No Straignt Man in the World Would Ever say That

matt: You go, girl.

Oh yeah? Check this out. I’m a hetero, but seeing lesbian sex does nothing for me. Two women going at it in a public place? Fine. Great. It doesn’t arouse me. Other hetero guys think I’m severely messed-up.

OK, I am straight, heterosexual, or whatever the PC word is right now :wink:

However, I was raised with the notion that gay people are normal people, they’re out there, and mostly closer than a lot of people think. I have an uncle who’s gay, this was the main reason I was raised that way.
And it makes a huge difference too. Although The Netherlands are fairly liberal, well VERY liberal in this respect, there’s a difference for many people between saying that gay people are fine, and actualy seing two men kiss each other and thinking THAT’s fine.
I have no problem seeing 2 guys kiss each other. However, the thought of having sex with a man seems disgusting to me. But then again, a gay man might be disgusted by the thought of having sex with a woman.

I suppose… well fill me in her girls :slight_smile:
(no pun intended with the filling in bit eh)

Some people are even so homophobic as to not being able to admit that a guy (actor, rockstar, you name it) is goodlooking. Hey, if I’ll second my girlfriend in stating that Brad Pitt is an attractive guy, does that make me gay or something ??

I think not. BTW, I also match ties, socks, shirts, etc.

Coldfire


“You know how complex women are”

  • Neil Peart, Rush (1993)

Well, let’s see here:

I sometimes wear makeup.
I don’t hate men.
I have never owned a pair of Birkenstocks.
I don’t listen to the Indigo Girls, and I skipped Lilith Fair the last time it came through town.
I shave my legs and armpits.
I like my hair long.
I don’t go around doing “masculine” things, like repairing cars, just to prove a point. (I couldn’t fix a car if my life depended on it.)

And, I am much more attracted to women than men. Back in high school, there were lots of rumors about me being a lesbian. This was because I didn’t have a boyfriend, not because I fit any stereotypes. Lots of girls didn’t have boyfriends (because they were very picky, preserving their virginity, just didn’t have the time, or put schoolwork over their social lives), and rumors went around about them, too. It just so happens that in my case, they were right.

      • I try to see what women “look” for and it generally escapes me. I used to know a girl that was married to a guy, that everything female seemed to think was just heavenly. (I wish I had a pic to post so’s the ladies here could weigh in.) He didn’t look like any movie or TV star I could recall and nobody said he did. I thought he was normal looking; on the short side and quite thin to the point of being scrawny. Women would approach him when he was walking with his wife and kids, and hand him phone numbers. Once they were in a shopping mall and a lady came up and wrote her phone # on his arm with a ballpoint pen. And these occurrences were not that unusual. Women would follow his car home and stop by when his wife wasn’t there, or when they thought she wasn’t there. Any public place he went, if you watched carefully you would see all the women take a goooood loooong look at him. This happened everywhere he went. I never met another guy that had this effect. - I wasn’t around him much, but I will admit that when I saw him I would stare and try to see what was so great, and I never did. Must be a hormonal thing. - MC

It developed that I needed to talk to an old friend last week to get some skinny on an outfit we’re considering doing some work for. I haven’t seen him that much since he got custody of his son, but the evil mom was going to have the kid Saturday (last) night and my friend had some symphony tickets, so we made a plan.

Well, I thought if I’m going to the symphony I might as well get a haircut, My faithful haircutter of years had a kid and closed her shop, so I’ve been winging it of late. I wear my hair slicked straight back, partly because women seem to like it, but also because you can let it grow for awhile without getting too grungy in appearance. The problem with it is that it’s often difficult, when it starts covering my collar and curling around and beginning to look a little hip, to convince a stranger that I really want a lot cut off. I wanted 6 months worth of haircut, but got about two. Grrrr. Oh well.

Saturday evening rolls around and my friend comes to pick me up. We used to wear suits everyday, but things have changed and it’s been months since either one of us have been so attired. So it’s my buddy’s first chance to wear one of the tailor made dress shirts he’s got. Looks sharp - you just don’t see cufflinks everyday.

He’s made us a reservation at the Sierra Grill on Montrose - an unknown quantity for both of us. Turns out it is a somewhat pricey yuppie (is that still viable jargon?) place with a few of their own different dishes. Starting off with some battered and woked oysters (gave up the raw ones 3 or 4 cholera outbreaks ago), we peruse the offerings. There 8-10 pages of wine list, including a $1200 bottle of something french. But we find a 1995 Diamond Mountain Cabernet Sauvignon for $47! It’s a steal!

On to the entrees… I consider the wild boar enchiladas, but decide that’s probably a little too gamey and go for the filet. Man! They must’ve marinated that thing in papaya juice - it had the consistency of butter. I noticed it had a horizontal slice not quite all the way through; maybe that helped it cook evenly. Might try that next time I barbecue. Grilled veggies were good, too, with corn that was grilled on the cob and then sliced off in rows. Killer meal!

And the wine just kept getting better and better as it breathed. The last glass (~45 minutes after opening) was memorable.

My friend had the freshwater trout grilled in the good old standby lemon butter sauce and said he’d recommend it. The restaurant has a great looking dessert menu, but all we could manage was Irish Coffee. The waiter did the wine thing OK, but seemed a little (what?) less than graceful. Altogether a good chowdown, but expect, for two people, to smoke 140 bucks or so.

