Needless to say, I had, and still have, some connections and leanings to all things country, especially when it comes to the sport of rodeo. Yes, I own a few pairs of tight ass jeans. Yes, I have a cowboy hat. Yes, I even have a pair of "dress boots". I can line dance, but I prefer the two-step. I can ride western, but I'd like to learn sidesaddle.

I digress...

Now, it shouldn't surprise you that one of my first very serious boyfriends was a cowboy. A steer wrestler to be exact. We'll be calling him MGD, after his brew of choice.

Now that you have that bit of history, I can get on to the point of this entry. Oh yes, I do have a point. This wasn't just a confession to my country-fried past.

My family was very pleased to see that despite my hippie/druggie mother and ex-con father, they might be blessed with a child that would do the family proud. I went to church every Sunday. I went to family gatherings where I would help in the kitchen and look after the younger children. I would sit with my sick aunt and embroider with her. As my little sister began down her path, coming home with body piercings at the tender age of 12, my meek obedience and demure respect of everything my family asked and expected of me became all the more important to them. When I brought home my first boyfriend, a good, god-fearing young man who said "Yes ma�Am." and was *gasp* well on his way to becoming a professional steer wrestler, they were impressed. The only thing they had any issues with was the fact that I chose to dye the blonde hair that god gave me to a deep, rich auburn. That was easy to look over though. After all, straight A's in school, church every Sunday. With any luck, I'd be married and popping out babies right after high school.

I, however, had begun to change. I started rebelling inside, never on the outside, not at first. Just inside. It actually started with the hair. My dad had always told me to never cut it and never dye it. So by taking it up to my shoulder blades and dying it red, I was rebelling. I was breaking the rules. And MGD? He wasn't as sweet and shiny as he seemed. He was, after all, the one who began showing me that sometimes pain can be pleasure. He also introduced me to handcuffs and blow jobs and underage drinking and the idea that what you show people on the outside can be completely different than what you are inside. MGD took me to R-rated movies, "barn-burnings", and the world of multiple orgasms. He also taught me that just because one is "country" doesn't mean that's all one is.

It was at one of his house parties that I first heard what I still consider to be my song.

Too Close by Next.

So here, today, in my cube, when it came blasting through my headphones from Spinner, I just closed my eyes and the memory of that semi-drunken night spent pressed up against MGD and his ever-present hard-on comes flooding back to me.

That was the beginning you see. All of this, everything I am now got its start that night. My near obsession with all things sexual. My ever-changing hair color. My love of body mods. The fact that a well placed "laying on of teeth" can get me positively wet. Even the fact that I'm so open. All of that goes back to that night.

How�s that for nostalgia?