I've noticed that when I do wear make-up, or where skirts, in other words womanly, I catch men's gazes. I feel like a different person than I use to be 10 years ago, when a man's glance got me more nervous. It felt like a validation that someone thinks I'm worthy. I wish I could remember that sensation of enjoying men's attention more, but it doesn't matter that much anymore. I feel like a lesbian impersonating a straight woman, just based on my female fetish-ware. A few guys were attractive, and there were 4 other women also lookin' fine, yet no one really stirred me. Actually, a stand-in for Jean Smart and another crew member who had the nicest tummy, caught my eye. It wasn't firm like Janet Jackson's. It was fleshy, bigger than mine, yet my pulse quickened when she walked on by. Her black t-shirt wasn't long enough, so her belly-button poked out a bit. It wasn't too Britney Spears-like, yet her fleshiness pulled me in. Not that I was about to put the moves on her, no, I haven't got the gift to lure women into my spiderweb of lust. The only harmless flirtation I did was to take a piece of chocolate from the cast and crew crafty table and handed it to this nice fellow, who was pleased. If I didn't have my piddley little movie credit as an apprentice member, I'd be shovelling cheap-ass pretzels from the background performer's table, which is alway inferior to the feast-of-kings-&-queens served for the cast and crew. Everyone looked good in their suits, but there'll be no suit fetish party happening near the end of the month. When you aren't serious about the target of your flirtation, your nerves are under ice and everything's cool, man, but once that person actually lingers in your thoughts and makes the hairs on your body erect, you, really meaning I, become a blithering idiot. I had a straight male friend who admitted that he doesn't mind it when gay men hit on him, but he also claimed to be a little vain, so his ego gets a good stroking, and don't we all need a good stroking now and then? I suppose when someone doesn't creep you out and they're oozing of charm, anyone can fall for anyone. There's this one fellow, I can't remember his name, I'd always catch looking at me from my peripheral vision, who is ten years younger and has never heard of the show "Welcome Back, Kotter". I've also caught some looks from a silvery-haired fellow, who I thought was gay for sure. I won't say I'm hotter than Halle Barry, nor will I say I'm a pretty girl's pity-friend-tag-along, but I still find it puzzling when someone pays that kind of attention to me, and I feel clumsy handling it. Who'd want to bring me home to their parents, wake up next to me everyday, have artificially inseminated kids with me, have kids who were like me, have our kids bring home a mate that was like me?