Saturday, March 9, 2013

Recognising your own kind

The age old question in this world is always how do I attract the right mate. So we have developed all sorts of complicated rituals in an endeavour to do just that very thing, many of them involving dress. Some of them are so ingrained that we don't even know that we are doing it. Subsequently some people probably flag themselves without realising it...
A woman hopped on the bus this morning and the first thought was, probably a dyke. Now what lead one to that conclusion was the gaydar going off... see one might have been excommunicated from the sisterhood, but that doesn't dismantle the damn thing. There was also the visual clues including, but not limited to, her being short on hair, short on dress sense and wearing jeans and a leather jacket both at least one size too big. Now you are thinking that she just might have been very short of style and you might be right.

Some people just have an unfortunate look. Many moons ago we had a friend that had that look. We used to call her gay bait. You could plop her down in a gay bar and it was only minutes before she was being swarmed. She had the right look... which was unfortunate 'cos she was as straight as a die. But she did like to dance and drink... and lord knows the lesbian community in this part of the world likes to drink.

While others do it quite deliberately...
We might snicker at the clich├ęs of the people wearing leather chaps to the dungeon and at the ridiculous dress stipulations that are needed to get in... must wear fetish gear... why is that even necessary. You're in a dungeon, surely you are all there for the same reason. And then the thought crossed the mind... well it does stop strangers wandering in by mistake. You can pick them off at the door. So it is like a signalling device... just used in reverse. You must wear a costume to enter this ride...

Of course none of this helps in the real world, where wearing leather chaps is probably considered a strange thing outside of certain parts of America and Sydney... of course in Sydney there is usually nothing on underneath... and even then only in certain areas at certain times. So we are left with imperfect systems like verbal and written communications, where we get to hope and pray that the other person isn't going to be offended or take what we say the wrong way...
Thinking about it it's a miracle that we ever get laid at all... let alone find the right mate. 

5 comments:

ancilla_ksst said...

I hate to think what my clothes are signaling.

nzrubber said...

Darn, I saw the title of this post and began hoping that you had come upon the answer to this great mystery. Oh well. I guess I could start to help myself by actually leaving my cave once in a while...

Master's piece said...

@ancilla-ksst It probably says that you are a busy arsed woman. Which would be supported by your account of a typical day that you wrote about in your blog :D

@nzrubber See one is learning to be helpful from some of the fabulous examples you have left on the blog. Happy to help :D

OnTheRoadToRuin said...

I actually thought the same thing as nzrubber when reading the title. :) However, after reading, I actually have to admit that I do sometimes judge the book by its cover, so to say. This is also true for myself, the minute someone finds out I'm from the south; it's automatically associated with country music, big hair, slow speech and low IQ's. Basically, I have to agree with your statement...attracting the perfect mate is a bit like trying to find a black cat in a coal cellar. ^.^

Master's piece said...

Yeah have to be honest and say one wouldn't be single for quids. It ain't easy from what one sees :(