Howdy Partner!

So there I was in the movie theater, watching this movie about an actor whom I've drooled over in his first gay role, and I thought to myself, it could be worse. I could be at a different time in my life. As much as I'm frustrated by the "media" calling this love story between two cowpokes "controversial", I could be living the lives of these cowboys. Forced to love in secret. That is, if I could find someone to love....

Rewind. This past weekend was our football championship game, the end of a season where I thought I would meet someone unique, someone who I could click with and fall in love. Was that so much to ask? So there I was, at the bar after the Gay Superbowl, and I thought to myself, well shit, no such luck. No matter. I had friends. Good friends. And we were celebrating. We had had fun season on the field, but no sparks off. Then, while I was toasting you Lavurn, and we spotted a cute boy pretending to watch a football game in the sports bar. I sauntered over and began getting his information. Came from Canada? Good. Doesn't go out to bars more than once a week? Great. Vitamin salesman? Ignore.

Hours later, I had decided that maybe I should throw caution to the wind, just like those cowboys in the tent, and go for it. He suggested we leave the bar. I had been drinking for a mere 8 hours, so I was ready to call it quits. Then he suggested we go to one more place. A trashy bar with a name that lands like a thud in the water. Splash! Well, how bad could it be? I mean, at least I'd look more attractive than the sad sorts that frequent this establishment on a Sunday night. But truthfully, Splash is just not a good luck charm for me, so as we checked our coats, I told my future beau that I was anxious about getting lost in the crowd. He said, "Don't worry. We came in together. We leave together!" That sounded promising from my new faithful lover. That is until two minutes later he was chatting up a go-go boy and headed to the backroom with him. Sigh. I head home dejected, but not surprised.

Fast forward. So I sit in the movie theater watching the closing credits, satisfied that the tragic cowboy love story should end as the living lover watches over the bloody clothes of his dead lover, and I sigh to myself again. And then I wrap myself up in my dead lover's coat and head home.