I’m sitting on the metro and the cutest guy I think I’ve ever seen is sitting across from me. I so badly want to look up and make eye contact. I’ve tried a few times to casually look around, so that it’s not obvious that he’s what I’m looking at. I feel him look at me and slowly start to look up, as though I just noticed he was sitting there. We never completely make eye-contact. And then
The train stops and he gets off.
But we’re moving again and a woman sits across from me now. She stares at the ground. I think she feels me looking at her, but she pretends not to notice. She has loose clothes, messy hair. She could be anyone. She could be anywhere. But she’s sitting across from me on the metro. And she won’t look at me. And I don’t know why. And then
The train stops and she gets off.
But a man gets on. He’s small. He has gray, wispy hair. He passes out yellow cards that have English written on one side and french written on the other. The cards say he has children. That he has no job. They say he needs money. That he is hungry. I’ve seen this man 3 times before, and I struggle to look at him. I sheepishly accept the card, and don’t know what to do when he comes back for it. I think to myself that I should give him something, but I wonder why I’ve seen him so many times. And why his cards are always fresh.
Without speaking, he takes the card from my knee where I’ve set it. He doesn’t look at me like he did last time. He doesn’t tap me or wait for me to hand it to him. Without a word, he picks it up, and he walks off, and as I watch him go out of the corner of my eye, I wonder where my heart has gone.
I tell myself it’s because I can’t give money to every homeless person I pass. I tell myself it’s normal. That each time I see him, it’s normal.
But I remember the time he looked at me. Without saying a word, he implored me. And that one time, the time I truly didn’t have my wallet, I felt so much sorrow I wished I had, and found myself apologizing.
I couldn’t meet his eyes because I was nervous. She couldn’t meet my eyes because she wasn’t comfortable. I couldn’t meet his eyes because I felt my shame.
These are the windows, here are the blinds. I close them. I wait, I feel nothing and everything, but I don’t want them to see. So I look down. I look away. And then
The train stops and I get off.
The Transition Artist 
just read some French guys blog about a beautiful girl on train with ugly shoes and fringy sweater he couldn’t look in the eye.- uncle donnie
I was told not to make eye contact when I was in France — that it’s not part of their culture to look strangers in the eye in public places. To them it implies that you are seeking a “relationship”. For a married person is would mean interest in an extra marital affair. Isn’t that sad… Eye contact can be misconstrued? I agree that our eyes are windows to our soul. That is how you see when people are truly hurting. It’s a big world & very different from the one you left behind. Keep your blinds slightly tilted until you know it’s safe to peek! You’ll know when because you are good at reading body language. I hope that cute guy shows up on your train again. Hugs!
It’s no different in France than the USA. There is never anything wrong with looking people in the eyes. It has nothing to do with whether someone is seeking “a relationship”. Always be you, and be proud. Hold your head up; and look people straight in the eye. We all should.
I like mbrownslp’s reply to you. Your piece was so moving and is universal. You describe life as it is today for everyone, but few of us could express our innermost thoughts so candidly.
Kate, I think your Uncle Alfie impersonated Uncle Donnie! You know that’s something Alfie would say… Take care. xoxoxo