"So, I'm usually good at these things, but ..." he said.
I knew exactly where this is going. I've seen enough Jennifer Lopez movies ... which, come to think of it, might be the reason for this:
"Which way do you go?" he asked as diplomatically as possible.
"Yeah, I like women," I replied, unfazed.
"OK, that's cool, it's just you always dress nice and have your hair done all nice and everything," he said.
After I told him he's not the first theater guy to ask me that - it is theater, after all - I again told him I'm a fan of boobs and whatnot; I did appreciate the compliments, though.
As I got in my car and the interior light turned on, he noticed the magazine I had just got in the mail that afternoon, laying on the passenger seat.
No, it wasn't Maxim. Or even Esquire. Either would have helped me out. It was Vanity Fair, which this month features a cover with two soccer guys in nothing but underwear.
"Yeah, that's not helping my case, is it?" I said.
Later, when I told Capricorn about it, she laughed and said there are several things not helping my case. To name a few:
* I do musical theater
* I color coordinate
* I read Cosmopolitan
* I watch Bravo reality shows
* I have a special place in my heart for the remake of "A Little Princess."
* I use the phrase "special place in my heart."
* I like to sing along to "Chicago" showtunes.
However, I do not like penises, and that's a requisite.
I do wonder, blog readers, if you've ever mistaken someone for the wrong sexual preference. And better yet, have you ever asked them? Or just found out eventually?