There is a billboard on a nondescript stretch of freeway just south of George Bush International Airport in Houston that reads, “Wherever you go, God listens.” This must be true because during my weekend stay in America’s fourth largest city I am wanting for great food, interesting cultural attractions and a superabundance of hot and friendly Texan men and, wouldn’t you know it, I receive all three in spades. Gay Houston is a curious place. The largest city in the United States without any formal zoning regulations has the disorienting effect of giving visitors the impression of a mini skyline in any direction their eyes might wander, outward from which spread a jumble of strip malls, clogged freeways, leafy green spaces, bland high rises, gated communities, cramped McMansions, and neighborhoods without central cores. Its urban plan is a tangled mess you want to straighten out like that of a child with a mop of unmanageable hair. But the city is not without its charms. The chaos of Houston has the unintended effect of making every discovery–be it a culinary crown jewel, a funky boutique or a hipster hangout–a hard fought cause for celebration. This racially diverse city is mad for the arts, flush with expansive parks, and perpetually soaked in Bayou heat, the kind that makes summers unbearable but is perfect the rest of the year.