"What you waitin' for, cowboy, the matin' call?"

The words had barely finished ringing through his ears when then prettiest little gal in Childress, Texas-- Miss Lureen he'd said her name was-- was dragging a worn out Jack Twist onto the dance floor. He couldn't help himself, he was smiling. Sometimes it felt like he went days between smiles, mostly no one paying attention to him, him struggling to make entry fees. Today he'd won the time trials-- and apparently Miss Lureen.

No one's gonna love you like me. No one else, can't you see?

"That's more like it, cowboy." She grinned at him. She had all the best intentions, and some of the naughtiest too, he could see in her eyes. Damn, it felt like forever since he'd had sex. And even longer since he'd meant it.

I know sometimes you felt so lonely. I know you felt so sad and blue.

"What's up, cowboy, you look like yur somewhere else!" She clearly wasn't looking for an actual explanation, but she was making a valiant-- albiet shallow-- attempt to put that brimming smile back on his young face. Within the first stanza of the song it had slowly slipped off, like it was tied on poorly and now was being trampled on the floor somewhere.

He smiled down at her. His smile was clearly a little forced, but it would do to settle her concern. "That's more like it, cowboy."

"I sure do wish you'd stop callin' me cowboy ever' three seconds like that." 'That name don't belong to me,' he added to himself, silently.

But this time, you know I'm the only love for you. That's coming through with everything I say and do.

The words cut into him like a knife. He squeezed Lureen a bit tighter. She mistook it as meant for her. "So what d'ya like to be called then, anyway?"

"Jack Twist's fine, ma'am."

"You ain't got no nicknames or nuthin'?"

"Jack's already short for John, how much shorter you want it?"

"I just never met a rodeo bullrider without sum silly nickname or 'nother."

"Well I reckon' now you have."

No one's gonna love you like me. No one, no one. No one, no one.