My truck seemed out of place with its Kentucky plates and rusted paint. I drove the truck about six blocks to 'Decadence,' a spot that I'd researched online. My cowboy hat would be an attention getter. I decided to wear a white t-shirt and super tight Levi's. I checked into the hotel I had booked and then showered and changed. I had never seen such a cultured place and so many good looking men! The city was huge, gorgeous and a little scary. I got in to the city pretty late, a little after mid-night, but I was anxious to get out. Atlanta was an eye opener and I loved every minute of it. I wanted to see the world, experience new things and be able to love who ever I pleased.
I had just graduated high school and knew that being a farmer, like my Daddy, wasn't for me. But my fantasies paled in comparison to the reality of my first gay sexual experience. I had seven hours to imagine what was to come. I drove my beat up pick up truck toward Atlanta. I decided on my eighteenth birthday to leave my country home and visit the city. For as long as I remember, I was teased, laughed at and at the worst, beaten up and embarrassed publicly because of who I am.
Getting laid in rural Kentucky has proven difficult.
