My gaydar sucks.
“She turned you down?! Probably a dyke…”
“Um, well… technically she prefers women to retaining large amounts of water.”
I went through a period, in my late teens and early twenties, when I developed a succession of crushes on unsuspected lesbians. I’d get all smitten and full of crush only to discover (once quite embarrassingly) that it just wasn’t going to be. And while this is a surprisingly ego saving method of rejection (it’s not you exactly, more your penis) it seems to have left its own particular scars on my psyche. Until I have proof (of the undeniable variety) I assume that anyone I like is gay. If I hear the term ‘partner’ instead of ‘boyfriend’ from a girl I get suspicious and, depressingly, a little turned on. If after that point of ‘partner-dom’ I later hear reference to a previous boyfriend, I move them into the ‘possibly goes both ways’ column – which is a cool column, in theory if not practice.
I’ve had a couple of girls change teams after being in a relationship with me – something I’ve always presented in as positive a light as possible when it comes up at parties.
“You turned her gay?!”
“Apparently I was the pinnacle of her masculine experience so, resultingly, she’s had to broaden her gender horizons in hopes of attaining more expansive experiential peaks.”
That starts to sound hollow after seven or eight repetitions.
The world likes balance. Thus it makes sense that gay men have developed a succession of crushes on me. I can’t blame them for this, apparently. According to some commentators a history of dance training and an ability to articulate myself is tantamount to wearing leather pants and growing a handlebar moustache.
“Dude, it’s your hair” said my brother, “it’s just kinda happier than other hair”.
I thought this was a ridiculous theory but as my hair has slowly disappeared from my scalp, my arse doesn’t get pinched quite so often. So I had gay hair. Which, ironically, my arse paid for.
This balance of liking and being liked by various gay elements of society seems to have affected my gaydar. I’m fairly good with men, which doesn’t help me, but suck at women, which really doesn’t help me. ‘Are you a lesbian’ is not a great ice-breaker – trust me.
I’m told that the upside is that such ‘depth of character’ gives me the appearance of sophistication. Women really like sophisticated, articulate men who can dance. This, I’ve discovered, is because such men are engaging, graceful and non-threatening.
Because they’re gay.
People wonder why I don’t go out much.