QColumn: A Gay In The Life: The Marlboro Man

The Marlboro Man
By Steve Prince
Editor’s Note: After this, there’s only 3 MORE INSTALLMENTS OF AGITL! Prepare to kiss Steve goodbye!
“You didn’t bring boots?” Chad looked at me seriously.
“I uh…” I stammered. I was caught off guard. “I have boots, but I just didn’t think I needed them.”
My cousin looked at me disapprovingly. “Mmm-mmm,” he mocked with a smile. “You move to Los Angeles and you can’t even remember that when you go out in Texas, you wear boots.” He shook his head.
“Well, girl,” I said, “Where’re yours?”
Chad smirked and waved his hand in the air, as if waving away an annoying fly. “Cuz, you know I only wear Prada. Who the fuck wears boots?”
I knew he was kidding.
I couldn’t remember a time when Chad hadn’t kidded around. Even as a kid, I remember going to visit my Aunt Starlene (yes, Starlene) and her family in Dallas. Chad was the oldest of the kids, which made him only a year older than myself. From the moment we met, he and I seemed to be kindred spirits—probably because he was a big ol’ Mary like me. Seriously, I think being gay did have something to do with our connection; we both had a shared understanding of what it was like to be in our family and be different.
I sat on the bed watching Chad primp in the mirror.
“Is Brad coming?” I asked.
“He had to go to some work dinner,” Chad said with a smack of his lips. “He’s meeting us there.”
Brad was Chad’s boyfriend. Yes, Brad and Chad. I know it might sound a bit cutesy, but they actually were one of the most stable couples I have ever known. Brad and Chad had both met when they were seniors at the University of Texas in Austin. They’ve been together ever since. They both gave me some hope… maybe some relationships work out.
An hour later we both were out the door of Chad’s apartment. The strip of bars—known as the Drag of Austin—was only a fifteen-minute walk from Chad’s apartment. The early night air was still warm. Heat wafted up from the street as Chad and I chatted and talked and eye-raped the scenery.
Jeeezus. Texas boys were hotter than two rats fucking in a wool sock. The University of Texas should be called the University of Corbin Fisher. Seriously, the guys are ridiculous.
“Look at him,” I said as a tall, tanned blonde man sat at a nearby bar drinking a beer. He smiled at some girl across from him. Of course he’s straight, I assumed.
“Well,” Chad said, “it is Texas. Gotta play the butch part, but ya never know. Oh, check him out.” Chad pointed with a nod.
An Adonis of a man lumbered towards us and passed while chatting with friends. He looked like John Stamos from the 80s. Sooooo hunky. Chad and I looked at one another and smiled.
“Were almost there, girl,” he said.
I looked around. Not one gay flag was in sight; this was such a different place than West Hollywood.
“Where are all the gay bars?” I asked.
“Everywhere,” Chad said.

I looked at him dumbfounded. What did he mean everywhere? Any place I have ever lived or visited has had an area of the city known as a gay ghetto. Dallas has Cedar Springs, D.C. has Dupont, New York City had Chelsea, and hell even San Francisco has the Castro.
“Well,” Chad said, “the gay bars are kind of peppered through out all the other bars. So we just walk here and there.” He smiled, “Believe me there’s enough scenery.”
I wish I could say I felt totally comfortable, but I didn’t. As I looked around I had no idea about my safety. Not that I thought someone would walk up and beat the shit out of me but… well, actually I did fear that.
Growing up in the South is so different from growing up in other parts of the United States. Austin is considered the most liberal city in Texas, but it is still Texas. On the whole, it seemed like most people were completely accepting but all it took was one redneck who got way too drunk to ruin a night. I’d seen it happen before with Peter.
As I looked around there didn’t seem to be a gay guy in sight. Instead a small group of frat boys walked by laughing and planning their night. They were all so gorgeous I could have spit in my hand and beat off right there in front of Jesus and everybody.
“I know,” Chad said with a smile, “it’s like we are in a porn video or something.”
“Pardon me,” a deep voice growled. I turned to face a cowboy. Yes a real life-fucking cowboy, or at least he looked the part. He was about four inches taller than me and he had a black cowboy hat pulled down low so that you could just see his deep amber eyes. A shadow of stubble on the cleft of his chin seemed to hint at gruffness. His shoulders seemed as wide as Chad and I put together. Still there was no hint of a smile on his face.
“Pardon us,” Chad said in a butch lower voice. I had been so horny looking at hot pieces of ass that I didn’t realize it was getting crowded.
