Broken Gaydar?

When I flew out to Seattle last week, I had a fairly amusing experience. Early in the flight, the flight attendant came around to serve beverages. I ordered my "spicy tomato" (the generic parlance for bloody mary mix) and asked for the rest of the can. Then, when the meals came out, he confirmed my name for the low-calorie meal. It was an omelette, served over Tater Tots (NOT a good low-cal choice), with some fruit and sugar free cookies (with the full range of chemical sweeteners). He luaghingly said, "First you want the rest of the can, now you get the special meal." I responded with, "It makes me feel special." We both laughed.

In preparation for the trip, I'd cut my hair, and because of my running, I keep it essentially as a crew cut. My moustache was also trimmed short. Since I lost the weight several years ago, I don't wear my wedding ring, out of fear it will fall off. I don't know if the combination of these things made him think I was gay, but I'm pretty sure he spent the rest of the flight coming on to me.

Not that I go that way, but the full court press included him remembering my name. For purposes of the blog (I'm corrupting my blog alias, rather than my real name), I'll say that as I left the plane, he said, "Bye, bye, Scotty." It would have worked better if he'd gotten it right. So, there I was in Seattle, pretty confident I was attractive to at least a portion of the gay community. Of course, that and $2.50 will get you a latte at Starbucks.