Confessions of a Gate Getter: Biased, Unsolicited Advice for Hopeless Romantics

By M.P. Cremer

When I was a little pig-tailed girl,

I had but one dream in mind. 

I wanted to marry myself a cowboy, 

I didn’t think he’d be too hard to find. 

I longed for a Quigly, a Gus or a Doc, 

a Western man who’d love without regret. 

He’d save me from all the bums and bad guys,

then we’d ride off into the sunset.

But it took me a few frogs to find my prince,

and within that I’d learn a lesson. 

The term “cowboy” is fairly broad nowadays,

and it’s an issue I won’t shy away from adressin’. 

We’ll start with the rodeo roughies –

reckless, tough and charming.

You’ll fall for them in eight seconds flat,

but I promise, you’re not their only darling.

Horse trainers are next in line –

they can be sweet as honey. 

But don’t expect any elegant dates, 

their fancy horse eats all their money. 

Day hands aren’t that bad,

although a steady job for them is pretty rare. 

I’d say they’re a decent choice to date,

if they could ever find the time to spare. 

Now plow boys are a different breed – 

a noble career spent on the seat of a tractor. 

But their job always depends on the rain, 

I’d marry one if unpredictable weather wasn’t a factor. 

Show jocks barely make this list –

their hats are polo, not felt or straw. 

These guys focus more on furry steers and fancy jeans,

than their money, their home and, sometimes, the law. 

Dudes’ll make me roll my eyes,

they try hard but always seem to fail. 

It’s why they’re nomad cowpunchers – 

they’re forced to hit the trail. 

Wannabes are my least favorite “cowboys,”

they may wear the uniform but never see battle. 

And they’ll leave you feeling foolish and hoodwinked

when you realize they’re all hat and no cattle. 

I’ve saved the best for last, my dears –

one who’s smart, kind and loyal ‘til the end.  

He’s the hardest working guy I know,

and he’s called the cattleman. 

He knows his way around a cow, a plow, 

a horse, a barn and a truck. 

He’s got a certain, subtle kindness about him, 

and if you catch him, you’re in luck. 

I myself caught a cattleman a few years ago,

I won’t bore you with the sappy details. 

But he treats me right, makes me laugh,

and his love for me never fails. 

So don’t be left with broken hearts

by the punchers and posers and players. 

Set your sights on a cattleman, girls,

enjoy their big hearts and bountiful grazing acres.