Why I Am A Very Bad Gay, As Measured By Non-Conformity To Various Stereotypes

I don't like to shop (except for books).

In no way am I a fashion plate. Carson Kressley would take one look at my wardrobe and faint.

I don't like to drink. Alcohol just tastes gross to me. Give me a nice cold ginger ale or bubbly Sprite/Sierra Mist.

I'm not promiscuous (though, as you know, this isn't exactly by choice).

I'm not obessed by "acting" straight or fetishizing straight men. Yeah, I can appreciate a handsome straight man and lust after him a little, but I'm not one of those guys who can only go for straight guys.

Frankly, I'm not really fond of most dance/electronic music.

I'm not a very good dancer. My inner white boy overpowers my inner dancing queen when it comes to rhythm.

I have unruly, unplucked eyebrows. Frankly, I think overplucked eyebrows are much more unattractive than unplucked ones.

I don't like working out. No gymrat here!

I have grave misgivings about such gay icons as Madonna, Cher (her post-Sonny, post-plastic surgery mania phase), and Barbra Streisand. Don't quite get the appeal of Judy Garland, either.

My gaydar is atrocious.

I don't think I'd be a good cruiser; I'm too oblivious and too much of a scaredy-cat