I love hanging around, and flirting with, straight guys. I've always liked it. There are lots of theories why.
Theory One. Avoidance
My first lover was straight and married. I was 19, he was 39. There was no love involved, it was pure, hot, man-on-man sex. My first crush (after the first boyfriend.... don't ask) was on a straight guy. He was another sailor. My second crush was also on another sailor. When I finally got out of the Navy and got myself a gay boyfriend I didn't lose any time in finding a bajillion reasons why he was unsatisfactory. When I got honest, though, there was only one reason I dumped him. Because he cramped my drinking style.
But nothing says "Keep Away" like dating some straight man who's gonna run home to momma after a night of hot, sweaty, deniable, sex.
Theory Two. Self-loathing.
I was never entitled to any happiness. Growing up in the sort of dysfunctional family I had, I wouldn't have known a "happy relationship" if it'd come up and bit me on the ass.
As far as I knew, sex went hand in hand with unhappiness. It was just another way of self-medicating (until I discovered booze). I was not worthy of being loved. I'd heard that message often enough as a child from people who would be horrified to know that that was the message that they sent me. And long after those people died I continued to act as judge, jury and executioner of my own, continued misery. It was a dirty job, but somebody had to hate me.
Theory Three. Fear of Success/Failure/Happiness.
Groucho Marx once said that he would "never belong to a club that would have" him as a member. I related to that. I was such a mess. I'm not such a mess now, although I'm still tip-toeing through the mine field of my past, trying to find some serenity and love and peace in my present and future. It's gotten lots better. So have I. Now I believe that I am loveable, and that I am just as deserving as the next person to live happily, and paired if I so choose, as the next person.
But even in sobriety I find myself still retreating to the safe haven of flirting exclusively with straight men and leaving skid marks while escaping any possible romantic involvement with gay men. What if I find some guy who loves me? What am I supposed to do with that? I'm sure I'll fuck it up and make the poor SOB miserable. Better to avoid love altogether and stick to nice, safe, distant, emotionally unavailable straight men.
But there's just one teensy little problem with flirting with straight guys.
These days most guys ain't so straight. As a matter of fact, even in the old days guys weren't so straight either. I can think, offhand, of at least 4 guys I knew in college who would've happily bedded down with me for at least one tumble in the hay, if not more. 4 guys who were, for all intents and purposes, straight as arrows. In one case, he and I both had permission from his girlfriend (which was kind of weird). She told us both, flat-out, before she disappeared for the summer, leaving the two of us alone in the house, that if he was ever going to "fool around that way" she would've preferred that it would be with me. She literally gave us permission.
And FYI, no we didn't. I knew I'd never be able to look her in the eyes again if we'd had. But we came close that summer. I think that today all three of us are relieved that nothing happened that beautiful summer 30 years ago. I'm not sure what their grown children would've thought of it. Or their grandchildren, for that matter.
Look, I'm pretty sure I don't want to entice straight men into a lurid life of homosexuality. But God help me, it's a helluva lot of fun trying!