For example, one of the more popular stereotypes that homosexuals usually emulate or perform as is distressingly similar to the type of man that I find most attractive: partially muscular, unshaven, slightly older man either in uniform or performing some traditional masculine job. You don't have to look very hard in gay visual, written, or 'performance' art to find attractive men that fit that description to a tee, but are also faggots.
My first thought when I realized this was remembering that study that said people's subconscious brains have the same disgust reaction to observing two men kiss as they do to observing maggots. So obviously if I happened across an overt male kiss then my reaction is logical. The part that is less explainable though is that sometimes I'll still have this gut reaction if it's a man portrayed alone or even with a woman. Part of it is probably that 'lamestream media' and Hollywood are allergic to presenting healthy heterosexual morally upstanding men in a positive light (or in any capacity for that matter) so most of the men I see portrayed are sissy soyboy male feminist types that I wouldn't trust as far as I could throw them. I think the other part of it though may be that gay men, specifically masculine ones, have a certain visual language they use to signal to each other that they are homosexual that comes across as a hyper-amplified caricatures of masculinity. There's the obvious examples of the leather/latex bondage gear being worn out in public, but even when they are trying the seem 'normal' there's this miasma and posturing of unchecked male lust/desire that sets off alarms bells in my head like having to hike through an overgrown path or navigate an unfamiliar city.
A reverse example of this that I think would be helpful for illustrating my point are my experiences in similarly overtly masculine environments that were evidently manly but not homosexual (although the LGBT freaks are trying to turn every male hobby gay so your mileage may vary). Many times I have visited a mechanics' shop, or a locksmith, or some other male-oriented profession where though I may have felt uncomfortable, I never felt threatened, because the tension I was experiencing was as a normal feminine woman being juxtaposed with a masculine men's space NOT an undesirable outsider interfering with an exclusive club. Ironically enough the one time I remember as being uncomfortable in a shop like this was when I took my car in to get the oil changed and some skeletal tranny with fried hair, chipped nails, fingerless fishnet gloves, and a pronoun pin serviced my vehicle.
