WHEN I UNDERSTOOD IT WAS ALL OVER

I should have known that it wasn't going to work out.

The Southwest desert was swooshing by the car window and the iPod was connected to the car stereo, shuffling songs. Johnny Cash. Bruce Springsteen. Pet Shop Boys...

"Man! Can you turn off this gay disco crap!" he yelled.

I stared at him in disbelief. After all, he had proudly told me his great grandma was British. He had announced he was a liberal kind of guy. What was going to come next?

Did John Lennon have too long hair for him?

Were Mick Jagger's lips too sensual?

David Bowie wore too much make up?

Oscar Wilde too witty in his repartee?

Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson living together, clearly suspicious?

Kicking the football around, when you can grab it under your arm and run fast as hell?

Man! This cultural clash crap was a turn off.