I don't think (or at least I haven't noticed it) that I've been hit on by a gay man in a few years. Then Sunday it happened twice in like an hour, in different circumstances. And I looked like shit, just my usual bearish self. Perhaps it was the Sunday light reflecting on brawny, untanned legs. A come-hither look as I read my book in the park? Naw, just randomness. Now if I could figure out how to use this power with the fairer sex... Time to practice arching my eyebrows and pointing forcefully at things..."Look at the goddamn beauty of that tree." Yes, yes, that's it.