I’m coming out and this is probably the best place to do it.
The catharsis of confession is so eagerly sought that I must admit it.
I can’t wait any longer.
I like the robust guys who wear boots, hats and have three-day stubble that looks like it belongs.
And what’s even more troubling… I swing both ways because I also like the girls in boots, hats, skirts and – thankfully – no stubble at all.
I like the rich and unhurried voices.
I like the stories.
I like the hummable tunes that don’t exist solely to show-off the vocal abilities of the singer.
I like it that my new love acknowledges that most of us have moved past the first-heartbreak stage and that there is a bit more to life than our prom-night rejection.
So, I’m coming out of the tack shop to admit the love that dares not speak its name.
I will say it aloud… I like country music.
I’m proud of who I am and I don’t care who knows any more.