Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Flying Under the Gaydar

Gay men love me. It's like they catch a whiff of my Metrosexual airs and it causes a dramatic chemical reaction, like Mentos mints dropped into a soda bottle, of unsolicited attention. It's almost like I'm emitting some signal that causes their Gaydar to get scrambled. I'm not a homophobe by any means; in fact, my disdain of machismo fashion (baggy pants, baseball caps, sports jerseys) and manly sports like American football - combined with a keen interest in elitist/fey sports like tennis, melodic pop music, and films with subtitles - puts me firmly in the aforementioned "Metrosexual" camp. But just because I don't wear a Ravens cap with a Hooters t-shirt and baggy cargo pants doesn't mean I'm "incoming" on your Gaydar screens, fellas!

Craig's List
Just a couple of weeks ago at a "First Thursday" event in Mt. Vernon, "Craig," a total stranger, walked up to me, handed me his card (it said simply, "Craig"), offered me a joint (I declined this golden opportunity to say, "No thanks, I'm straight") and, when I gave him the cold shoulder and walked away, leaned over and said, "Well at least give me a kiss" and licked my neck! Ewwwww! Call me funny about unsolicited bodily secretions, but I felt violated. To quote Hall & Oates, Your kiss is on my list - of the worst things in life!

Then this Saturday at the bookstore, an obviously gay man walked over to me and held up a ballet book, while saying, "This book is written by a man considered to be a great dancer."

Startled, and confused at why he had picked me out of the crowd to discuss this book, I muttered, cleverly, "Um, really? Hmmm, don't know much about it." "Yes," he continued, "But look at the cover!"

He held up a cover depicting a grainy black and white photo of a foot.

"It's a foot," I deduced.

"Yes but it's supposed to be a foot on pointe!" he said disgustedly. "Do you call that on pointe?" I believe he made a dismissive sound next that I can only translate as "Hmmmppphhtt!"

Why me, Ballet Boy? Out of everybody in the store that day, I was singled out as the person most likely to be share his indignation over poor ballet form. Instead I just said, "Oh well, it's just a cover. Maybe the publisher couldn't get the rights to a professional dancer's foot?"

That seemed to satisfy him and he walked away, adding "Any dancer worth their salt would be ashamed of that foot!"

Hmmmppphhtt, indeed!


Blogger Louis Fowler said...

Your sexiness is like a pot boiling over!

6:44 PM  
Anonymous Nanc said...

Do Gays know about 'personal space"? I freakin hate that in-your-face slut mentality they do sometimes. Yes, I know I shouldn't generalize, but if you utter a word, they expect (if not demand), your attention, your life story and your complete devotion. UGH.

10:23 AM  

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