So, as one who kicked over the last couple of skeletal sticks making up my closet in middle age―everybody says they already knew, how 'bout that?―I end up with a First Gay Date that probably should have traumatized a slacking underachiever such as myself. It's not that he was a bad guy, or anything; he was probably a really nice guy, but it was clear I wasn't sufficient for him. After all, he's a successful business owner, and I'm just this unemployed queer who managed to father a kid along the way. Don't get me wrong; I'll stand for fatherhood and my daughter any day, but, you know, there are days when you know you just don't meet someone else's standard.

And he's also something that I've never gotten along well with, one who thinks he's right just because, well, he isn't someone like me. That is to say, I went on a coffee date with a nice gay man who is also a closet Tea Partier. It was a litany of what was wrong with Obama, and, for instance, and an example of the conservative disconnection from history. For instance, did you know that the only reason anyone believes the stock market is important is because of the dastardly Democrats, because everyone else already knows the stock market is an unreliable indicator?

It was the talking point of the week, or something, at a time when liberals were shaking their heads at the stock market and reminding themselves Obama was the worst socialist ever.

Yeah, that kind of stuff. In the end, despite my own inadequacies in life, I figured the coffee date was not a complete failure, owing to the fact that among everything else I actually didn't hear the one about the Jewish-Hollywood banking conspiracy involving the UN and black helicopters. But, you know, Birtherism, the liberal scourge of the individual mandate, pretty much everything we've been hearing since November, 2008.

And it occurs to me now that for all the fun, scary, and other stuff that happens in my life seemingly in defiance of astronomical odds―why can't I win the lottery without buying a ticket, then?―it simply seems impossible that my First Gay Date happened to coincide with the only hardline right-wing gay man in Seattle.

No, really. There must necessarily be more. He can't be the only one, else I would be a better gambler.

Who are those two percent? Couldn't tell you, but I'm pretty sure my First Gay Date out of the closet was with one of their number.

To which end, we must remember that there are many who still believe one must vote Republican if one intends to support business, jobs, and economy. And from there, they'll rationalize pretty much anything.