On to the show! Timing was great, we got parked and seated with about five minutes to go. The gal sitting on the other side of my buddy was attractive, about my age and wearing an evening gown designed to display her. She caught me looking, so I sat back in the shadow of my friend and consoled myself with the thought that she wasn’t dressed like that because she didn’t want anyone to look at her. Oh well, lights out…

Fucking Rachmaninoff! The guy’s all over the damn map! That was some of the most disjointed “music” I’ve ever been subjected to. We were coming off of having Santana cranked up in the truck on the way in, but I don’t think that ruined anything. It was just a technical strut for the visiting pianist, Alexander “Fingers” Toradze and the conductor, Yan Pascal Tortelier (making his Houston debut). Sure, I played music for many years, and I was impressed to some degree. But this is the Houston Symphony. They’re supposed to be good! It’s not like I was expecting pot luck night at Dan Electro’s Guitar Bar.

Well, we make it to intermission and scarf a couple of beers and smokes and consider bolting. But the last piece on the program actually has a name instead of a number, so we thought it might be from an opera, so we hung in there. Back inside I noted thankfully that the damn piano wasn’t center stage anymore. The gal in the dress didn’t make it back. Lights out again.

First up was something from Dutilleux, a name I’ve heard but know zip about. It was an improvement, but it was still hard to listen to. All sharps and flats made it tense, sort of like theme music for a suspense thriller. Without a suspense thriller to watch while we listened, though, it became somewhat tedious. The, guessing from her position, 3rd violin was great looking, but hard to see, so I mainly watched the tall blond violinist at the edge of the stage - reminded me of Suzanne Sommers.

When that piece died down, they changed around for the last effort. I noticed they doubled the percussion section and that got my hopes up. What we heard was from Pini di Roma by Respighi. While I don’t think Respighi’s going to become my favorite composer, in the context of the evening, it was great! Actually had melodies and some well placed sound effects. You could follow it. Worked to a crescendo where they played off a couple of horn players up in the balcony and the percussion boys were workin’ out!
Kind of like trailing the whole game then turning it around in the bottom of the ninth. So, they redeemed themselves. Clap, clap, clap.

Well, it’s only 10:00 by then and we thought about going to shoot some pool, but we were only a block away from the Rice Hotel so we shuffled on over to the bar there. Good size crowd and we sit at the bar, and of course, ogle the gals, who are dressed to be looked at. And realize there’s not one we can see that’s not young enough for us to be their dads.

So as inevitably happens, we wind talking drilling business bullshit. Until we get found by the only woman in the place near our age. She’s a thoroughly libated 4th grade teacher and, for the price of a cigarette, she’s ours. To have and to hold.

Bleh…besides it being many years since I thought picking up women in bars was a great idea, she was also, to borrow from Mark, really more of a den piece. Anyway, the bartender picks up on the deal and tells our new companion that Mr. Goodbar is out on the patio and needs a new girlfriend. So she’s off like a…well really sort of like a billiard ball. We appreciate the bartender. We tip her.

Santana sounds even better going home, I guess 6 or 7 drinks does that for most guitar stuff.

Oh yeah, I wore matching socks.

What the fuck…?

Let’s see:

I never wear makeup.
I own, and frequently wear, a pair of Birkenstocks.
I am a huge fan of the Indigo Girls, having seen them six times and had dinner with them once.
I went to all three Lilith Fairs.
I have never shaved my legs or armpits.
I have fairly short hair.
I like to do masculine things.

What do you know! I’m a lesbian!

Dr. J

PS: Does it matter that I’m a guy?

That always made me mad that people would think that I’m a lesbian just because I think some woman are pretty. My boyfriend said something about a friend of mine, and I said, “Oh, she is so cute!” and he just looked at me funny. Sheesh.


Welfy

I wonder what the king is doing tonight?

I’d look at you funny, too, Welfy. Imagine, a woman actually saying something positive about another woman :slight_smile:

I second that emotion.

I third it, but hell, it was very entertaining.

Hey Welfy! Long time! :slight_smile:

I hope things are going well at home.


>^,^<
KITTEN
Coffee, chocolate, men . . . Some things are just better rich.

I just realized that other than the fact that I don’t use urinals and have one or two female friends, Omniscient and I are completely alike.

Of course, I am a straight female…

Dear StraightDopers,

I am a man who likes the words *divine, horrid, sweet, fabulous, scrumptious, tingly, kitch, *and delightful.

Am I gay?
Kisses,
TennHippie

cough

Sshhhh, don’t tell anyone, but I sometimes shave on weekends. I think I might be one of them latent hormonesexuals or something !


Coldfire


“You know how complex women are”

  • Neil Peart, Rush (1993)

My GF has a short haircut and wears Birkenstocks, but she’s not a lesbian. She is in fact the only heterosexual on her rugby team.

I’m straight and used to have problems with others and their gay relationships.

After watching Jenna Jameson and Chasey Lain go at it, I am more than accepting of lesbian sex! It’s an educational experience that would make the staunchest of homophobes think twice.

Zette is infamous for the ediquette typo; want another?

Well, no wonder they suspected something! :wink:

I always though that so-called gay traits were just a bunch of dumb stereotypes; then I made gay friends, who introduced me to their
friends, and they all swore up and down that they could tell if someone’s gay by the way he talked, mannerisms, and so on. So what’s a naive straight guy to think? And if theres no such thing as “gaydar,” how do they get partners? It’s bad enough being a man asking out women, but at least the worst they can do is say no; they don’t turn purple and beat the crap out of you!

“They?” As in, “you people?” It was probably an accident, but you might want to be careful, for it appears your Freudian slip is starting to show…
But to answer the second half of your question, which is largely unconnected to the first: in today’s world, often by going to places frequented by gays, pretty much the same way heteros usually do it. (Has anyone ever bragged about having straightdar?) Or to put it another way, though more so in yesterday’s world than today’s, perhaps: VERY CAREFULLY.