I was walking down the aptly-named Homo Hill in Seoul last weekend, and a guy stopped me on the street. He asked my name, leaned in, lowered his voice, and said: “So are you, uh, you know, straight?” “No,” I whispered back. “That’s why I’m here.”
He scoffed playfully and said, “Aw, I’m looking for girls.” “You’re looking in the wrong place,” I told him. “No, it’s the perfect place!” he said, laughing. “Oh,” I said. “You’re one of those obnoxious predatory guys who hits on straight girls who go to gay bars to escape guys like you.” Still laughing, he pushed my forehead, as if we were good buddies and I’d just made a joke.
I wasn’t laughing.