant to be. Just another short-term love affair.

Roy Rogers won her heart, and soon she was singing “Happy Trails to You.“

Hey, I can take a hint.

Then, along came Polly.

Her name was Sweet Polly Purebred, and she was a news reporter. Imagine that!

She was so doggone ... pristine.

Unfortunately, Polly was a complex creature, always meandering into harm’s way. Before I could rescue her, some canine in a cape would inexplicably whisk in and save the day.

This sawed-off superman called himself Underdog. I suspected his bark was more dangerous than his bite, but ... Polly was obviously smitten with him.

You guessed it, I moved on.

My next gal was Gidget. She was cute and silly.

Our coupling was dealt a decisive blow when she flew off to become a nun. Who would have thunk it?

Demoralized, I gave up babes for baseball. That lasted until Farrah Fawcett’s poster hit the market place.

What did I see in Farrah?

Duh, have you seen the poster?

As fate would have it, she married the Six Million Dollar Man.

I decided to give love one last chance. Cameron Diaz was the ideal candidate. Such a heartthrob.

Honestly, there was something about Mary ... uh, I mean ... Cameron.

Just when I was about to pop the question, Matt Dillon entered the picture. No, not Matt Dillon the lawman, a younger Matt Dillon!

Wooing women is not for the weak in spirit.

Alas, I returned my focus to baseball.

Much like women, the athletic pastime is plagued with challenging curves. However, so far, I don’t strike out nearly as often playing baseball.

Contact Columnist Bob Bridge at 812-276-9646 or bbbbbridge@gmail.com.