A commenter, apparently a crazy woman, suggests:
Most womanizers are gay or bisexuals…don’t believe this B.S.
This commenter must be a woman. This is one of the ways that females get their revenge on the enigma of the womanizer: the only reason he is doing this is because there is some secret homosexual bugbear lurking somewhere in his psyche. The Don Juan is in desperate flight from his latent homosexuality.
I think this crap originally came from psychoanalysis, and the whole concept of latent homosexuality doesn’t make sense. As Otto Weininger would say, homosexuality is one of those A or not-A things. Something one either is or is not. It’s a pair of concepts. All humans, except the asexual, are either homosexual, heterosexual, or some combination of these these things (what we call bisexual). There is no third category. There is no such thing as latent homosexuality. One is either gay, straight, or some combination called bisexual.
Anyway, what a nutty idea! I’ve never met a gay womanizer in my life! How ridiculous can you get? They idea of a gay man sleeping with half the women in town is preposterous. Why? Why would he waste his time?
Are womanizers bisexual? Hard to say.
Most of the ones I’ve known were not, but two of them were, one a very dear friend of mine. He originally was a wild womanizer, one of the most insane I’ve ever known. But he did have a gay side. I know because he used to whistle at me when we were changing to go swim in the pool. Not really whistling as a joke either. Yikes.
Later on, he moved in with this queer in West Hollywood. Then he lost his job. The queer said either put out or get out. Disgusting, huh? I told everyone the fag was a scumbag, and my whole friend circle screamed at me. It’s perfectly acceptable to force a straight guy to screw a fag or else live on the streets!
He came and stayed with me for a while, but then he mysteriously went back. I was up in LA hanging out at nightclubs with him trying to pick up model/actress types, and I went back to his place. I woke up in the middle of the night, and he and the fag were going at it in the next room. Don’t ask me how I knew. I said, “Oh well,” and went back to sleep.
I woke up the next morning, and he was a bit defiant. I temporarily lost a contact lens, and the fag made a fake show of tying to “find it” by putting his hands all over me. Even my friend got in on it. I guess he had come to discover the pleasures of men. I ignored their crap and let them carry on and get their vicarious thrills. Later we found the damned lens.
We had breakfast, and the fag laid some bizarre and ugly psychological trip on me to try to seduce me. Didn’t work.
Later that morning I left, and I said a very warm goodbye to my friend. I decided, in my progressive and multicultural humanism, to love him whether he was fagging off or not. We had a long history together. But I never went back.
I saw him a few times later. A friend of mine saw him too. He was living with the fag and hanging around with this crowd of queers. They would go on trips together, like down to Laguna Beach. No idea what they did down there. Yikes.
Once he passingly remarked that he has a fistula in his anus. He got it from “driving a truck.” Yeah right, dude. He was drinking more, now in the mornings, but he’d always been a bit of a drunk. He had a cute girlfriend with him, a drunk herself. Later I heard he moved up to Santa Barbara to live in a house with her. He might have even married her.
Another guy was basically straight, but I’m sure he was known to do it with guys if times got desperate. I know this because he asked me once.