The cowboy grasped the brim of his hat and nodded. JUST LIKE A REAL COWBOY! Is Austin some actually a theme park or something for real-life cowboys?
“Lord help me,” I said fanning my face as the cowboy passed. “He looked like the Marlboro Man.”
Chad smiled and turned his head, “Get used to it. Here we are.”
Now, who knew there was an Oilcan Harry’s in Austin? I just thought there was one in Los Angeles. This was a pleasant surprise. Why?
Because I love cowboys. I do. Even before Brokeback Mountain, I was way into the jeans, the boots, the hats. Ah, I love it. Do me. Just do me cowboys; I am your filly to tame.
The Oilcan in Austin was much like the one in LA. As I looked around all types of guys were there. Still there was something about being in Texas that oddly made it more relaxed once we were inside.
Two hours later I realized what that “it” was. Southern hospitality.
Southern hospitality is not an old myth about Southerners—it still is an important part of the culture today. It had been so long since I had been in the South that I had forgotten that you could talk to a guy and just talk to a guy. There was no other agenda except conversation. I know it sounds crazy, but it can happen people.
There aren’t a lot of bars in LA that are like this. Not that people are rude in California but it seems people have more of an agenda. Los Angeles is a city where people flock to “make it” or be scene or be praised. That desire to be famous wasn’t in this bar.
Over the course of the night, I had conversations with about six different guys. Some of them were cute and some of them were not, but it didn’t matter. We were just talking. They all wanted to know about LA and any differences I had noticed. I was interested in their lives, what they liked about Texas, and what they did for fun.
It was a great night and as soon as Brad, Chad’s boyfriend, joined us the party kept going. “I’ll get you a beer,” I said to Brad after we had hugged.
I walked up to the bar and waited for my turn. I looked around scanning the bar and there was the group of frat boys that I had seen on the street. But they were acting so differently. There were still in a group and laughing but this time their mannerisms and expressions were more animated, more heightened, and more… gay.
I don’t mean to sound stereotypical, but I couldn’t help but notice that the guys were so different on the street; it was if they had been butching it up. I suddenly felt a gratitude for Los Angeles. I could be myself in about 80% of places in LA. Here, I don’t think I would feel comfortable being completely myself a lot of the time. Or maybe I could eventually. Still it was nice to be myself and not have to become comfortable. LA was so liberal that everything was comfortable.
“Can I get a Shiner?” I told the bartender. I still had my own beer to drink. I wanted to take it easy.
“Make that two,” a voice said to the right of me.
I turned. It was the Marlboro Man. He tossed down a twenty on the bar. “I got it.” He said with a smirk.
“Thanks,” I said as the bartender handed us our beers.
“Well, every visitor to Texas should have a local buy ’em a beer,” his southern drawl was thick. Hmmm, thick like his dick. Yeah, my mind was totally going there already.
“How do you know I’m not from here?” I asked over the roar of the country music.
“Austin’s a small city,” he took a sip of beer and licked his lips. “And the gay scene of Austin is nothing but tiny.”
He looked at me and smiled. “I’m Ty by the way.”
OH GOD TY IS SUCH A HOT COWBOY NAME!!! Okay, lets be honest… his name could be Shitbag and I think it would be hot.
“I’m Steve,” I said, “and I’m actually from Oklahoma, but I live in LA now.”
“Ahh, Oklahoma,” Ty said with a smile, “Well I won’t hold that against ya.” He was flirting with me.
We toasted our beers. In fact, we toasted beers several times, until finally Ty leaned over and said. “It’s getting late. I should go.”
“Oh okay,” I said trying not to show my disappointment. Not only was this guy cute, but also Ty and I had such great conversation. He really was a real life cowboy. His family came from a ranch in Midland (yes the land of George W. Bush), and Ty had attended UT. He had just finished his dual masters in animal biology and environmental science. He loved working on the land. Damn, interesting people are hot and I wanted to keep talking. Oh well another time, I guess.
Suddenly Ty’s demeanor changed. Instead of this confident bravado Ty’s eyes were starting to dart and he was becoming… dare I say… shy?
“Um, well,” Ty said, “If you’d like you could walk me home. I only live about eight blocks. If you want,” he paused, “but you don’t have to.” Then he looked at me and his confidence seemed to have returned, “But I’d like ya to.”
How could anyone turn down that invitation? Especially someone as slutty as me! So yes I walked Ty home. In fact, I walked him home, I walked him up his front steps, and I walked him into his bedroom.
