I am looking. Looking for that beautiful grey warm area, when people’s eyes meet and something new is exchanged. One particular person I could always count on for deep eyeful meaning has recently left New York and is – as I write this, I believe – on his way to the farthest reaches of the Pacific Northwest. But the all-encompassing nature I crave from a look was only ever on the fringe with this departed friend. Now it has arrived at the forefront and become incredibly necessary.
It has been a long time since I’ve shared that particular knowing glance with someone. This glance I speak of is not merely a promise of sexual intimacy or a mutual recognition of interest. It is something so deep that wars are fought over it, epic poems are written about it, people die to achieve it. It is particular to the participants. It connects the head, heart, and body. It transports. It is a statement without words.
It is why we watch theatre, why we DVR good television dramas. We hope to see a rich moment, full and deep, and yet tender and incongruously simple at the same time. I am not jealous of other people and their relationships, I am jealous of these looks.
After one has been single for a while, the question emerges about loneliness. And sure, I miss a body beside me as I sleep. Yes, I miss a person rubbing my feet in front of the TV, knowing what comments I’ll make about something we’re watching before I open my mouth. Of course I want someone as a touchstone to my day and someone to help guide along his own path. But most of all I want to exchange this look.
A look that is unique, every time. A look that encompasses hope, desire, love, lust, admiration, support, questioning, wondering, faith, gratitude, and beguilement. I know I am able to bestow that look. I know I am able to receive it. Now I must wait, patiently, for it. I am… looking.
