The morning of the golf tournament I woke up early. Too early, in fact, and my nerves felt disproportionately alert for such an ungodly hour. My stomach bubbled with nervous energy. Unanswered questions about the day to come bombarded my head, making it impossible to go back to sleep.

Great. I pondered why I felt so antsy. Once my brain caught up with my anxiety, I remembered Bryan.

Ah Ha! I rolled from bed eager to check Facebook. In an effort to soften the blow, should there be no waiting response, I reminded myself that it was awfully early. He's likely still in bed. Such mental precautions proved needless. Waiting in my inbox was a new message from Bryan.

Annie, Guess what?
You are beautiful and you have a gorgeous body and I wish I had not been so lame the last time we hung out because nothing would be finer for me than to touch you all over with my hands, my lips. Oh well, non-friend.
Unless of course, you wish to join me this Thursday night, BRINE goes on 9:00
5772 Cedar Creek Drive...
Wa waaaa waaaa, sniffle
Cryin' Bryan

You bet your sweet ass I will. I smiled victoriously, entering my tiny kitchen for coffee. Grinding fragrant beans, my brain toyed with the idea of being with Bryan. I felt certain he would kick the summer of lovers off with a bang (quite literally).

His bizarre message did nothing to relieve my shacky nerves. I braced myself for an emotionally toiling day ahead, man hunting with Lulu and Harriett.

What was I supposed to wear? Yesterday my friends had meticulously planned our wardrobe choices for the event, but I'd been too consumed with forming a uniquely perfect message for Bryan to pay attention. I remembered the words "country club appropriate" mentioned and knew without looking that nothing I owned qualified.

Fortunately, Lulu answered her phone. "Of course! Come on over. You can borrow whatever you need," she said, surprisingly chipper considering her aversion to all hours before noon.

"Awesome, thanks Lulu, you're the best!" I told her, thinking that Troop Beverly Hills was correct. It is nicer to have friends with money.

And she wasn't kidding. Thanks to Lulu's gracious nature and enormous wardrobe, by the time we arrived I looked like I belonged to the Dallas Country Club. As if I'd grown up swimming in the Olympic-sized pool and hunting Easter eggs on the expansive green lawn.

"I wonder if Harriett's made it yet," I said, reaching for my cell to give her a call.

"Hey," she answered.  "I'm in the lounge. It's great in here! Where are y'all?"

"We just made it. We'll come meet ya," I said, hanging up the phone and taking in the scene. It was an incredible place, and I inhaled deeply enjoying the smell of freshly cut grass, crisp morning air, and the smoky scent of a good cigar. Handsome men dotted the lush lawn as far as my eyes could see. And for the first time, I thought that the summer of lovers might not be such a bad idea after all.

"Hey, there's daddy!" Lulu said, pointing to a small group of men gathered conveniently around a beer trough.  "Daddy!" She was off, running precariously in her Prada wedges.

I chased behind, tugging at the hem of my (Lulu's) super short Lacoste dress and analyzing the men.
Who in the hell is that? Jaime Knox? I yanked off Lulu's white, oversized, Channel sunglasses, rubbing my eyes and staring in disbelief. "Lulu," I called to her desperately. "Lulu, come here!"

"What Annie? Hurry up, I see daddy," she said, not bothering to turn around.

"Screw daddy," I screamed-out of control. "I see Jaime Knox!"

She turned on her heels and rushed to my side. "Where?" she asked, her voice appropriately serious now.

"Talking to your dad," I said, accusingly.

"What?" Lulu questioned incredulously, turning to take another look at the circle of golfers. That's not Jaime Knox. That's Jack Swanson, my daddy's foxy protégé. Like Jaime though, he too is gay, so of course you're into him, Annie."

Taking a second, closer look, I realized she was right. The man I thought was Jaime was actually quite a bit taller and with a broader frame. Bitter disappointment singed my singing heart. If I hadn't wanted to talk to Bill, I would've left to join Harriett at the bar. But I decided that Lulu's dad's company was worth suffering through his daughter's faults.

"Daddy," Lulu said, interrupting his story and flinging herself into his arms.

"Darling, Lulu!" his rumbling southern voice boomed back. He enclosed her in his hug, dramatically wrapping her in a loving embrace.  "And Annie, too! Well this is a real treat, having you two here. Where's the third member of the loose-cannon club?" He asked, referring to Harriett.

"Bar, duh," Lulu said dryly, reaching into his back pocket and swiping his wallet.

He chuckled, deeply amused as always, by his daughter. Normally when Bill Abernathy spoke, people listened. But as I stood making my best I'm paying attention face, I secretly watched Jack.

He definitely reminded me of Jaime. I took in his lean tan golfer's legs and cocky affect. I couldn't decide whether it was the self-assured way he moved, the mischievous glint in his sparkling blue eyes, or his cute as a button nose.  But something about him caused an Annie reaction, deep inside my gut.

"Let's go find Harriett," I said abruptly to Lulu, thinking that the last thing I needed was to fall for a (another?) gay man.

"Alright," she replied, picking up on my lusty thoughts directed toward the uninterested homosexual.  "I'll catch up with you later, daddy," she sang sweetly, air kissing his cheeks.  "Never fails," she whispered in my ear as we walked toward the club house.  "You always find the homo in the haystack."

We located Harriett sitting demurely at the bar, sipping a martini. She was surrounded by a bevy of brightly dressed men.  "Lulu, Annie," she called out, waving us over with her free hand.

