Lance Was a Drifter

Lance was a drifter, a gypsy, a loner, a lone wolf. Proud of it. Not a highway man, not a flim-flam man, but a man who had traveled and knew things. He had never settled down. Or so he thought. Until he met Lucy. He recognized her instantly. A blue-eyed, dark-haired gal with a personality that preceded her into nightclubs. She had the best laugh in six counties. A girl with a song in her heart. A woman who had no idea how startlingly pretty she was. She captured him instantly. When Lance turned and looked into her eyes, He knew he had come home. He would never be a happy drifter again. He had met his world. She did not realize. Had no idea, but he was determined and he pursued her recklessly. It became annoying and disturbing. She was fearful of him. He became angry. Another mean woman, teasing him, leading him on. He never realized he was the problem. He was given his eighth restraining order, and mad as hell about it. Just another tease. What is wrong with all of these women? He wondered. Never recognizing his smothering, incessant, exasperating, ways frightened them. Never seeing himself the way others saw him. Lance, drifter, a gypsy, a loner, a lone wolf, meeting his true love in every bar nightly.