Homos and fauxmos and straights, oh my!

One huge thing I've learnt in the single patches of my tempestuous dating life is that men are tricky. When you're young you're taught that boy will meet girl (eyes across a crowded room), say hi, be lovely - and single - and love will blossom in the blink of an eye. Not so. Noughties males seem to make the already baffling task of meeting a decent specimen much harder than it needs to be, not least because sexuality has become so flexible. Some social scenarios are easy to navigate; last week I went to the fabulous West End Eurovision, and I knew I didn't need to bother with looking hot in a squealing sea of gay men and dancey girls. But, confusingly, there's such a thing as the Gay Straight Man; I once worked with a gorgeous guy at a kids' summer camp, and was convinced he was flirting with me... until I added him on facebook and checked out the photos of him at a recent Gay Pride event. Many just don't go for the tank tops and hair product, and there's nothing more embarassing than thinking you were having a frisson with someone who was merely checking out the darling embroidery on your cardi. Please see Sue Sylvester's 'Sneaky Gays' rant for further disapproval.

Fauxmosexuals are even harder to spot - these are very well-dressed straight men who play up to the Gay Best Friend-type relationship (bitching, gossiping, hugs) and then BAM! hit you with the news that they actually like girls, usually by launching themselves at you. Goodbye potential GBF and hello bafflement. And don't even get me started on Bromance. Our formerly boisterous and marginally homophobic straight friends are now free to frolick with their boy pals, cry, hug and jump on each other in a non-rugby context without any censure. This is beautiful of course, and I would never want to turn back the clock, but then what chance do potential girlfriends stand? If their mancrush doesn't like you, you're out. If you hang in there, chances are your new boyf would rather cosy up with him of a weekend. The boundaries have changed, and we don't always enjoy it. 'Metrosexual' I have a bit of a problem with - is this not just another word for 'preening git'? By all means guys, spray tan, manicure and guyliner yourself into the blurry area between gay and straight, but I certainly won't be going there. Who wants a boyfriend who can lend you organic lipbalm and a tiny mirror at a moment's notice?

Mixing in drama circles, you'll find the tiny percentage of straight men are bursting to prove their hetero virility between trills and pliés. They'll hit on anything in a skirt to boost their fragile ego (yes, the jig is up, we all know you were the fat/spotty/weedy kid in school) while certainly having a covert girlfriend, and being a thespian, having the ability to pull out any line at any time to charm you. So the point is, I'm puzzled. Single life seems shark-infested right now, as I lose track of the types I need to mentally cross off the list. There seem to be so few simple, unbaggaged, nice men out there available for a straightforward drink and a no-surprises flirt. I've had enough drama for one year and am in the market for some smooth sailing. Although for now, the (non-sneaky) gays are perfect for drinking and dancing your troubles away with...