He stood at the voting booth with a chagrined look on his ruggedly handsome, weathered, face. He snuck a look at the woman standing at the next booth–a fit woman with a face that was nice but didn’t just knock you over so bad that you were afraid to approach her, probably no more than ten years younger than him, if that. He had no problem with the local races, but the Presidential race was different. He thought and thought, then pulled a quarter out of his pocket. It was a Nevada quarter, he noticed; he figured that made it okay.
He gave it a surreptitious little flip into the air with his right hand and deftly caught it in his palm. He slapped it onto the back of his left hand, but he already knew it was going to be heads. He heard a little soft snort of laughter from the nice-faced woman, and noticed that she was holding a coin on the back of her hand too, as she snuck a cute little glance out of the corner of her eye at him.
As they walked out 0f the polling place, their eyes met, and they both gave an uneasy laugh at the same time. “Well it’s not the way to pick a President,” he said, “but I couldn’t decide on the one who is so dumb he thinks you can open a window on a plane, or the one who didn’t respond to the Gulf oil spill any better than Bush responded to Katrina.”
“And I couldn’t decide on the one who is so dumb he thinks that we should deny gay folks the right to be as unhappily married as I’ve been three times, or the one who lets people ruin our water supply and cause earthquakes, to pull natural gas out of the ground.”
One meal, two beers and six hours of non-stop talking, kissing, and hand-holding later, they walked into the nearest wedding chapel.