Strangers passing in the street
By chance two separate glances meet
—Echoes, Pink Floyd
A man’s eyes are different than a woman’s.
His eyes watch her figure. And if he’s truly interested, his eyes gaze deeply into hers.
For a woman, as vain as it sounds, I find that women watch men as their men watch them. Women love to be adored. And men love to gaze upon women.
It’s a cycle, not one I claim to understand. No, I don’t understand at all.
What’s more is that I do not understand what it takes to bring a man to the point of pursuit.
What is it that turns his mere interest into a longing, a longing that cannot be ignored and one he must answer?
The woman at the grocery story. The gas station. The teacher, or banker. What is it that ignites a man’s heart to pursue? I may never know.
