Many many years ago, back when I was far more socially awkward and uptight and sexually repressed than I am now, I was invited into the home of a friend-of-a-friend, someone I didn't actually know. This gentleman was ursine, boisterous, and flamingly gay.

Needless to say, I was somewhat uncomfortable in this social milieu, and didn't hide it very well. I worried, the whole time, that at any moment our host might leap up and accuse me of being a homophobic bigot, because I was visibly not comfortable in his presence.

What I had wanted to say (and, of course, didn't have anywhere near the cojones to actually verbalize) was "I'm not uncomfortable because you're gay. I'm uncomfortable because I don't know you. Also, you're kind of in my personal space. Also, you don't appear to have any personality traits other than 'gay'. Also, you're apparently under the impression that a big ol' dildo is acceptable living room décor, what the hell".