Montana

On my journeying throughout the wonderful state of Montana, I discovered something about myself.

I have a deeply buried (almost unbeknownst to myself) resevoir of hatred for rednecks and all that they stand for. A hatred that actually ended up with me putting myself in a not so safe position in order to fuck with aforementioned redneck.

Playing pool at Whiskey Gulch (I shit you not, Whiskey Gulch), my coworker and I come across a group of Nebraska boys calling each other "homo" and generally being what boys from Nebraska are. Looking over at their table, I find myself thinking, "I hate you so bad." Of course they come over to hit on us (we're the only single girls in a fifty mile radius), and I decide to fuck with the one that's all over me.

Fucking with leads to him begging me to fuck him in the ass with a dildo. Direct quote: "I need to get rammed."

How do I feel? Triumphant and amazed. I singlehandedly managed to get redneck to offer up his deepest, most homoerotic desires.

Then I have a dream in which I am the target of a hate crime because I was the harbinger of some homophobic rednecks internalized homoerotic desires that, when expressed, lead to violence. After waking from said scary dream, I realized just how dangerous rednecks are when they realize that they're gay and just want some ass action.

Shit. I'm glad I got out alive but I'm also glad that I had some lame ass lame hater begging me to throw him against the wall. And I feel like I've lived a little more than I had at this point last week.