If you’re living and breathing in this country, chances are you know a Southern man. And if you’re Southern yourself (or just wish you were), chances are you love him. He’s chivalrous, kind, and moral, but he can also sure be messy, inattentive, and just plain frustrating.

GRITS – Gentlemen Raised in the South, that is – drive Southern girls to distraction. Southern men take off hunting in the middle of the night, making a racket fit to wake the dead. They can’t ever seem to remember birthdays or anniversaries, even though they can recall every play Auburn football made in the past 15 years, including, in depth, each call the referees had wrong. They don’t understand why we need to dirty up more than one fork and use the good plates just to serve supper to the pastor when a plastic spork and a paper plate would do just as well. Those rare times when they discover that their house actually has a kitchen, it looks like Hurricane Bubba has ransacked the place. No matter how crazy they might make us, though, we can’t do without our GRITS. They might exasperate us, poor things, but we know that no matter what kind of foolishness they’re up to, their hearts are in the right place.

Who is a Southern gentleman? He’s a man in overalls with few words but lots of wisdom. He’s a rough but handsome young thing singing country songs so sad they’d make a statue cry. He’s a tough but fair businessman with a strong country accent and stronger down-home common sense. He’s a good old boy who’s always ready with a drink for his friend, and to take off his hat (or John Deere baseball cap) to any passing lady. He’s a well-dressed politician with a handshake for every man and a compliment for every woman. Whether he lives in a tar paper shack in the Tennessee hills or a columned mansion in Houston, he’s strong (some might say he is pigheaded), proud (some might say too big for his britches), and independent (some might say just plain ornery).

As much as Southern women love to complain about our men, we love them even more than we love our pearls. I hope my own girls, and maybe even their mother, find their own Southern gentlemen to settle down with someday. If life is like a big pan of cornbread, Southern men are the molasses that make it taste so sweet (even if they do mess up the dishes).

A Southern man is also enough to turn this blonde head frosty gray. He can’t concentrate on what a woman’s saying for longer than a commercial break (and not even that long if a beer commercial is on). He can’t remember to put the milk back in the refrigerator, and you can bet your britches that if he does, he’ll never find the carton again. He plows up half the lawn to plant a few tomatoes. Southern men are enough to drive a sane woman clean out of her head.

No matter how crazy they make us, though, isn’t it funny that we can’t stop thinking about them? At the end of the party, the old hens always seem to gather together in the kitchen, and, when we do, you can bet that men are the subject of conversation. And, yes, we do talk a blue streak on the phone, but it’s only because we have those Southern men to talk about. We get tickled talking about our Southern men, but no matter how much we tease them, we know that we can’t do without them. Yes, we complain, but you can bet there’s nobody we’d rather go home with at the end of the night. I hope that our dear Southern men take our ribbing in the spirit of fun.

I love the Southern man’s honor, his honesty, his strength, and even his faults. He makes me pull my hair out in frustration sometimes, but he also makes life a whole lot more interesting. He’s the son we want to tuck into bed at night and the husband we want to to wake up to in the morning. He’s a Southern man, and, goodness, honey, he’s a peach.