I spent most of it out campaigning for John McCain, a man whom I had a crush on for some time. Every moment I saw him on television—his aged, mole-free, glowing skin; built chest; muscular torso; tiger-cage ruined arm—I just knew he was the man for me. I devoted months to learning about him, his thoughts, his dreams.
And finally, that moment had arrived. I was going to vote for John McCain.
I entered the school gymnasium—it was almost empty, save for the voting machines. Swallowing hard, I slipped behind the curtain and reached up to the McCain lever...my fingers lightly grazing the surface.
Just as I was about to pull downward, I heard a gentle voice from behind.
"Wouldn't you rather vote...for a real man?"
Startled, I turned around. My mouth drew slightly agape as I gazed upon a black stallion dressed in a form-fitting Brooks Brothers suit. It was...Barack.
Words failed me. My finger slid from the McCain lever as my head started filling with confused thoughts. I had wanted John McCain so badly... and here I was in the voting booth with another.
"Barack... but, I w..."
His bicep flexed a little in his oxford shirt as he drew his finger to my lips. His mannerisms were confident; reassuring. I stopped talking and looked him in the eye.
"I know you've been admiring me from afar, watching CNN for hours on end just to try and catch a glimpse of me."
I tried to argue the point in my head, but I just couldn't. For so long I had deluded myself into thinking I was watching CNN to learn more about McCain and his positions on the issues. But now, in this tiny voting booth with the towering, confident Obama... I could think of nothing more than his positions—no—our positions.
I started to nod silently as a slight smile curved across his lips. He knew he had me. Months of work for McCain...and yet being in the Illinois senator's presence for a few seconds had placed me firmly—firmly—in his column.
"I want.. I want to vote for you," I stammered.
His hand met mine, slowly bringing it up to his lever. My heart started racing.
"I want you to vote for me, too," he replied.
I bit my lip a little as my fingers touched the sleek, metallic object. I wanted to make him happy. I had to make him happy. I had to make him my president.
I swallowed hard as I applied pressure to his lever... slowing bringing it down to reveal the X—the X that proved my devotion and longing for him. I turned back to look him in the eyes as a satisfying clunk rattled through the air.
I exhaled deep, filled with a happiness I'd never felt before. But we weren't done, Obama and I.
"I want you to..." Obama gazed deep into my eyes; my soul as he paused, making sure he had my attention. "I want you to vote straight ticket."
Straight ticket!? Could I? The thought never crossed my mind until now, until the powerful, manly legislator suggested it. But there was no use fighting the feeling that was growing inside me. This was destiny. I had to.
"Yes, Barack! Oh, God, yes!" I screamed; my hands wildly attacking the voting machine, pulling the lever for John Kerry, Mike Capuano, and every single Democrat I could find there in that booth. His cologne filled my nostrils as one X turned to two; two turned to three. Soon, the entire machine was covered with votes...votes that proved my love for the ebony God before me.
My head flung back as I grabbed the massive lever that would cast my ballot, bonding me with Barack Obama forever. His breath warm on my neck, my sweat-slicked fingers wrapped around it, slowly moving it to the right.
I screamed out in pleasure as my vote was recorded; the thunderous clank of the gears ringing out in the gym. The curtains flew open behind us... our love for each other would be exposed.
Startled, I spun around... my hand not leaving the machine. I had so much to explain, so many feelings I needed to get out.
But just as quickly as my black knight came...he was gone. I gazed around the gymnasium for seconds that turned into minutes that turned into hours...seeing nothing but a few scattered elderly poll workers.
Had I imagined it? Was Barack Obama real?
That night, I settled into bed, watching as Barack captured a record breaking 90% of the vote. Democrats picked up Senate seats in Idaho, Wyoming, and even Utah, despite there not even being a Senate race there. A smile spread across my face as I saw him stride confidently to the podium, ready to declare victory.
But before he spoke, he gazed directly into the camera. And again, directly into my soul. He gave me a sly smile and winked knowingly before starting his address.
At that moment, I knew that we both felt the same rush of destiny. He was my president, now. And I was his constitutent.
And I'd never felt so happy. Or alive.