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September 7, 2009 | by  | in Opinion |
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I bought a gaydar off trademe

second-hand but mint condition

fish

How do you know they’re gay? I often get asked this question, and me, being a smart-ass, know-it-all, invincible youth of the gay community, respond with, “I just know”. As though there’s a dancing neon sign above them that straight people can’t see. I know I can’t determine anyone’s sexual orientation by merely judging their appearance, why does anyone think they can? It’s one of those judgements that we’re all proud that we think we can make, yet we are upset when the role’s reversed and other people do it to us, particularly straight people. Where did this dichotomy of evaluations come from? I personally take pride in being able to spot almost any gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender and intersex person within 100 meters from me, and the base of this determining is structured from their appearance and how they are viewed in their social surrounding.

However, it’s a complete self-confessed double standard, I’d feel a little bit put out if somebody were to analyse me purely from my appearance, to judge my sexual orientation from my manner and my lack of fashion sense. I have to confess I do meet a lot of the lesbian stereotypes; I have dyed spiked hair and an abundance of piercings. I don’t enjoy wearing high heels or g-bangers, I can’t apply eyeliner without jabbing myself, and I’m a complete perve. I’m not trying to imply that I don’t like being pinned for being a lesbian almost immediately, I quite like that I can be easily identified with a community that bares the symbol of a rainbow, and just quietly I think I’d make a pretty scary straight girl. Although I do get a little self-righteous when people make the assumption that I’m lesbian just because I drag my feet when I walk, that I can’t remember the last time I brushed my hair, and that I’d take a beer over a vino or lolly water any day.

Another assumption that really grinds my gears is when all women think I’m hitting on them or desperately lusting after them. Just because they have breasts does not mean they’re my type.

There are the people in society who fall into the categories that are often misinterpreted, such as metrosexual straight men and tomboy straight women. Some straight men just like to dye their hair, exfoliate and moisturise and wear painfully tight Calvin Klein t-shirts. It doesn’t mean they like shagging dudes. How did David Beckham end up with all those gorgeous kids, he’s obviously procreating with the Posh.

It works with tomboys too, some women just don’t want to be feminine, and they can still be with men. For example, Jessica Biel, she wears baseball caps to any event and she bagged Justin Timberlake. Can’t remember the last time Kate Hudson was seen wearing a bra, she’s married and has a cute metro son. Pink rides lawnmowers through town, she’s more masculine than my Dad and Obama put together and she gets with men all the time.

Whether with approval or disgust, strangers love to share their thoughts about someone who doesn’t fit easily into a gender category. I was walking with my girlfriend one night through town and I actually had guys pull over and yell advice from their car on how to “cure” our “problem”? If I don’t like penis now, how is more penis supposed to make me change my mind? I’ve had elderly people frown and blatantly stare at me, as if I can’t see them, and tell me “there are children around”. Of course there were children around we were at the beach, I was kissing, I wasn’t diving anything might I add, just kissing my girlfriend. On the other end of the scale you get the middle-aged balding men who go to clubs in town and sit in the corner with their scotch on the rocks watching all the young drunk bodies rubbing against each other on the dance floor, gay and straight alike. I’ve had my fair share of creepers giving me the nod of approval and waiting in anticipation for my next move. Fork out the $12.50 per month for Spice channel and get your jollies at home where young pissheads don’t have to feel your presence. I don’t snog girls against a wall to turn on straight men watching from the dark corner.

Speaking of porn, no matter what people advertise, there are two kinds of porn. Straight porn and gay porn. Two silicon-chested, long finger-nailed, lipstick wearing, blonde bombshells going at it in a hot tub is not gay porn. It’s straight porn, aimed at straight men. You know lesbian porn is authentic when it includes a Mohawk, a ripped flannel shirt and a greasy car part.

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