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I don’t think I emit them.  In all my thirty years, I think I was mistaken for being gay once.  I was laughing at my friend’s joke, turned my head while I was still smiling, and made eye contact with a big burly dude who had at least seventy pounds of muscle on me.  He scowled and told me he didn’t swing that way.  When he proceeded to move faster, I ducked.  I thought he was going to knock me the eff out.  But he didn’t, he just wanted to get out of there.  I guess he was as afraid of me as I was of him, but for different reasons.  Good times.

Or black hole, or whatever you want to call it.  I honestly can’t tell whether I’ll take a peek when a dude drops his pants and bends over in front of me.  It’s not like cleavage, where a girl wearing something low cut bends low in front of me and my eyes are locked on and shooting eye beams at her tits.  I think women know when you’re sneaking glances at their cleavage anyways.  I’ve had multiple friends tell me that they caught me sneaking glances at theirs.  If there’s cleavage, I’m looking.  But for a dude’s butt hole, I don’t know.  Hopefully I’ll never be in that situation, but if I were, I think there’s a good chance that I’ll look for a split second just to satisfy my curiosity.  It’s kind of like when a friend tells you about “Two girls and a cup” and shows you the recorded reactions of all the people who watched it.  You think to yourself, “it can’t be that bad, can it?  I’ll just take a peek . . .”