Underneath the gaydar

Well, before I get into today's issue at hand, I must preface this blog entry with the fact that I am a completely straight red blooded male who loves women and beer. Well not exactly red blooded, I could be a bit anemic.
Medical issues aside though, and ignoring the fact that I own a Ricky Martin T-shirt, I'm into chicks. In fact I say the word "chicks" a lot. That should alone be proof of my heterosexuality...seriously, try to imagine a camp guy lisping the word "chicks". It doesn't work does it?


So, why am I being defensive about my sexuality? Well, the other night was a first for me...I went to a gay bar. Now before you start jumping to conclusions, there is a valid explanation, and it doesn't involve me wearing any sort of arse-less pants or satin mini skirts. I was meeting a girl there, who had gone with some friends from work, who happened to be male ballerinas (surprise surprise).

I thought I'd be more weirded out than I was. If you think about it, I paid ten bucks to get in, the place was packed with guys, and the few girls there were ordinary looking, man hating and unfriendly. Not really any different to a normal night out in Melbourne really.

Another eye opener for the uninitiated and naive is that you shouldn't expect them all to look like Zac Efron or the blonde dude from N Sync. Fags come in all shapes and sizes. Short, tall, asian, non-asian, topless, moustached.. the only recurring theme is that they all like male anatomy, and probably roller blading.

I was scared to go to the toilet, because I didn't know what sort of stuff would be going down, pun intended. So I got in and out as quickly as possible, and tried not to touch anything on the way. Read into that statement what you will.

There was one major complaint I had though. Actually I was quite offended. None of the gays hit on me! Not that I wanted them too, but WHY NOT!? What's wrong with me?
Why couldn't I be treated like Paris Hilton in the middle of a construction site? (Or my mate Mario at house parties.. but that's an in joke for another time.)
C'mon, I was the tallest bloke there, I've got a bit of sexual ambiguity going on, at least buy me a (potentially drug spiked) drink or something!
I stood around for a few minutes waiting alone at one stage, and nothing! The occasional lingering touch while they brushed past, but otherwise nothing! I even jokingly "presented" at one stage by leaning over the cigarette machine with my friend. Nothing! No ass grope or anything.
The only random bloke that spoke to me was this goofy looking guy who was standing next to us outside, and made conversation how he was excited to watch a straight guy and straight girl "play mind games" with eachother before they "get it on".
What!? I'm offended! Why did he assume we were straight? I could have been an outrageous queen with my hot lesbian friend, both out looking for weird group sex or something. You could have at least tried something on instead of just assuming we were straight! All I wanted was an offer. Anything. Maybe even a "hi there" with a wink, just to know I'm wanted. Obviously I wouldn't be taking up said offers, but I wanted to know how it felt to be on the giving end of a man rejection. I was going to say I wanted to see how it felt to reject someone that could possibly also beat me up... but most of the women I turn down also fall into that category.

So it's a bit depressing to know that if my brain was wired differently, and instead of craving beautiful girls I wanted the anal pleasure of a shirtless Asian named Grantley, I'd be a failure.

Honestly, it's ridiculous. I'm at my physical peak. I should be classed as prime tender young meat for predatory fags.
I'm right to be upset, yes?