Rufus Wainwright comes from a long line of brilliant, queer boy crooners. There's Morrissey, Johnny Mathis all the way back to Cole Porter. Women love them even though we know that they'll never love us in quite the same way. They're dashing and witty and appear oh, so vulnerable. Why do we love them so?

All the girls in my high school loved Morrissey. "I won't share you," he sang and even though he wasn't out of the closet, rumours of his homosexuality were never denied. Yet, my morose girlfriends felt as though he sang to them. 'He's so sensitive,' they would swoon. And especially while in high school where the jocks might rule, a suffering boy is extremely attractive. You feel like he could be happy if he was with you. One friend once said, 'I think Morrissey and I would understand each other.' How she thought that after hearing, "Girlfriend In A Coma," I have no idea.

Johnny Mathis is from my mother's era. His velvet, romantic voice was the soundtrack to her dreams. Young boys and girls in the '50s slow danced to "Chances Are." "Prelude To A Kiss" was indeed just that. My mother, her sister and her girlfriends sat glued to the TV set to catch the balladeer. He seemed to sing all the things they thought love should be.

The epitome of the queer crooner is Cole Porter. Composer of hundreds of songs and scores of musicals, Cole Porter was a scene stealer well-sought out. His homosexual dalliances were well known, but that didn't inhibit his marriage (albeit sexless) in 1919 to wealthy American divorcee Linda Thomas. His magic was his way with words. Double entendre, barely disguised sexuality, Porter pushed the envelope, causing jaws to drop and toes to tap. His music continues on the play list of any knowledgable swing or jazz band.

Straight boys can seem so foreign. They care about things that seem pointless to care about, whether it be cars, sports, or something else they analyze to minutia. But Cole, Johnny and Rufus aren't like that. They look to the interior life that young girls write about in their diaries. The words our gay crooners sing are clever, or charming or terribly sad, but they always speak to the bittersweet truth that is real emotion.

Renée, Web Queen

Adriana Salvia -- Segment Producer (To keep myself thinking young)

It's always so much fun to interview someone when you're a fan. And I would consider myself a fan of Rufus Wainwright's. But let me clarify something. I am not one of those women who's looking to convert Wainwright to straight. I am simply a lover of music who appreciates the artistic contribution he's been making to the world.

But what is it with all those straight women who want to change Rufus? This question really applies to Rufus more than any gay guy I've ever heard about since being immersed in this community.

It raises the question to me about what women actually see when they look at men, as far as sexual preference goes. Does Rufus perhaps give off a vibe of not being entirely straight? He did actually say in his interview that the time could come when he just won't be interested in being gay anymore. More specifically he says, "I've left myself lots of room in case I want to go back into the closet." Not that I think this is his own internalized homophobia speaking. I think it's more about Rufus just not being as gay as other guys are. And I believe that women sense this and that's why some of these straight chicks think they stand a chance with Rufus. After all, as hot as say, Rupert Everett is, there's never any mention about 'Gee, I wish he was straight'. Not in my experience. I think the whole vibe for Rupert IS gay, through and through. But not Rufus.

I would be sinterested in hearing from women who've met gay guys who they believe were and are "convertible". What is it about these guys that makes you believe you can change who they are and who they want to do?

Watch the segment with Rufus. Note the complete character differences; from the awkwardness of the interview to the masterful performance. This paradox allows Rufus to truly embody the word 'artist'.

Enjoy!