There comes a time in every girl’s life, or at least, in the TV movie version of every woman’s life, when her mom and dad sit her down and tell her the “facts of life” – the primary fact of life – being that babies aren’t deposited by birds. Because of my parents’ emphasis on sexual education, I felt fully prepared for the wild world of college. Just in case I forgot any of the lessons they taught me, my mom thankfully reminds me on visits home, that when I am with a guy and we “you know, hug and kiss each other and stuff,” that I “make sure he wears a condom.” What my parents didn’t prepare me for was the well-known but rarely discussed phenomenon that I like to call “eye sex.” Some people call this “making eyes” at someone you find attractive, often across a lecture hall, the library, a caf, an elevator or any other place where someone attractive is located, but I think this is a misnomer. How do you “make” your eyes at anybody? You have sex with your eyes. So, that’s what it is – “eye sex.”
When I was younger, I used to have “eye sex” all the time, mostly because I was too intimidated to talk to men. Then, during my freshman year in college, I was having “eye sex” with a guy in one of my classes, and let me tell you, it was some of the hottest “eye sex” this world has ever seen – complete with hair tosses and sultry stares. Not only was it hot, it gave me something to do besides playing boxes to pass the time during the incredibly boring lecture. Then, something appalling happened. I looked up at my eye partner, only to find him staring at me with the most perverted look I have ever seen. I could have sworn I heard his perverted laugh, like a creepy old man with an overdose of Viagra. What was worse, his hands had disappeared beneath the table, and I had no idea when they were reemerging. “Oh my god!” I thought. “He’s a total eye pervert!” After that incident, I swore off “eye sex.”
That is, until now. In London, I can’t help but have “eye sex.” There are hot men everywhere, and it’s driving me insane. These men, all have accents – British accents! The only logical thing I could do was revert to old habits. Ladies and gentlemen, Leah Kaminsky has not only resumed her “eye sex” habits, but she is now a total eye whore. If I could wear an eye condom I would, but I don’t think people would want to have “eye sex” with me if I wore an eye condom.
By far my favorite “eye sex” experience I’ve had in London took place in a caf. I ordered tea and sat down to write, when I noticed a dark, mysterious man clouded in smoke in the corner. He looked at me, I looked at him, I looked away – rinse, wash, repeat – until he slid into the chair next to me and asked what I was writing. The smoke that had enveloped him so mysteriously had been emanating from a pipe, and he wore a vest and a hat that looked just like the one that Sherlock Holmes sported. To my disappointment, I quickly learned that he truly was interested in what I was writing – he had a wife and was from Texas. However, we ended up having a fascinating conversation about Jesus, and although that didn’t make up for a good dose of passionate “eye sex,” at least I had a two-hour long Jesus conversation in London with a man from Texas that looked like Sherlock Holmes. Plus, watching all of my friends have passionate hookups here in London – while I remained completely unwanted – hadn’t been great for my confidence, and the Sherlock-Jesus interaction made me confident once again.
In fact, the very next night, I talked to two very attractive young men, but unfortunately, I was smashed on two and a half glasses of red wine and ended up running off to pee. Later that night, I flirted with a bartender, and then had to pee again and ran off. A girl that’s always in the bathroom isn’t all that attractive.
Kaminsky can be reached at lkaminsky@campustimes.org.
