When I was a high school freshman in a suburb just south of Atlanta, I developed a massive crush on a junior, who also happened to be friends with my senior class sister. For his privacy and protection, let’s just say his name was Gaylord. Gaylord had a unique style, and he was never afraid to make a statement through the ever-changing colors of his hair, his modishly inventive clothes or the assortment of awesomely avant garde belts and accessories that often jingled from his glorious form. As a non-conformist myself, I couldn’t think of anything hotter than a guy bold enough to explore fashion beyond the trendy high school boundaries, which at the time included preppy khaki pants, polo shirts and penny loafers.

I passed Gaylord in the hallway every day between second and third periods, and as he sauntered by with his distinctive, sprightly gait, I would whisper a shyly hopeful “Hi, Gaylord.” He would politely smile at me, most likely just because he realized that I was the little sister of one of his friends, as he continued his buoyant stroll to Home-Ec class.

After three weeks of continuing this daily ritual without any further response from Gaylord, I hesitantly approached my sister and two of her senior girlfriends. “I have a crush on someone you know, but he barely notices me! You have to give me some advice on how I can get his attention.” Of course, my sister and her friends demanded to know who I was talking about. When I longingly sighed, “Gaylord,” the three of them looked at me with blank stares before bursting into a chorus of hysterical laughter. “Amy,” my sister said after regaining her composure, “Gaylord is…well, he’s GAY!”

Gaylord is GAY??? How could I possibly have missed the tell-tale signs? The well-groomed hair, the attention to fashion detail, the light bounce in his step, the Home Ec class??? Since that horrific day, I have finely honed my gay-dar so as not to suffer such a heartbreaking incident ever again.

Unfortunately, because many of my Atlanta girlfriends never endured such a tragic event in their high school years, they still haven’t perfected the art of pin-pointing a gay man. And some of these women have just as much trouble spotting married men…especially those sly guys who slip off their wedding band just before entering a bar. Sneaky bastards.

Based on their personal experiences, many of my single girlfriends estimate that 95% of the good looking men in Atlanta are either gay or married. Regrettably, this percentage can’t be confirmed by the U.S. Census…apparently the “Good Looking Straight Single Men” category has yet to be added to city population counts. But I’m sure that almost every single gal reading this article has at one time or another pined after a fine-looking man for weeks, only to find out that he’s married, or even worse…gay. (Let’s face it—the odds of a married man eventually getting a divorce are much higher than a gay man switching teams mid-game.)

So, where are you Atlanta SSSMs (sexy, single, straight men)? Where have all the cowboys gone? (The single, heterosexual cowboys, that is. Not the “Brokeback Mountain” kind.)

Well, my friends and I have a few theories. We can only think of one cause for the good looking married men phenomena: we believe that all the most attractive Atlanta men were swiftly swept up by the same kind of overly eager, foaming-at-the-mouth women you see pummeling each other during those chaotic 50% off wedding gown sales.

Then there’s those unattainable, striking gay men. Not to stereotype, but gay men are typically extremely attractive. Why? Not necessarily because every homosexual man emerged from a superior gene pool—but because, much like women, they’ve learned to make the most of what they have. Generally gay men are meticulous groomers and fashion connoisseurs who are undaunted by hair highlights, body waxing or self tanner.

And it just so happens that there are a lot of these well put-together gay men in Atlanta—a whole lot. As a matter of fact, Atlanta is home to one of the largest gay populations in the United States. Don’t get me wrong, we love our gay population—they bring culture, diversity, cutting-edge fashion and a booming nightlife to our city. But these fine homosexual men can’t really help a single woman on the prowl…unless they happen to know a beautiful straight man they wouldn’t mind introducing you to. Of course, they might just be holding out for that hottie to come out of the closet…and if he does, there’s one less SSSM in Atlanta.

So, here’s my only advice to you single Atlanta gals who are searching for what many of you now believe to be the holy grail…a SSSM. First of all, try to see the potential in those somewhat average-looking, single heterosexual men. Maybe with a little TLC, a good eyebrow plucking and some fashion tips from your gay buddies, you could transform that average Joe into quite a looker. And if all else fails, consider taking a job that requires travel outside of Atlanta—a lot of it.

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