Fine, retracted.
I want to add that even though Fruitbat got modded, there was/is a controversial objectification angle to my quasi confessional. Sorry if that whole thing was a hijack, I just didn’t want to stand accused of more than that of which I am guilty(?).
In my 20s, I spent a few years living in developing countries where my European features made me ‘attractive’; I use the quotes as I am not sure I this was purely physical, so much as my physical aesthetic (white skin, blue eyes) indicating a promising socioeconomic future to a successful suitor. Women (and men, to a lesser extent) would go some way out of their way flirt and make their interest in me known - and these were mostly strangers… Sounds idyllic, but I *hated *it.
I think this was because - and I realise I am in danger of having ‘Check your privilege!’ and ‘First World Problems!’ hurled at me from a great height here - I felt objectified. The implied message, to me at least, was ‘Ooh - westerner - you have an EU passport, therefore I am attracted to you…’. I was having no value assigned to me as a person; rather, I was simply a one-dimensional symbol of prosperity. They weren’t interested in me, they were into what they could potentially get from me
With age, I realise I was perhaps overthinking it. I could have had a lot more fun in my 20s…
If my husband were to tell me this, my response would be 4) WTF? Are you and your co-workers having a dick-measuring contest using your SO’s as proxies for your masculine worth? If I go back to the way I was, will you feel like a loser? Will your ego take a hit?
I don’t really relate to feeling creepy about looking attractive, but I tend to be fairly oblivious (and nowadays, very indifferent) to the male gaze when I’m out in public. But if I were to experience a sudden change in how people perceived my attractiveness, it would probably be a little unsettling to me.
(I"m sure I’ll be accused of sneak bragging here)
I once invited my GF to join me for happy hour after work. She doesn’t typically like going to smokey bars, but I knew she was currious to meet my fellow coworkers, so I invited her to come along.
After meeting all my coworkers, one of my male coworkers pulled me aside to tell me how beautiful my GF was. He then added I just scored a lot of “respect” points with him.
Well gee, so glad to know all I had to do to earn your respect was to have a “hot” GF. :dubious:
Not all you have to do. Doing your job, not being a douche count to. But yes, I respect the opinion of other people: I’m not a person who thinks I can’t learn from other people: If your GF is “hot”, it means she had a lot of options, she knows you better than I do, and she choose you. Respect.
It works both ways…
My self, I was taking a hot, intelligent, educated insecure young woman to a social activity, and I mentioned that just for a moment, when we came in, before they thought about it, my friends were going to think she was with me, and I was going to enjoy that moment.
As we came through the door and were greeted, she spilled out “I’m not his girl friend”.
She’d reacted to it too. I don’t think she meant to be rude, but being associated with me would have -reduced- the respect those strangers had for her, just for a moment, before they thought about it.
PS: I’m old enough and ugly enough now that young women sometimes don’t feel threatened by me, and treat me as a person, rather than cold-shoulder me. That, I would miss if I suddenly became younger and more attractive.
I’m sitting on the Queens-bound W train reading my book. It’s 5:21pm on a work day. I look up, as I very frequently do, to glance at the people sitting and standing around me because I’m a member of the human race and prefer to be engaged to some small degree in the physical world around me. I see a woman standing 4 feet away.
I proceed to:
A) Look at her eyes because that connotes a lack of interest in her physical presence and so removes any creep factor from my glance. She sees me looking at her eyes/ face and is disgusted that I’m looking at her eyes/face.
B) Glance at her body. I’m a heterosexual male. I look at people’s bodies. I do it rapidly and with discretion but no way will I lie and say I don’t glance at the people around me. I also look at men’s bodies. So, I glance at her body and not her eyes. I’m a creep for looking.
C) I stare at the filthy subway floor, never making eye contact, never looking at the people around me. Now, in NYC that’s considered by some to be the very epitome of fine subway manners. ( Except for the 2nd Avenue Subway. Because, you know, the Upper East Side… 
) I consider staring at the floor on a very crowded subway train to be absolute lunacy. I’m surrounded by my fellow human beings. Fuck-all do I care if they’re male, female, black, white, yellow, brown, purple, green.
I am supposed to stare at the floor so that my gaze at people is not misinterpreted or found to be lacking, or annoying, or cloying, or whatevering? Really. I look at people around me. I notice the engagement ring on the woman whose skin is so deep black that it’s almost purple and the diamond is just so fucking perfect resting there on her finger. I look at the opal earrings shimmering their rainbow tease of colors hidding in the teal hair dye of the 22 year old a few feet away. ( Teal is, apparently, quite the thing these days around NYC. ) I look at the tattered Timberlands on the grizzled guy who at 51 looks both 32 ( very fit ) and 67 ( beat up body with grayed hair ) who is coming home from the construction site.
I look. I’m a visual human being. Apparently I am supposed to stare at the filthy subway car floor.
And I refuse. Not because I want to disobey some rules. Not because I am exercising my white male privilege. But because I LOOK AT PEOPLE AROUND ME.
I don’t think this makes me any more than a human being on this planet, open to connecting with other human beings.
Because you know what? Now and then I make eye contact with someone who drops the armor and lets the warmth out and for a second we’re just two people being aware of one another on the train. Now and then I see a fashion statement that’s bold and ballsy and angry and edgy and I’m respectful of the effort and appreciative of the statement.
Fuck man, it’s not about being creepy at someone. It’s about sharing the space and being open to a smidgen of human connection.
Just a smidgen.
Here’s why I do it. Here’s really why. Because there have been days when I’ve found myself utterly crushed and bereft and on the subway and surrounded by humanity. And sometimes a glance is a gift.
About 2 months ago I was standing at the 59/Lex stop waiting for my train. The wrong train pulled in and as it pulled in, I saw a woman sitting on the seat, facing forwards ( the R trains still have seats that face forwards as well as inwards ). She was …she was bereft. Her eyes were so filled with pain, and her face was pale. Saw it as soon as the train slowed to a stop. I looked at her with as much love for another human being as I could present in my eyes and on my face because at that moment, it was just what she needed.
She looked over at me, and slowly smiled. And wiped her eyes. And nodded at me as the train pulled out. I smiled and nodded back. Connection offered freely, accepted same.
I patently refuse to cloister myself in a city where the sidewalks, elevators, escalators, hallways and subways are seething with humanity.
I’m a 54 year-old fat graying white guy with zero attractibility. And the awareness that looks don’t count for much when you are looking another human being in the eyes.
If that makes me a creep instead of a human being, well. Ain’t that something.
What’s the difference between “looking” and “leering”? Well, only unattractive men leer. 
I think the real answer is: Don’t get caught.
The other day, I walked into a room just as this lady was bending over to pick something up off the floor. She was wearing a low cut shirt, and her cleavage was just sort of out there.
So naturally, my eyes just sort of zeroed in. And I swear, it took me all of 1.5 seconds to realize what I was doing and averted my eyes elsewhere. But still, that was 1.5 seconds too long, because as she rose back up, I could tell by the (micro) expression on her face, she knew where my eyes had been.
She was nice though, and never said anything.
Still, I felt like such a creep.