I hung with some real ones the other night. Like some real life Cowboys. I like to consider myself a Cowgirl since I have wrangled, I can lasso, and I have branded cattle but as much as I'd like to say we were just a bunch of Cowpeople sharing some lagers after a long day on the range I cannot. I, unfortunately, am not quite that hard core. These guys spend most of their time out on pack trips, wrangling horses and cattle, and making sure those soon-to-be-hamburgers are properly feed and cared for. Hard (core) work.

Going to camp out west I got to hang out in barns and do the whole Cowgirl thang and I mostly loved it because I thought the Cowboys were HOT! I always fantasized about dating one of these dudes and starting a Cowfamily. I thought about these past fantasies as I chatted with one of the nice Cowfellows at the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar. Things were going swimmingly until mid-convo a heaping pile of tobaccey flew straight into this Cowhands bottom lip. Now, I'm no stranger to the "Lipper" action. I've been known to throw a dip in m'self if the wind is blowin just right (hell, I almost got kicked out of camp for just that) but thinking about that being A THING that could just happen mid-chat on a Sunday night...and probably, realistically, mid-everything on an every night just kinda turned that "Mmmm Cowboy" switch off. (For those few seconds, anyway.)

I'm not saying that's it! I could ALWAYS go for a 5am sunrise doggie-roundup with a Wrangler wearin, black coffee drinkin, Stetson sportin Cowman but it may have to be one that leaves the tin of Kodiak at home.