And that, boys and girls, is the story of how stone-cold Annie Mathers found her lady parts.

Still, I'm drawn to him. Annoyingly drawn. Like a bruised and wayward moth flying into a flickering light bulb.

What comes to mind when you think of Clay Coolidge?"(...)"Sex appeal, boozehound, makes love to the mic, rock star, stadium filler.

So that's that, then. You don't want me.""Oh, I want you. Never doubt that. But now isn't the right time. So I'm going to turn around, walk through that door" -his mouth twitches in the corner- "and pretend to sleep while replaying that kiss until I give up and drown myself in a cold shower.

Are you hitting on me, Mathers?""Yes. I don't know. Maybe. Why? Is it working?

But if I close my eyesAnd wish it all awayPretend I'm someone else,Pretend I'm here to stayGave us half a chance,Let my stupid heart decideThere's no doubt in my mind, You'd be mine

So, she sings like an angel, plays like the devil, pitches championships, and slays amusement park games. Is there anything you can't do?

The uncomfortable truth is, while the church loves sinners in their pews, they don't want them in front of a crowd. It's the difference between acceptance and tolerance.

It was pretend.It was supposed to be this act professionals do for laughs. For profit. For whatever it was until it no longer was any of those things for the two people that mattered: me and him.

Wherever these boys are finding their denim, I want a lifetime membership to their mailing catalog.