Girl Gone Wild: Cowboys with poise

By Loki Ferris

My Hot Stud Scope is in dire need of replacement lenses. I didn't think I'd need it since I was going to my first rodeo. I dragged my ass into the arena and plunked down next to my friend Kate.

Next to us sat an average couple. Man with hat, woman with woolly blond hair smashed beneath her hat. They giggled and carried on, both with a look of contentment throughout the bull-riding segment. I noticed Kate kept checking out the guy--in front of his wife--who did a double-take at Kate's ogling and, I imagined, wanted to scream: "D'ya mind!?"

It's a funny thing to watch cowboys get bucked off their bulls like ragdolls. Survival instincts clashing with nonchalance intrigues me. Avoiding a horn or two in the ass or a pricking in the nuts is a given. To get away from the bull's-eye with composure is the ultimate class act.

The man smiled at Kate, finally making eye contact.

"Kate?"

Kate beamed. "Tim, right?

Granted, whenever we go out, we're stopped by someone she knows, but this is ridiculous. Just the other week we ran into Sen. Goldwater, and I had to wait for her to finish chatting him up. I didn't even know we had a Sen. Goldwater. To know Kate is to love her. She's the cute-as-a-button girl who'd make Alka Seltzer seem like stale coffee if she were any more effervescent. It turned out Tim was a boy she had a severe crush on in school.

Standard stuff. My attention shifted back to the good ol' boys riding around in chaps and swirling lassoes...I couldn't help but get a little excited in my seat. Who knew a rodeo could offer such eye candy?

Kate's touchy-feeliness manifests through her subtle harnessing of Tim's shoulder and gentle intrusion of her own body against his. Again, she's the bubbly type, and I can't tell if she's flirting or just being herself.

I didn't blink during the calf-roping event. Poor little calves looked so helpless, but I kept watching! I promised to never eat veal again in exchange for enjoying such an event. I gave Kate a "wrap it up" bump to her arm (in case she was flirting) but she kept mistaking it as a call to check out the cowboys.

I wondered what Tim's wife, Donna, thought about my garrulous girlfriend. I searched her face for cues of discomfort, but there weren't any. Kate had fawned over her man, but Donna remained intact, without a hint of being intimidated.

This was a chick I could hang with, I thought. Donna laughed alongside Tim, and remained calm and collected in the midst of danger. She had survived the Kate test.

Finally it comes to a halt. They were no longer prisoners of Kate's verbosity. Expecting to see Donna at least a little relieved, I peered out of the corner of my eye. No such luck. Donna was one of those "secure" types whom I have learned to appreciate.

Kate whispered to me, "Tim could have done way better. He's so damn cute, and she's just so-so."

I asked for an explanation. For, although Tim was mildly attractive, his wife was kind of just so-so. But she was pleasant and unbothered by Kate's gooey charm, which kicked her up a few notches. Now she was pretty cute and worthy of Tim, at least to me.

Kate clarified: He was quite the catch in school, and she had liked him a lot. Which translated into: "Tim could have had me; I'm way better, and really cute." Defending Donna, I countered, "I'm sure she was a hottie back in the day, just like you were--and that's why he married her. Not to mention she wasn't fazed by your presence at all, and she was cool, which makes him the lucky one."

Kate agreed. She had to. The chick was cool, woolly hair and all.

My head hurt from squinting. I left the event with new respect for cowboys who traipse to safety and realized that I appreciate women who handle themselves well when a potential threat arises. But the saccharine ones, the ones who smirk ever so slightly while scanning me over, I can read right through these insecure women. They are ruled by their instincts, running behind the clowns and leaping over the fence only to realize they were never in the bull's way.

E-mail your questions to Loki at loki@lasvegasmercury.com.