You live in a really boring town where the only sex you've ever had has been gay sex with straight truckers who have been on the road so long they don't care what they have sex with, just as long as he or she or it is tender and will listen when they whisper their dreams and secrets in the back of cab. It keeps the loneliness at bay, but you can't help but think there has to be more.
'Is this all there is?' you'll say to Buzz, a Portland man sporting a wedding ring who's driving a couple hundred radios down to Tennessee. You and he will be laying together in the back of his cab on a blanket he bought in Mexico. Buzz will be absently running his fingers through the hair on your chest.
'No offense,' you'll say. 'But all you straight truckers are all the same. You buy me some pie. You put your thing in my mouth. Then you chase me around the parking lot with a tire iron. I want romance.'
'Who says I'm straight?' Buzz will say with a smile.
You'll look at his ring. 'Commitment ceremony,' Buzz will say. 'Stephen's a pharmacist, and he understands that I get lonely on the road.'
Your heart will do a little dance. 'So I just had gay sex with a gay trucker?' you'll almost sing.
Buzz will say, 'I'm gonna be driving a couple hundred thousand Pokemon cards out to New Mexico next month. You gonna be in town?'
'I'll be here,' you'll say through a big smile.
'It's a date then,' Buzz will say.
A date. A real date. With a real gay trucker. There've been so many empty experiences over so many weekends, but you knew that if you kept wearing a half shirt to the truck stop parking lot, one day your prince would come along, and he would cheat on his husband with you. Anyone who thinks romance is dead has never had a slice of pie at the The Rachel Rose Diner & Gas off of I-81.
Happy So Long To Gay Sex With Straight Truckers Day!
