I spent the President’s Day weekend down South — all the way to Nashville, Tennessee.
I like Southern guys. Even despite the fact that when I tell any of them that I live in Los Angeles, they make this face:
(Let’s be honest – I don’t really blame them for making that face.)
The men of the South are like a completely different species than the men of Southern California. They open the door for you, they pay for drinks, and they have no problem walking right up to you and simply saying hello in a friendly, non-creepy manner (although I am sure at the end of the day, they are trying to get into your pants). Overall, I enjoyed my time chatting with the unassuming men of the South, even though I had to spend most of it biting my liberal tongue.
My favorite encounter of the weekend was the guy from rural Virginia who told me that he shot squirrels and other things as a living, but that since I was a city girl from LA, I probably wouldn’t understand.
He was right; I didn’t understand.