A Child Of Atom

Long ago, when I was but a wee lad, and unaware that I was gay, or that sex even existed really, I had a crush on three women. Female celebrities, all of whom are icons in their own way. Dolly Parton, who is the sole female love of many a gay man, Lynda Carter, the very beautiful Wonder Woman, also a fav among the gay set, and Loretta Swit the inimitable Hot Lips Houlihan of M*A*S*H fame. (Since growing up and firming up my sexuality I now know that Helen Slater is the only woman for me, but she doesn't figure into this story.)

Tonight I met one of them. I won't say which, but I will say that it wasn't Dolly, because I'd still be too freaked out to mention it if it had been, and frankly I just can't see her ever showing up here, so you have a 50/50 shot of guessing who it was. She arrived to the theatre early, being a friend of the producer, and I was introduced to her as she sat before the show. She was very gracious, and complimented the set, and spoke with some enthusiasm about the shows that are coming later in the season and how much she is looking forward to what I might do with them. After we exchanged pleasantries she excused herself to go to the bar, but as she passed... well... I'm not sure what it was intended to be... she grasped my upper arm in the way that you when you are encouraging someone or congratulating them on a job well done, but then she... well... I think she patted my ass. Mind you, I'm not sure, and it may have been entirely accidental, but there was some sort of contact in the gluteal region.

I can now die just a touch happier.