Lords and Ladies

The very first time my friends dragged me to a nightclub I decided two things:
1. I am not coming back here.
2. I am a freak magnet. (Like poor Ginger).

One of the first people I met was an individual who introduced himself as "Lord Dimitry." He admitted Dimitry was not his real name, but he thought it sounded cool. I suppose, if you are a naive little 14 year old who worshiped Ann Rice you could be excused for saying things like "I am Count Mordred and I am 400 years old! Wanna come back to my crypt of doom?" But one is supposed to outgrow this phase. Please, when you're balding (with greasy stringy hair) it's not cool, fun or attractive to tell strange girls to call you "Lord" anything. The genuinely spooky individuals are sniggering at you, Dimitry.

I spent the evening clinging to my friends like dryer lint on a screen, and using them as a human shield. It did not work.

The next person I "met" was particularly determined and shoved himself into our circle and extended his hand towards me. I found this rather rude. Really, if you want to talk to a girl, don't offend her by treating her friends like they don't exist. Furthermore, his appearance creeped me out. He had long hair and was wearing an androgynous blouse, and there was something unnatural about the color and texture of his skin. Perhaps he was simply rather pale, but I could not shake the feeling he was wearing foundation. I discussed this with my friends later and we could not decide whether he was an amateur transvestite, or just a really bad goth. I chose the former, because it sounded funnier.

He said, "Hi, I'm Amateur Tranny. What's your name?"

I looked at his hand, then looked at him, and said, "I don't touch." I then gave him the look that normally makes people flee in terror. However, I underestimated his ability to see the silver lining in every cloud.

Amateur Tranny smiled and said, "Oh! Do you like girls?"

I wasn't sure what this meant:
1. "I'm a straight guy but it'll protect my ego if I assume you're rejecting me because you're a lesbian."
2. "I'm a stereotypical straight man who likes imagining lesbians doing lesbian things. Please say you like girls because it'll turn me on."
3. "I'm a tranny! Love me! Me!"

I weighed my options and said, with as straight a face as I could muster at the moment, "I'm a misanthrope."

This was not the response he was looking for. He said "oh" with a surprised look, then turned away. I sighed with relief and had no more awkward encounters with him, except for when I stumbled upon him sitting on the staircase with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

This was also the same night a couple approached me for a threesome.

Should I be flattered or creeped out that both men and women (and those in between) find me attractive?

And FYI, not that it should matter: I was wearing an ankle-length skirt, a baggy blouse and a coat I dared not remove the entire evening. Perhaps this was misinterpreted as "Oooh, I'm mysterious. Come hit on me."