I didn't really think he was a real cowboy, even with the boots he was wearing. I mean, how many real cowboys are there in the world anymore?
I was in the country, just outside of Provo, for some unknown reason that had to do with my boyfriend and his job. I'd agreed to come along to keep him company but then he was gone all day working and I was stuck with nothing to do.
I had told myself it would be a good chance to write more, to really get started on my new novel. I was going to push the gay novel in a new direction - no coming out story, no mythical gay city on the hill full of whacky characters. No - my gay novel was going to be full of the guys I knew - hot queens with too much money who know that with the right haircut, tattoos and perfect pecs, you can become one of the chosen few. This wasn't some bitter tirade against the perfect gay man - that's the kicker. To become the ultimate gay stereotype represents supreme freedom from any of the rules that bind mere mortals and my protagonists use that freedom to truly change the world.
A-Gay as Super-Gay: At least, that's the idea in my head but I haven't really thought it through. That's what I was going to do on this trip in Montana, wait... no Utah. Wherever the fuck we are. But I haven't really written anything much. Confinement for writers is over-rated.