A discussion on a message board elsewhere reminded me of this Best of the Blog adventure.
I went to visit a girl friend one evening and found her hanging out with two other friends, (two sisters). They were getting ready to head out for a night of clubbing, and they invited me to go with. I, of course, said, “Sure.”
As we were walking out of my friend’s house, they warned me:
“It’s a gay and lesbian club,” my friend explained.
When I was younger, I often had gay guys hit on me in one way or another, in normal, every-day situations. The first couple of times it happened, it bothered me. But then I realized it was a compliment and I easily and politely just explained I’m not gay. No muss, no fuss, no embarrassment for anyone. I wasn’t effeminate or anything, but I was thin, single, and neat.
It happened enough times in my 20s that by the time I grew out of the “look,” brushing off the mistake was almost a habit — I once said, “I’m not gay,” to a guy who wasn’t either but was just making small talk to pass the time standing in line.
Fortunately, apparently no woman ever thought I was gay, so setting off men’s “gaydar” didn’t seem to interfere with women’s perceptions.
Sort of related: While cleaning out some old stuff, I came across some old notebooks from my high school days. In one was a daily journal I had to keep as part of English class homework. Reading the journal is cracking me up. For instance:
Sept 12: School is still great. It seems people think that this girl I’ve been talking to is my girlfriend. But their [sic] wrong. I have no girlfriend and won’t [sic] none.
That was from my junior year, and I was 16 years old. Oh the ignorance from inexperience. It wouldn’t take long or much to get me to change my tune about girlfriends.