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Men are always looking at my girlfriend.
We’ll be walking down the street with gay men walking toward us, doing that scanning thing that gay men seem to do: rest their gaze on my girl.
She gets the look of recognition we give when we make a connection with someone like us. Except of course she’s not like them.
This has been going on for years. We were on the packed dance floor of a gay nightclub several years ago when a man approached her. A classic pick-up line: “Hey I know you.” “Nah,” she shouted back.
He insisted, naming the infamous gay cruising ground they’d first gotten to know each other. He was quite embarrassed when she pointed out the problem.
She’s tall, with broad shoulders, got a bit of attitude and she’s cute (all those gay men can’t be wrong!). Because they are just scanning the crowd they often don’t see her breasts, which are not small. I have on occasion wanted to jump up to their eye line and shout, “She’s mine, bitch!”
Mostly she’s flattered, sometimes perplexed. She has a type and as she’s aged, so has her demographic. Her current type is men with hard gym bodies, stubbly square faces, usually in their 40s. I think she’d prefer the profile to be early 20s, tall, kooky, girls.
I’m always spotting cute dykes, only to discover a teenage boy on closer inspection. The school uniform should give it away. I mean how many bois are there at the local high school? And then recently … I was on the dance floor in a well- known lesbian hangout when I spied a very cute girl.
An impressive red streak in her hair, she was pulling off a student version of the standard Newtown look. She moved across the dance floor, bit of a swagger – nice – my gaze finally rested on her face.
I watched a smile creep into her eyes, which quickly met mine. I nudged my girl. “Hey, the chick in the check shirt is cute.” She looks around. “Yeah. Is it a guy?” “No,” I insisted defensively. He was.
Mistakenly eyeing up a hot schoolboy from across the street is one thing, practically hitting on a gay man (at a lesbian bar) is quite another. It strikes me later that the smile I thought was a connection was probably more of a ‘here-we-go-again’. He probably has lesbians hitting on him all the time … I hope I’m his type.
- Julie Mooney-Somers
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