I went to the grocery store this evening and I was waiting in line for the check out when confrontation broke out between between an older man and an older woman about who cut in line; apparently it's now a race to see who can toss away those monthly social security checks. I raised my brow and sneered at the two, knowing I was next in line, when the gentleman in front of me gave me a nudge. I immediately noticed his figure and how he was standing with one leg locked, arms locked, and hands on his hips, but he still didn't strike me as gay until he spoke. He reminded me of my friend's four year old daughter, and how she always speaks as though she's a princess. His voice started off in a lisp and escalated into princess speak. He stated "I wish some rich old man would fight over me like that", and he ended his nonchalant statement with a wink.

What?! Who pulled the rabbit out of the hat, and what the fuck just happened here!? I'm not sure what appalled me more. Was it what he had just said, or was it the fact that he winked at me after he said it, or was it the fact that he could have been under the assumption that I was gay.

I tried my damnedest not to show my aggravation over his comment by redirecting my attention to the elderly people still bickering over line position, but it still bothered me. Even now... it still bothers me.

I do NOT have an issue with gay people what-so-ever. It's just not my cup of tea, end of story. I don't want to think about it, talk about it, watch it, or witness it... just like I don't want to witness the high school sweethearts making out in the mall either. Keep that shit in the bedroom or where ever, just not in front of me.. k? Thanks.

My problem with all of this? This is the third time it's happened in a rather short period of time. I was verbally forced to go to a drag show a couple of months ago. A local club known for being the hot spot hang out for gays was the place of entertainment. I'll admit, it was worth going and very entertaining. We laughed hysterically most of the night until we were too drunk to notice the hilarity. After all, it's not everyday you get to see grown men parading around in pink sequined miniskirts, or adorned in a flashy set of stiletto heals.

Towards the end of that evening, when dancing with my girlfriend, I was given a proposition. A young woman pulled me aside and asked me if I was ready for the greatest blow job of my life. Intriguing enough, sure, until she pointed out the gentleman offering the rim job. A lanky individual wearing cowboy boots, a cowboy hat, and he also sported a van dyke. He was about as "manly" a man could get, aside from his flamboyant dress attire.

For obvious reasons, be it male or female that offered me the oral sex I declined, and shortly there after we left the club due to my uneasiness.

Prior to those episodes I once found myself awaiting the company of a few friends. I did know that we were walking into a gay strip club, I did know that I felt uncomfortable, and I did know that it would be a short wait. What I did not know was that my now ex-girlfriend would be called a tramp by a transvestite, and I would find it ridiculously comical; causing her to get pissed at me and walk out of the strip club while I waited for my drink. Not two minutes into my wait I felt something brush up behind me. Fortunately for myself I was not naive enough to believe the bitch walked her frumpy ass back into the bar, I turned around.

I stood there. Shocked. Bewildered. Confucked over what my eyes surveyed. A juiced out monster of a man wearing nothing but a bright yellow G-string and not seconds ago that damn thing was rubbing up against my ass. Fuck the drink. I'm out.

Yeah, I'm a phobe. When it concerns me and my ass, yes. When it concerns the neighbor guy's ass, not so much.

Seriously, I can understand the strip club and the night club. I walked into them... but the grocery store? Do I have a faulty "not gay" sign? WTF?

So I ask Aime if I appear to be gay. She chuckles briefly and says "Why?" She doesn't say... NO. She says "Why?"

I notify her that I don't find her reassuring at all, she laughs again and tells me "Stop it. I don't ever want to hear you bitch about being uncomfortable until you have to schedule a gyno appointment for yourself, and the day you have an ice cold metal probe rammed in your VA-jay jay is the day I'll give a shit if you got hit on by a gay man."