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My paws gripped the steering wheel in a sweaty vice as I stared down the busy highway. I reassured myself once in a while that my paranoia wasn't necessary. The occupants of passing cars probably had never even heard of my hometown, let alone even met its residents or even the local pastor. They likely didn't know where I was taking this old car, or even what I planned to do once I arrived at my seedy destination in downtown Crossroads City.

Swishing my Bengal tail between my trembling legs, I somehow found the strength to keep the gas steady. "Get a grip, Joey..." I muttered to no other soul but myself, eyes narrowing on the directions I had memorized over and over, "You-You're almost there..."

There was absolutely no way anybody back in Glover could know about my attraction for men. It would destroy my parents, my brothers, my sister, my grandparents, anybody connected to my family. My friends and senior classmates would shun me, tease me, bully me into tears, and I could possibly be kicked out onto the streets with nowhere to go.

Unless...

No! I refused to consider the possibility, even now. Growing up in a town dominated by religion, homosexuality was only talked about if one of us was caught in it, and their family members often forced them to go on 'camping trips' to help them heal. Before the Utah government banned conversion therapy on minors, it wasn't surprising to hear a rumor that someone they knew had their cub sent to one of these camps.

Luckily, I hid my 'sinful behavior' very well. I didn't do something as idiotic as hide modelling magazines under my bed, let alone forget to keep my browser history deleted. And luckily, neither Mom or Dad knew enough about computers to have my personal one childproofed.

No, they only did that for the TV.

The upcoming exit appeared. After turning right, I guided the car down a winding freeway until I found myself surrounded by derelict shops and neon-illuminated businesses. The twilit skyline of downtown could be spotted past a billboard advertising some hauling service, but my eyes remained on the less-crowded road ahead. Furs of different species strolled in boredom along the sidewalk, distracted by their phones or watching my car rigidly roll down the cracking, neglected boulevard.

There it was, the Rainbow Ribbon.

Standing between a now-closed sushi restaurant and some storage place, the two-story brick building did not look like one of Crossroad City's most popular, friendly gay bars. Like everything else, it smelled like cigarette butts and burnt tires scorched under the Southwestern sun. At first glance, this did not look like a haven for sinners like me, until you noticed a rainbow flag proudly covering the inside of a wide window like some multicolored curtain.

Seeing this from the parking lot, locking my car and nervously tossing the keys in my hooded jacket's pocket, I tried my best to seem confident. I wiped my forehead, straightened my back, then walked to the back of the line.

Along those in line were a wolf in his twenties, dressed in some khakis and a Hawaiian shirt for the summer, a buff cougar who glared at me as I waited in line, these two toned, sexy Dobermans who looked like brothers, wearing what looked like bondage gear beneath their matching red shirts, as well as a male calico standing in front of me in the line. He looked a couple years older than me, and unintentionally flicked his tail in front of my ticklish face.

"Uh, um...sir?" I sheepishly giggled, waving a paw in front of my nose. "Sir?"

"Oh! Uh, sorry about that!" the calico blushed, grabbing onto his tail and folding his ears in embarrassment. "Heh, I'm just a little excited to be back tonight...know what I'm saying?"

"Um, yeah?" I nervously laughed. "Yeah, I uh...know what you mean."

The line moved forward a couple of furs.

"You're new to this place?" he suddenly asked after a moment, turning to me with a bright smile that contrasted with his darker, spotted fur. Before I could say anything, he surprised me by offering his smaller paw to shake. "I haven't noticed you here before. The name's Booker."

I shook it back. "I'm uh, Joey..."

The pawshake lasted for a second longer than I expected, and before I realized it, I yanked it back and blushed heavily underneath my orange cheekfurs.

"Well then, Joey," he seemed unfazed by my bashful reaction, "can I be bold and ask where you're from?"

The line moved again.

"G-Glover."

"Glover? Hmm, never heard of it," he mused. "Is it a small town?"

"Y-Yeah," I answered, tail curling behind me. "It's a couple hours south of here..."

Piece of trivia: my hometown couldn't be found on a map back in the old days. Whenever a fur traveled to Utah, typically they either went to the Four Corners or to Crossroads City, making the best of its cosmopolitan nightlife beside the Great Salt Lake. Thanks to the Internet and digital mapping though, even a hick town like Glover, Utah could be found.

"May I be bold again to ask you something else then?" Booker asked with curious concern in his auburn eyes. Mesmerized momentarily by them, I nodded to the older feline's question. "You're not out of the closet yet, are you?"

Like waking up from a dream, I was pulled away back to harsh reality.

"I...uh, I..." stammered at first, earning a chuckle from some other fur listening behind us, "...y-yes...I mean, no."

"Hmm, if it makes you feel any better, I'm not either," Booker shook his whiskers at me, smiling softly as I followed his gaze to the parking lot, and the skyline barely visible over the billboards. "Yeah, the 'rents don't know their son's out being a faggot piece of shit, hehe. They think I'm studying back at my dorm. Got my roommate covering for me. You?"

I somehow didn't flinch at his open cursing. As much as our close-knit community was, I only ever heard swearwords from those who didn't go to church every Sunday, and even from my father whenever the family's old truck refused to work.

"C-Concert," I answered back. "They think I'm going to see a Christian rock band."

"Heh, you do seem like the type to enjoy that kinda stuff," Booker chuckled softly.

"Nah, I'm not really." Slowly but surely, I began to lose my bashful mannerisms without realizing it. "To be honest, I'm a bit more into...into regular rock."

"Same here," the calico grinned, then pulled out his phone to text somebody. "Do you know Sweet Children? ADCD? Chillin?" When I shook my muzzle, he widened his eyes in surprise. "Damn, how conservative is your own town?"

The type of conservative to say I was literally one step from Hell, or rather, being condemned to it, when the bouncer cleared his throat and asked us for identification. Booker showed his without batting an eye, followed by me as I looked up to the taller canine, who simply grunted and handed my card back.

Here I stood, standing at the door leading into a world that understood me. According to my church and family's teachings, the choice between entering Heaven and Hell, between salvation and sin, now remained divided by a simple wooden door graffitied with postcards.

I almost turned tail, almost regretted abandoning this life-changing moment for a comfortable life of lies and self-hatred towards my true sexuality. All in the name of my God. However, seeing the door swing open as another gay fur exited the building, and spotting Booker's friendly smile by the busy bar, waving over for me to join him in approachable conversation, I made my own choice. Without waiting any longer, I entered the Rainbow Ribbon, unaware that this would be one of the greatest, most enlightening and romantic evenings of my entire life.

And that is how I met your father.