Not Gay, Just Hip

Submitted for your approval, a conversation from the Apple Store:

Coworker: "Your customer was really cute."

Lukas: "Heck yeah he was. He's in music, we talked about how much we love Lady GaGa. Thinks Poker Face is much better than Just Dance."

"So he's gay?"

"Negative."

"What?! You're kidding me... right?"

"Nope. He mentioned his girlfriend. Trust me, I'm as confused as you are. It was strange and I didn't like it."

"What is this world coming to?"

"An end, apparently."

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If you've seen my twitter today you would have seen this morning's NY Post article proclaiming the death of the gaydar.

"Now, nearly 10 years after the dawn of the metrosexual -- when straight men first dipped their toes in the proverbial waters of prettiness -- creative hairdos, fashion fever and meticulous preening are no longer the sole provenance of the gay."

And you know what? I think she's right.

In the Apple Store, because there are so many tourists who come to buy stuff on the cheap, we like to joke that our job is a continual game of "gay or european." But increasingly, I've had American males coming in who, at first glance, would appear gay. And then, while I'm in the middle of selling them their iPod, they drop the girlfriend bomb, almost as to say, "Yeah, I know my cut off jean shorts and tailored polo with spiked up bleach blonde hair may suggest I like taking it up the butt, but really I love the feeling of a great vajayjay!"

It's all very Twilight Zone, if you ask me.

Now, as much as I'd like to think that all of these men are just closeted homos, the statistics - not to mention social acceptance - are against me on this one. And don't get me wrong, I'm all for social acceptance of all things gay, but this phenomenon has some very real consequences on the way we live our lives.

Let me provide to you an example:

A few months back I went to a housewarming party in Brooklyn. At this party, there was a skinny, tall, nicely faced guy who even had the same name as I did (albeit spelled with a C). He was practically made for me to want to hookup with him. He was wearing skinny jeans and was with two girls (hags?). We kept making eye contact after we were introduced. I asked around the party to make sure he was gay, and although no one knew for certain, they couldn't see how he wasn't. The stars seemed to be aligning for me that night, and I spent a good hour and a half flirting with him. And then, as he and his two women leave to go smoke a cig, I ask one of them:

"Hey, your friend is gay, right?"

I had the sense that she'd gotten that question before as she looked on me with a sense of pity and replied, "Oh no. He's straight."

"Oh. Okay then."

I stood there in failure and disbelief as my good night fled from me faster than a twink at a leather bar.

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So as much as I'd like to say that this is a step forward in acceptance, until it's socially acceptable to ask someone their orientation right off the bat, you'll have to excuse my bitterness.