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The old cowboy.
An old cowboy wandered into a Starbucks one afternoon, ordered himself a black coffee, and settled into a corner seat. He leaned back, tipped his hat up, and took a slow, contented sip.
Before long, a young woman sat beside him and asked, “Excuse me, sir—are you a real cowboy?”
The old man thought for a moment and replied, “Well, I reckon so. I’ve spent my whole life ridin’ horses, herdin’ cattle, mendin’ fences, brandin’ calves, sleepin’ out under the stars, and workin’ the land. So yeah, I suppose you could call me a cowboy.”
The young woman smiled and said, “I’m a lesbian. Pretty much all I ever think about is women—when I wake up, when I shower, when I eat, when I work... it’s always women on my mind.”
The cowboy gave a respectful nod, and they both went back to their drinks.
A little while later, another man came in, took the seat on the cowboy’s other side, and asked, “So, are you a real cowboy?”
The old man paused, stared into his coffee, and said, “Well... I always thought I was. But after today... I think I might actually be a lesbian.”
