Gay man seeks straight woman to share closet

Hello!
Cheers to all of you new readers who've found my site via Linnaeus' post on Feministe. Welcome!

All has been quiet on the dating front lately, since I haven't been able to find a suitable candidate to go out with. I recently corresponded with a gentleman named Matt, a 41 year old TV editor who wants to be "inspired" by a partner. His profile says, "I'm not broke, and I've got a big smile." Aaah, the bar, it is set so low after a few bad dates. I can confirm from his picture that he is, in fact, quite toothsome. He seemed keen, so after a few emails back and forth, I gave him a call. He didn't pick up, so I left a message.

He called back a few minutes later, half asleep. Strike one! Wake up before you call me, dude! He also had hay fever, so our entire conversation was punctuated by the sound of him blowing his nose. Strike two! Listen, I have allergies, so I can sympathize, but I try to clear out my sinuses before calling a potential date. "So where are you frub? PPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!" Is not appealing. Blow your nose first!

Another thing - I think he might be gay.

By which I mean, in denial of his gay essence, trying to be Teh Straight. He was certainly enthusiastic and chatty. He is very proud that he his vocabulary is full of "SAT words", and this is a good thing. Smart works for me. Here's the problem: He ended? All his sentences? On a high pitch? As if everything he said? Was a question? He asked me if I'd seen "Wicked"; I told him I hadn't but had heard it was good. He then told me that he'd seen it three times, and it was "the best thing ever."

UM. Insert "Friend of Dorothy" joke here! Strike threeeeeeee!!!

Listen, my dad took the family down to Broadway almost every year to see a show, and he's straight as an arrow. Great Thespian And Irish Hottie Kenneth Branagh is one of my fantasy boyfriends. God bless the cultured straight men! But to say? That you're obsessed? With a particular MUSICAL? Pings my gaydar big time.

He also collects puppets. UMMM...

YERRRRR OUT!!!!

How do these guys find me? I am lucky enough to have loads of fabulous gay friends. Maybe he could smell my haggerati status right through the internets? Or perhaps he saw my picture, with my fierce red hair all done up and curled, and thought, "Debra Messing!".

Bitch, I AM NOT GRACE. Two snaps down!

UPDATE: After reading this post, one of my very fabulous gay friends wrote me to say, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHAHAH! That thing is THE GAY." Glad my gaydar is still in working order.