I suppose it's normal that only Bubba's women have come forward.Being from Arkansas and all, admitting that you've been with a cousin is more acceptable than having been with another man. But now that I've escaped that backwater hell, and having taken some grammar lessons, I know now that I cannot let my story stay unknown any longer.

We met first at the local McDonalds, where I was working as a cashier. It was a slow night, and I was horribly bored, when a distinguished man walked in - white trash that had done well. I knew from the way he ordered his Big Mac that he had a burning passion for life, especially when he supersized it.

"Ah lahk it big," he told me, with a wink.

Had he guessed? I'd been taking testosterone, working out, and had spent hours with a tape recorder and mirror, ridding myself of my girlish voice and hand flop, but yet this man - or more than man - had seen right through me! Would he expose my horrible secret?

I shouldn't have feared. Bubba sat down in full view of the register, slowly licking all the salt off of each fry before finally placing it in his mouth. My knees quaked with lust for this paunched man, this man obviously destined for greatness. The way he forcefully dunked the mushy potato in the ketchup,the way he licked the special sauce off of his lips made me yearn to cover him in my own special sauce. Oh, how I wanted to satisfy him in a way that 30 fat grams never could.

He finished his meal and walked out, my hopes pooling on the floor like congealed grease, and just as slippery. Had I really wanted this stranger to seduce me? It was the eighties, and it was no longer safe to just be with anyone who walked in off of the street.

But as I got off of work, I saw a state trooper standing by my car. I knew I was in trouble when he held up my baggie of prime Jamaican weed, and calmly got in the back of his patrol car.

Suddenly he was on me, Bubba's lips searching for my own as the trooper lit up a fattie. The sweet taste of processed ketchup mingled with his natural flavor, my nostrils filling with the THC-laden smoke. Bubba took a drag from the J after finally releasing me to lay breathless on the back seat, breathless from the force of his desire. When he handed me the joint, I inhaled- then even more as I felt his hand venturing into my Levis.

By the time we were finished, we could have topped a dozen Big Macs, with some left over.

Spent, I was dropped off back at my car in the dark parking lot.

The next day, I discovered who Bubba had been by chance, as I finally got cable in my apartment and watched CNN. The governor! My heart trilled - until I saw his wife. Married.

Ever since then, I've been chasing Bubba.[apologies to McDonald's and Kevin Smith.]