She likes quite a few music genres, including rock, R and B, blues, and smooth jazz, depending on her mood. Basically, she loves anything that sounds good and is performed by accomplished musicians.  She likes symphony orchestras too, because she learned music theory in school, and understood the complexity of each instrument, and its’ contribution to the piece, structured by the brilliantly produced score. Beethoven’s Fifth is one of her favorites.  Every now and then, she dresses in a long, elegant dress that demands to hug her rhythmic hips, and suggests to her man that she would love to go to the symphony. Only a fool would turn her down.

But country music, well that is something different entirely.

She can speak several languages, if she wants, but she is completely fluent in country.  She knows all the songs, and sings them loudly in her car, windows down, never missing a word or inflection, and at the stoplight, men stare at her because she seems to be dancing in her seat.  She smiles at them while dancing and singing, then floors it and leaves them paralyzed when the light turns green, wondering if that was an angel from heaven singing Zach Brown’s Whatever it is.

She got eyes that cut you like a knife

And lips that taste like sweet red wine

And her pretty legs go to heaven each time

She drives fast, with purpose, and her hair blows round and round as she sings and feels the song in her soul—knowing that soon she will be at the country bar. She always meets her friend, knowing that combination will cause double trouble to whatever man is strong enough to look at them and bravely hold his smile. You see, the anticipation in their imaginations often causes a man’s lower lip to quiver uncontrollably.

It could be Kenny or Zach or Bille playing, but it doesn’t’ matter — the country girls want to dance even before they down their first beer. They both chose to wear Henley tops with the neck line button conveniently opened to reveal the V-neck or scoop that all hoped to see.  One picked a black Henley and the other chose a pink one, but on that hot summer day, both chose cut-off jeans and the mandatory cowboy boots —large enough around the lower leg to be floppy — forcing male eyes to follow those sculpted legs to heaven.

She knew they were staring, and several asked her to dance after buying them both drinks, and of course, she did, briefly, but her favorite was line dancing.  And when they both were on the floor line dancing, most of the men chose to sit down because they couldn’t help but watch the feminine display of joy.  They took a brief break, and sure enough, another round of beer magically appeared in front of them. But they simply smiled, and then, it was bound to happen:

The music infused their souls with such happiness and energy, they both looked at each other and decided to do it:  They told the bartender to clear off six feet on the counter, gave the man a tip, and they both got up on chairs and began to dance on the bar, moving like only they knew how to move. And yet, the simple truth is that although the crowd was cheering and hooting, the two ladies were simply enjoying the music that refused to allow them to sit.

After several songs, they jumped back down, looked at each other and laughed until their flat bellies hurt, and then she said to her friend, “I needed this so badly, thanks for coming with me.”  And with that, they both went home, singing in their separate cars, much to the disappointment of the men at the bar.

© SRCarson Publications, 2022