The Dish

I live in a very small town in central Illinois where the corn and soy bean fields seem to go on forever. Which reminds me I need to tell you the story about my 20 something farm boy neighbor who likes to mow his lawn without a shirt. I'm trying my best to snap a photo before writing that post as it simply requires a visual. So let's have a substitute for the time being.


While I've made some very good friends in the few years living here, the crop of desirable gay men is smaller than anywhere I've lived. When I moved here this was not a consideration. I was attached and thought I would have someone tending my emotional garden for years to come. This is not him, but let's enjoy anyway.


Surprisingly the soil in one's garden can become compacted quite easily. The last farmer was not attentive to this. So I've taken a more proactive course in finding someone to till my soil. Several seasons have passed since the land was cultivated but I know there is a great bounty to be enjoyed with the right farmer. Someone such as this.


I've taken to social media to find some new friends and possibly that farmer. There's a 6'6" 48 year old ex-military hunk of burnin' love with whom I've become enamored. He lives up in the City of Lakes near Norma Desmond which I travel to a few times a year for work. He's a very handsome and seemingly genuine fellow. And employed!!!! I'm giddy.

So that's the poop. This is what I've been doing. I've been acting like a schoolgirl over a fellow who lives 381 miles from me. Someone please slap me.