Dear Vegas Males: It's Not Me; It's You

That's a rather egotistical title, isn't it?
But it's really how I feel. (For a grammar addict, I start a significant number of sentences in conjunctions and end a huge number in prepositions. I comfort myself in the knowledge that those fall under style, not grammar.)
I occasionally ponder my relationship status, and wonder why I'm single. My answer lately has been that I don't jive with Vegas guys. You might ask if I'm being geographically biased, but I'm not. I act the same, regardless of location. And yet, in every place except Vegas, I get hit on almost everyday. Cashiers love me. Random people I pass are enchanted. I tried to blame it on myself, say that I was awkward or mean or went to a woman's college, but those arguments really don't hold up when you compare my experiences anywhere except Vegas to those in Vegas.
I doubt that I suddenly get less attractive or my personality diminishes just because of locale. I suspect, rather, that Las Vegas tends to have the kind of men that don't like me, and that I don't like.
Okay, I'm a Republican. I don't ride a bike, for many reasons I will happily tell you if you ask, I don't gamble, smoke, or do drugs. I do drink, sometimes quite a bit. I've grown into my limbs, which out-sized me five years ago. I don't belong to any given clique. I sometimes dork out, but it tends to be when I'm drunk or I know it'll be appreciated, and I've been told that I'm so cute and happy when I do it that no one has the heart to tell me he has no idea what I'm talking about. I love fashion, but I'm not a fashionista. I switch between professional, teenager, preppy, business casual, hipster, name your style, depending on my mood on any given day. I'm very self-aware. I'm smart. I'm probably smarter than most people I know, but I don't care that much, as long as the people in my life can keep up or don't care. I read less than I like. We probably have common heroes, but not necessarily for the same reasons. It's a sad state events when you're trying to justify yourself to hipsters, because they're the closest you can get in your city to your ideal. But you make do with what you have.
I'm not sure why Vegas guys seem so reluctant to get to know me. They don't even know the myriad of reasons to hate me, and I promise you there are many. Maybe I don't pass some artificial test I'm unaware of. Are fake breasts necessary for attention here?
It seems only older men hit on me. And I don't mean 27. I mean 35+. I have friends who are dating guys in that range, and I'm happy for them, but it's not what I want. And the ones who are in my preferred age range tend to be not attractive to me, either physically or mentally.
Guys, just introduce yourselves to me. I don't bite, unless you're my sister. I'm good at politely declining, allowing you to believe the fault is mine. I can make excuses like you can't believe. But you won't approach me. And I don't try, because I know the pattern in this city. I can make the five guys in a party full of girls fall for me, but not a single Las Vegas guy.
I know there are good guys in Vegas. This is a generalization. I know that I'll find someone as soon as I move, but what's wrong with wanting someone here?
Why can't you hate me after meeting me?
Or learn that I'm okay with us not agreeing on things?
Or maybe you even like my views. But you'll never know until you try.