I live on a farm—scratch that, I lived on a farm. I was on my way to LA to live amongst the rich and famous, to work for the rich and famous. I did not leave a farm, and a seriously complicated relationship, just to dive back into another one. Yet, there I was, falling for a rock star who was so not my type of man, it was scary. Could I ever truly leave the farm and the man I left behind and start over? Was this new relationship just a rebound from the last?
I had one type of woman all my life. I had this image of her from as young as a boy. She’d be petite, beautiful, long blonde hair, quiet, someone who would stand behind me as I rose to fame with my band mates. I did not see myself with a Southern, loud-mouth Amazon of a woman who drove me up the wall. I didn’t have time to be chasing a woman. They usually came to me. But here I am, trying to win over a woman who wasn’t even my type.