Why You Can’t Find the Country Girls

Reader Contribution by Cait Carpenter
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I’m going to start this post off by pointing out that although I absolutely abhor the term “country girl,” for ease of communication, I am going to use it, though I will shudder each time I type those words. Country girl. Eeh.

So, I have these buddies of the male variety that I often see posting on Facebook that they cannot find a good country woman. I read this and wonder, just how rare are we? “Real” country women? “Good” country woman? (And what’s a “bad” country woman, for that matter?) I mean, I’m right here, and my friends are pretty solid, concrete human beings. They aren’t virtual or made of polyester. Some could even be considered organic!

I realize the problem when I run into these guys at the bar with their arms around little shortie-short chickies in straw hats and very, very clean cowboy boots. Here’s the first problem – “real” country girls (ugh) are in disguise. We are literally camouflaged, unless you know what to look for. A wise woman once said that boot tops are like lingerie – they make you feel pretty, but they should be hidden to most and not flashed around. Currently I’m dressed like an 80-year old grandmother in muck boots and, although I wouldn’t go out like this, I’m sure there are a bunch of other women out there raising their glass when I say – we DON’T look like that.

Secondly, we probably aren’t at the bar. Granted, we’re more likely to be at the bar then at a club, but we’re also more likely to be cooking dinner or having hard cider on the porch then be at the bar. That could also be beer on the porch, but as my digestives have an aversion to gluten, I must settle for hard cider. Actually, scratch that, I do not settle. Hard cider, when consumed in moderation, is wonderfulicious. Back on topic, though, seriously. Two or three ciders costs 50 pounds of rabbit food. I can NOT leave pounds and pounds of rabbit food at the bar, I just can’t. Also, I have to milk very early in the morning.

Besides us being camouflaged and bound by priorities, we also seek very specific traits in a mate. One of these traits is the ability to clean my barn. I mean, our barns, of course. I’m not talking about me here, my boyfriend lives to clean my barn. Hi, honey! Other attractive things include the ability to bring home the bacon (literally, bring us bacon), extensive knowledge of tractor implements and an urge to use them, and ownership of a beautiful stock trailer.

I could write a full dissertation on elements that ensure authenticity of a country girl (barf), but I don’t have time for all that. There are hungry rabbits and goats full of milk calling my name. If you’d like, you’re more than welcome to come help. Boyfriend, that’s your cue!

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