Sweet and bitter at the same time:
I was at an afternoon soccer game watching a bunch of my friends play; I quit the team a while ago when I couldn't abide being counted as one of the "men" on the team anymore. There was a woman new to the team playing, and her young daughter, maybe three years old, was on the sidelines being taken care of by the mom's friend.
After I had been there awhile, she ran up to me and a woman who plays on the team and grabbed us by our hands and started talking to us about her mom and how she was playing. Then she looked at me and asked (in one of those difficult-to-decipher kid's voices) why I was a boy and wearing a shirt with flowers on it. Mind you, it's just a plain gray tee shir with some random geometric designs, a little bit girly, but not really, and yes, part of the designs include stencils of roses silkscreened black.
My friend figured out what she was asking and explained, "She has roses on her shirt, just like you have daisies on your dress"
And then the girl decided that it was more important to argue about the distinction betweeen roses and daisies than between boys and girls.
It was strange; for a minute it seemed like I was just another woman to her, and then all of a sudden I wasn't, and then she didn't care. I can't say it didn't sting a little, though, even if it wasn't exactly unexpected.