Had I been with a hippie woman, we probably would have had more in common than the other women I’d been with in my life.
None of the other women ever understood the seeker I was and the spiritual revolution that was unfolding inside of me or appreciated my depth.
I believe a hippie woman would have appreciated and understood my spirituality and talked about deeper things with me occasionally.
I would have loved her free spiritedness and her unique fashion sense.
But I was never with a hippie woman.
Closest I came was when I met one who was spaced out on drugs and I was high on alcohol a few years before the k awakened in me and delivered me forever from wasted nights and alcoholic highs.
I protected the hippie woman from a friend who wanted to sexually take advantage of her in her spaced out state.
And me and the hippie woman, who was quite attractive, seemed to have a sweet sympatico.
I made a date with her to met her in a park the next day, like the song I Love the Flower Girl about a guy who sees a hippie girl in a park and becomes enamored with her.
But she never showed up.
Maybe she was so spaced out when I asked her out that she didn’t remember about the date.
In retrospect, she probably did me a favor.
Even though I liked free spirited hippie women, I wasn’t about drugs, and I was never a hippie man on the outside, always conservative in my appearance.
And a woman with a drug habit would have been like bad medicine for me.
Bob Boyd