Tag Archives: lesbian

The L Word

So I don’t know how many of my fellow bro-tastic straight ladies ever get mistaken for lesbians. It’s a pretty classic scenario–you swear like a sailor and make raunchy jokes that would make your sex-crazed grandma blush if she wasn’t dying from dementia. You lack some basic flirtation skills. You can chug a beer like a badass. Perhaps you like-a da ladies?

Now, don’t get me wrong. The only scenario that I care where people think I’m a lesbian is if I’m trying to get my mack on (and the lack of flirtation skills makes this difficult anyway). I mostly find it humorous how people try to wheedle this information out of me.

Not that I don’t always contribute to the illusion. Sometimes it’s just fun to be a bro.

So I present to you three scenes of mistaken identity and/or clumsy interrogation:

Scene: Driving with my dude-friend down an eerily deserted Los Angeles street.

Dude: You know, I think all the guys thought you were a lesbian after the way you were talking about the naked ladies on those playing cards last night.


Scene: A group of dudes and I were all playing poker with a Playboy deck of cards. These cards had pictures of naked ladies. Lots of them were making “duck face.”

Dude 1: Oh man, I love the tits on the two of hearts.

Dude 2: The queen of diamonds is so hot!

Me: Really, guys? I mean, she has total bitchface. Look at her face. Ugh. I wouldn’t tap that.

Dude 2: Not really looking at her face.

Me: Even so. Tits McGee is NOT working with natural materials. The four of clubs is much hotter.

Dude 1: What do you think of the ace of spades?

Me: Meh. I fold.


Scene: I’m in my old house that I shared with a lesbian couple. They were having a dinner party with some of their friends and I was invited to kind of mooch on their food and conversation. Instead of really mingling, I’m standing in the corner, gnawing on mini quiche.

Roommate’s brother: So how are you liking L.A.?

Me: I like it a lot, actually. I mean, I don’t know if I’ll settle here permanently, but I like it.

Roommate’s brother: Well, you never know what the future will bring. Any day you could meet Mr. Right…or Mrs…..

[Roommates stop talking and eye me expectantly]

Me: Um. Mister. Mr. Right.


Scene: Bar, last week. I’m talking with a girl-friend. The bar itself is covered with coasters that feature the movie poster for “Friends with Benefits.”

Me: Ugh. You know, this movie actually has pretty good reviews on Rotten Tomatoes, but I just have NO interest in seeing it.

Girl: Me neither.

Dude: (after semi-overhearing us discussing the movie) You want to see this?

Me: No—

Dude: Would you want to see it for her (covers up Justin Timberlake’s face) or him (covers up Mila Kunis’ face)?

Me: (sighs) Really? (covers up Mila Kunis’ face).

[Though, to be honest, JT’s not really my “type” and I would probably just as soon hit Mila Kunis. That said, is JT walked up to me on the street and was like, “Hey, wanna bang?” I wouldn’t even think about it…]


And word to the wise: if you ever really want to know, I’m pretty sure it’s okay to ask.