Now, I’m no expert, but let’s just say you’re a cowboy.  You’re a handsome, dashing cowboy of about 28.  You wear a cowboy hat and jeans and cowboy boots.  You also sport a giagantic belt buckle the size of my face.  Let’s talk about places I might see you.  Pretend this is a question on Family Feud.  Survey says:

1. Texas

2. The rodeo

3. Some American-themed restaurant of some kind.

4. A convention of People Who Like Dressing Like the Village People

5. A Village People concert.

Let’s talk about the places I should not see you:

1. Standing non-chalantly in my department in the middle of nowhere, Scotland.

See, again, I’m no expert, but when I come down the stairs in the Victorian-era building that houses the St Andrews English department, about to exit to a seascape punctuated by a castle and cathedral ruined in the sixteenth century, I do not expect a man to lock eyes with me, tip his hat, and ernestly say ‘Howdy’.  It throws me off.  Then I have to run away from you before I lose my shit and laugh in your face.

It makes me wonder, all this talk about gay cowboys, did the collective force of the female sexual frustration in this town conjure one out of thin air?  One who wants to do a higher degree in English literature?