"Wow, way to go Harriett," Lulu said, eyeing the group of attractive males hovering around the bar.

"Have you met any of them?" I asked her discreetly, referring to her numerous admirers.

"Kind of," she said, obviously pleased.  "Two of them bought me martinis."

"Harriett, it's not even noon. Most people are sipping bloody mary's or mimosas, not double fisting vodka." Lulu shook her head, grinning in admiration of Harriett's spirit.

"There are olives!" Harriett defended her drink, pointedly tossing a large green orb into her mouth.

We were interrupted by a good-looking man dressed in money.  "May I buy you stunning ladies a round of drinks? Or, an island perhaps? Hahahaaaaahh," he laughed obnoxiously, throwing his expensively dressed arm around Lulu.

He came with friends, and they gathered around us like wolves in plaid clothing, aggressively sizing us up. They worked as a team, and before Lulu, Harriett, and I had a chance to react, we were each cornered. I found myself fending off a particularly trollish looking man.

"Well, hello there, little lady," it drawled staring at my chest.  "That's a dazzling outfit you're wearing. It doesn't do your tits justice though. I should take you shopping."

Little man syndrome. I rolled my eyes, covering my chest with my arms. Generally I was a sucker for cocky (no pun intended) attitudes, but I'd learned that with the short ones, it's generally all hype.

"I don't think so," I said flatly, hoping he could take a hint, but suspecting he could not.

"Let me take you for a ride?" he asked, confirming my hunch.

"I have a boyfriend."

"I have a Lamborghini."

"I don't think so," I said, firmer this time, finally breaking free and joining my friends.

"I got a date!" Harriett squealed at my arrival, pink-cheeked, holding her drink in the air.

"Atta girl Harriett," I said, rewarding her with a clink from my freshly delivered mimosa. "Let the summer of lovers commence!"

"Do you know who that was?" Lulu asked me, nodding toward the troll.

"The ugly sprite?" I asked, confused by the look of admiration she cast in his direction.

"That's Dr. Reidenhower, the top plastic surgeon in Dallas. His list of clientele is a regular who's who of society. I heard he even did Dolly."

"Dolly Parton?" I shrieked, taking another look and re-evaluating the good doctor.  "I love Dolly!" As we made our way back outside (apparently to watch golf) I pondered what marriage would be like with a plastic surgeon compared to a rock star, and decided it was too close to call. Casting one last look over my shoulder at the Doc, I shuddered at what I saw. Not a chance. And remembering Bryan's upcoming concert, I hurried to catch up with my friends.

Not that this came as a surprise, but watching golf was boring. Lulu lay on her stomach, painting her nails a pale yellow hue and sunning her mostly exposed body. Harriett rambled on about her upcoming date with martini man. The crowd milling around was a mixture of spoiled children and pampered wives. We lasted (surprisingly) through the eighth hole before we made our exit.

As we gathered our belongings and headed toward the valet, I realized it was now or never. "Hey, will y'all come with me tonight to watch Brine play? Please?" I begged them, praying for a yes.

I tended to get anxious on first dates, a display of social Tourette's. I once went to dinner with a handsome politician and forgot how to hold my arms. Throughout the entire meal he made polite conversation, as I did my best to appear normal while readjusting myself at an alarming rate. I tried hands on my hips and crossing my arms. I nibbled my pinky nail with elbows on the table. I sat on my wrists and then shredded my napkin. I put my arms to my sides. Nothing felt right. By the time the check mercifully arrived he was offering up suggestions on where to find a good therapist. Needless to say, he never called again.

"I can't go tonight," Harriett told me cheerfully. "My mom's in town and she wants to take me to dinner."
Harriett's mom, Marge McNeal, is a saint—all bosom, love, and knowledge.

"Why is she in town?" I asked, regretfully.

"I have no clue. But she hopes I'll bring y'all along with me," she said, ensuring my solo date with Bryan.

Knowing that any other response would be perceived as selfish, I encouraged Lulu to go to dinner. "Go with Harriett. I know you love Marge," I said, feeling noble in my sacrificing nature.

We all three saw the car at the same moment. It careened out of control at a recklessly high speed, heading straight toward us. "Move it!" I cried, shoving Lulu and Harriett out of the endangered path.

It screeched to a halt precariously close to our dropped jaws. Holly shit! I thought. Not regarding our near death encounter, but rather the absurd amount of sex appeal oozing from the fire-red Lamborghini Murcielago purring proudly in my face.

"Sure you don't want that ride princess?" the troll asked, his voice drowned out by the rumbling of his ride.

Lulu elbowed my side, "you're a fool if you say no," she said.

"I'll let you drive her," he promised, pressing on the gas so the engine roared louder, tempting me with its heady vibration.

The troll was appearing taller and taller before my eyes, more difficult to resist. I'd always wanted to ride in a car where the doors open from bottom to top. I considered his offer. "How do these doors open?"

He smiled, knowing he had me, and pressed a button to pop open the gleaming red door high into the air.

And forgetting about number one on my 'what I want in a husband list' I gave him my phone number.

Wanna make my day? If you're enjoying Fag Hag...VOTE! Please and thank you and all that jazz :)

Also, I am taking part in the Brigade Watty Awards, and I'll be in love with you forever for voting for Fag Hag in the contest. It is chapter 83 and here is the link:

http://my.w.tt/UiNb/io0KGX0lkv

Thank you so very much!!