Having sex with him was so different from a lot of guys. Ty was sweet and caring yet sexy and tough. He was definitely the most masculine guy I’d ever been with. And boy could this cowboy kiss. We did nothing but make out for an hour. I could tell that my face was going to be red the next day from his stubble.
However, the most surprising thing about Ty occurred at about two in the morning. We had been making out for a while and I had just giving him some great head if I do say so myself. I was just getting prepared to lean up, kiss him, and get ready to ride that cowboy when he whispered in my ear, “Fuck me.”
“What?” I actually popped back and looked at him.
“Oh,” he said, “Do you not top?”
“No,” I answered, “I just assumed you didn’t bottom.”
Ty smiled. “Steve,” he said caressing my face, “you’ve never been with a cowboy before have you?”
I shook my head no. “Why?”
“Because a cowboy is real man,” he leaned up and kissed me, “now make love to me like one.”
Oh, and I did.
I must say, that was probably the most romantic and hot thing a guy has ever said to me… in my life. Ty and I had an incredible night. So much so that we had breakfast the next morning before I left. We both knew it was just a night and left it at that. But why can’t cowboys live in Los Angeles? Ay, me.
Luckily, Ty lived only a few blocks from Chad. As I walked home I realized I haven’t felt that type of connection with anyone since Peter. For the first time, I began to see Domingo for what he really was… the rebound guy.
Had I used Domingo? I didn’t mean to. Still, part of me felt I had. Something often happens when people start and end romantic relationships—it often makes you only think about you and that other person, leaving everyone else feeling used or neglected. Maybe it was time for me to take a break from all the sex of late. Perhaps I’m searching for a connection, like the one I had with Peter, rather than just a hook up. This night with Ty reminded me it was nicer to connect than to just hook up.
My phone interrupted my thoughts. It was Chad.
“Hello,” I answered.
“Um, Steve,” Chad said. I could tell something was wrong.
“I’m almost to your place.” I said, “What’s up?”
“We have to go to Oklahoma tonight,” he said. His voice sounded shaky. “Last night, um, Uncle Jerry was killed in car accident.”
——————————
A California boy with a Southern heart, Steve Prince finds himself in so many sexual positions it can make your head spin. Thankfully for us he’s willing to share it all…no matter how sordid it gets. Quick to admit when he fucks up, Steve still laughs it all off, and hopes you will too. Also, it should also be noted he is gayer than glitter.
——————————
Previously, on A Gay In The Life:
The Birds and The Birds
Lyin’, & Twinks, & Bears—Oh My!
Going Public
Christmas in July
Luck Be A Lady Tonight
I Left My Heart In Oklahoma
As Luck Would Have It
Shock & Awe
Blame It On Britney
The Unending Journey
Makin’ Copies
Bullets and Bracelets… and Lube
To Tell The Truth…
Stars Aren’t Blind
The Dark Knight
Come As You Are
A Date?
A Happy Ending
Better Than Nothing
A Man With A Slow Hand
Taking The Long Way
Everybody Knows
Wake Me Up, Before Ya Go-Go
Definition
The Best
The Upper Hand
Hit Me With Your Best Shot
2000-Date
Dick The Halls
The Queer Dear
A Night At The Museum
A Conversation
I’m Just A Girl Who Can’t Say No
Change The Way You Feel
Kissing A Fool
Leo The Lamb
The Elephant In The Room
Zuckerman’s Famous Pig
A Birthday Surprise
The Sleepover-er
SP Phone Home
Out of the Frying Pan and into the Closet
What If…
Just Beat It
Intimate Portrait
Intimate Portrait (Part Deux)
Intimate Portrait (Part Trois)
State of Mind
The Age of Disbelief
A Man For All Seasons
Summer Lovin’
A-Men
The Urge
Gettin’ It Done
Here You Cum Again
Eye Of The Beholder
The Present
A Minute’s Pause
Brotherly Love
Ladies Who Lunch
Here Cums The Rain Again
Dinner For Two
Blow by Blow
Commando
Cum As You Are?
Aftershock!
Caught in the Act
The Great Compromise
The Tipping Point
Cross Country
In Stereo
Get Smart
Blind Faith
The Dirty Mexican
A Few Good Men
Peter’s End
Getting Stuffed
The Good Boy
Cracking Up
The Agreement
Fuck Road
A New Resolve
Pre-cumming
Send My Regrets
On A Jet Plane
For The Love of God
Livin’ On A Prayer
It’s My Party
Move On
The Stripper
High-Ho The Glamorous Life
The Flesh Is Willing, But…
The Oldest Profession
Letters

The Return of the Stripper
The Strip Tease
Tennis Doubles
The Brother’s Dick