Romance of the rat and the snake

Whenever Miss Virgie, my beloved mentor formerly of Pascagoula, Miss., now of Carson City, Nevada, learns I am dating a new guy, she is quick to pounce.

“When’s his birthday?” she asks with urgency.

Normally, I reply, “Miss Virgie, I don’t know. I also don’t know his blood type or his conduct report from the second grade.”

These things aren’t funny to Miss Virgie. She’s very serious about romance as it lines up with the Chinese New Year calendar. I’ll have to say, though, she backs up what she believes. She’s had three husbands and all three had the very same birthday – June 21st. Now, given Miss Virgie’s Southern gift for embellishment, I would be prone to question this incredible coincidence except that Bill, husband No. 3 and a paramount of integrity, confirms it.

“Let me tell you something,” she began frantically. “This is no joking matter. You must discover his birthday sooner rather than later. If the date is wrong, you must cease this relationship immediately. No good will come from it. No good at all.”

She paused dramatically then continued. “You’re a rat.”

Jenny Dinkle said the same thing in the third grade when I told the teacher that she wasn’t wearing any panties, a fact revealed when we changed clothes for gym class. Just as an aside: Girls who don’t wear panties in the third grade grow up to be women who choose men with less discretion than even me with my disregard for birthdays. Let’s just say that Jenny is on husband number five and that doesn’t count the ones she lived in sin with.

Miss Virgie was on a roll so she wasn’t stopping. “Rats are very special, the smartest of all. Very wily and resourceful. It’s hard to find a good match for a rat.”

I’ve thought that, too, about a couple of my old boyfriends but somehow they keep finding gals to hook up with them.

“A rat,” she finally pronounced with authority. “is the best it gets. That’s you.”

Now, don’t get the wrong impression and think that Miss Virgie fawns over me. She doesn’t. She’s as hard on me as Mama is. Just give her the slightest reason and she’s on the phone, chewing me out. It is never a pretty sight.

“Now, girl, you know I love you and I’ve got to keep an eye out on you,” she’ll declare. “I can’t have you messin’ up.”

So when I started dating someone a while back, I asked his birthday so I could dutifully report it. Fear flickered across his eyes. “I don’t know about that. What if she tells you not to date me?”

I shrugged, figuring that the relationship would probably end before Miss Virgie could get her hooks into the situation anyway. “Don’t worry,” I replied.

For the first time ever, Miss Virgie was overjoyed. “He’s a snake! This is wonderful. Excellent match-up. This is the best one you’ve ever brought me. In fact, girl, this is the only good one you ever brought me.”

“I thought snakes ate rats,” I commented.

“This is serious,” she responded primly and then launched into all the reasons that snakes and rats make a good romantic partnership.

When the relationship ended, as you knew it was going to, Miss Virgie was distraught.

“This was your best chance,” she moaned morosely. “I have failed you.”

“No, you didn’t,” I reassured her. “You were absolutely right.”

“I was?” she asked weakly.

“Yes. You called it correctly. I am a rat and he is definitely a snake. The problem is that we’re the garden variety and never the twain shall meet.”

Over the phone, I heard her voice lift. “I always tell you that a little more sophisticated wouldn’t hurt a dab.”

That’s true. So, maybe one day I’ll meet a sophisticated snake.

It could happen.