The test

I recently went to a wedding dress fitting for my sister-in-law-to-be. She bought her dress at the same place where my friend Jen got her dress and I had heard tell from both of them of the guy that worked there and how it was hard to tell if he was gay. In my mind, I couldn't figure out how a guy could work at a wedding dress place without being gay, but then again I have a straight-and-proud hair guy, so you just never know.

So the test began the moment I walked in the door to the non-air-conditioned shop in downtown Orlando. I had to find out. Why I cared about a stranger's sexual preference, I don't know, I guess it was something for me to do while I waited.

The very flamboyant man that greeted us at the door had a bit of a rustic lumberjack beard and pretty brown eyes. Not bad looking, but was wearing some sort of old, really bad semi-Hawaiian button down type of shirt with some Wal-mart-esque jeans.

As Jamey headed back to the dressing room, the radio was blaring. I guess it was the Pussycat Dolls as he asked me if I was familiar with the group. I said I'd heard of them. But he wanted to know if I KNEW them... I was like "Well they are strippers right? They are strippers that formed a pop group."

My stripper accusation seemed to miff him a bit as he went off on how he had seen them live and they were ever-so-talented and just as beautiful as their pictures. Hmmm I can't imagine any of my straight friends singing along to the Pussycat Dolls (except Matty of course), but I can't imagine a gay guy going on about the beauty of female stripper-slash-singers. The puzzler continued.

Back to Jamey: He told her she needed to get some color. She agreed; we all discussed different fake tan or fake bake options.

Then I hit the jackpot.

Wedding guy said he had been at a nightclub recently and one of the male dancers was trying to help define his six pack by putting fake tanner on in streaks to outline the abs, and that it looked just ridiculous. Stripes on the male dancer's stomach. Oh the laughing. Oh the confirmation.

They don't call me an investigatory journalist for nothing.