This personal story is over 30 years old, intended here to show how far we've come in the US, and where we don't want to return.
I was back in college for another degree, and one of my professors, a PhD just 2 years older than me, was one of the great femmy homos of all time. The kind I rarely see today, with faggy jewelry, clothing and even makeup, having swishy mannerisms and a slinky way of carrying his tall, slender frame, plus a Truman Capote voice that made people giggle. And the most competent professor I ever knew in a classroom.
My girlfriend in college struck up a friendship with him, and that was the only way I'd have any contact with him socially, since this was my period of extreme denial, when I believed I was fully straight with no use for gays. We three went out to restaurants a few times together at her insistence, where increasingly I began to see past his flamboyance and found the powerful intellect and the decent person within.
One night my girlfriend had to cancel our dinner engagement at the last moment, and neither of us was able to contact the professor to let him know. The last thing I wanted was to have dinner with him alone, and in public. I worried he'd make a pass at me, and that people in the restaurant might mistake me for his gay lover. But standing someone up wasn't an option in my book, so I met him there as scheduled.
Soon after being seated I began to have a sense that we were being observed by the others in the restaurant. Finally I asked him if it was just my imagination. No, he replied, he saw it, too. It happened to him all the time, and he was used to it, but we could leave if it bothered me.
Now it happens that I have a very bad defiant streak, and I found the other patrons' behavior an affront upon ME, for having insulted my companion. A kind of "the enemy of my friend is my enemy, too" attitude. And I replied to him that I would be honored to stay there with him, and soon began to take delight in returning the furtive glances of the others. And to hell with them if they thought us a gay couple, I wouldn't give them the pleasure of my discomfort. I found it strangely liberating.
He thanked me for the gesture afterwards, because he told me most other straight men would have left. We became real friends, and he never made any move on me (or else I was too naive to know it). We did all kinds of things together, with and without my girlfriend, like helped him relocate a few times, and I no longer worried about what others thought.
When I finally did come out 20 years later, he was one of the first I phoned with the news. He told me (in hindsight) that he always knew I was gay, but he didn't believe it was his right to interfere, especially as I was dating a woman who was also a friend of his. I wish he had.