Eye flirting

On November 12, I wrote about an odd encounter that I had at Kaldi's coffee house. The barista and I had a little tet-a-tete via visual communication.

After I posted the story on my blog, my friend Josh informed me that I had just experienced the art of "eye flirting."

"Eye flirting?" I asked. "Is that really what its called?"

"I don't know," he said. "But that's what I'm calling it now. Eye contact is a good thing. He was looking at you; that means he's interested. If you're interested in him, you eye flirt back to let him know. Then it's up to him to step up and talk to you."

Last year I was at a party with a friend. She left the dance floor to get something to drink. twenty minutes later I found her standing by the wall talking to a guy. They appeared to be in intimate conversation, and she had a smile on her face.

"Good for her!" I thought.

After the party I asked her about the conversation.

"It was weird," she said.

"What do you mean? He seems like a nice guy."

"Well, the whole time he just kept eye contacting me."

"Eye contacting you?"


"Yea, you know, when a guy is like looking at you really hard and trying to like gaze into your eyes. It just makes things really awkward."

"Maybe it means he's interested in you."

"Well maybe I just wanted to have a normal conversation without being eye contacted."



A little over a month has past since my experience at Kaldi's and my conversation with Josh; since then, I have tested out the art of eye flirting a few times--the most recent of which happened tonight:

I was walking out of the candlelight service at church. A herd of people shuffled between me and my mom so I stopped. A guy, who appeared to be around my age, stopped right in front of me. I looked at him with no intention of making eye contact, but he was already looking at me, and...it happened, our eyes locked.

I got confused and glancedto the right, then looked back--his eyes were still there--I looked at the ceiling, then back again. I think we may have smiled at each other. Then I looked at the ground and walked away.

What the heck are you supposed to do in a situation like that?

A couple nights ago I was at the piano bar with my friend Michelle. We were standing up, laughing at people singing karaoke when a cute guy in a camouflage hat (yes, I felt like I was back in Tennessee for a moment) turned around and looked at me.

Eye contact.

I looked away. So did he. Then we both looked back and I smiled.

"Hi," I said.

"Hey," he replied. Then he walked over and stood beside me.

The rest of our conversation isn't worth recording. He didn't have much to say. My one successful attempt at eye flirting turned out to be worthy of the fail blog.

I could continue giving you snippets and stories of my eye flirting escapades, but I think that would eventually bore you. I have yet to nail down the proper technique of eye flirting. In all honesty, I think its just freakin' awkward.

If you ask me, I think all you guys should just suck it up and go talk to whatever girl you're interested in. And ladies, be nice to the men. Maybe then they wouldn't be so afraid to say hi. Be approachable, then you can bypass the kooky concept of eye flirting.

At least this time I noticed...

Okay....I did it again! I reeeeaaaaallly tried not to, but I did it again!

After our weekly meeting at Campus Crusade tonight, I went to Kaldi's to meet a friend for coffee. I got there a few minutes before he did (yes...I said he, but don't read into it. he is on my staff team and we were meeting to discuss staff related things) so I decided to order a chai latte while I waited (yumm....i've been waiting for an excuse to indulge in one of those!)

So I walk up to the counter and no one is around. Whatever, I'm in no hurry. I don't want to sit at a table by myself anyway. I stand there patiently and pretend to look at the menu. I'm pretending because I already know what I want.

A couple minutes pass. I hear some rucus in the kitchen, but still see no one. A guy in a charcol t-shirt walks out of the kitchen, but quickly passes through another door. I know he had to have seen me. Why won't he come take my order!?!

A poofy haired lady walks up behind me. I see her staring at the menu in my perephrial vision. Maybe she's just pretending as well. I tap my debit card on the counter, lean to my left to peer into the kitchen (no more noise, no more people), then turn to my right to smile at this lady.

"Have you been helped yet?" she asks.

"No," I say. "I think they need a bell."

I finish my statement just as the guy in the charcol t-shirt walks up to the register. I expect him to be abrupt, to exude the irritated attitude of a night time barista, loathing the customers that come in at 10:05, 55mintues before closing, 5minutes past clean up. However, I'm met with a smile and a chipper, "Hey! What can I get for you?"

I take my eyes off his charcol t-shirt and meet his smirking gaze, long enough to say, "ummm...yea! Can I get a tall chai latte?"

I look at the register as he rings me up, $3.05.

"That'll be three dollars and five cents!" he says.

I lift my eyes as I hand him the debit card and notice that his gaze has not stopped grinning, nor has it stopped focusing on me. Our eyes lock for just a second and I notice his sideways smirk broadens to a smile.

"Can you sign this please?" he asks.

"Ummm...sure!" I say and look down at the reciept. I fumble for the pen that is lying on the counter and scrawl my signature on the paper. Oh crap! The pen doesn't work.

I set it down and scan the counter for another one...I know that they keep their pens in a tiny, metal flower pot.

"Oh," he says. "I guess that's why that one was laying over there." And he hands me another pen. I don't look up until I'm finished writing.

"Ha. Yea," I hesitate to look at him. "Here ya go." I hand him the reciept, let my eyes drift towards his, then dart them back to the counter.

"I'll have that right out for ya," he says and my eyes creep back up. I see him still smiling, still ogling, and I look away again.

"Oh," I say with a timid grin. "Okay!" One sideways glance, and I meet his eyes one more time then walk away.

What is going on? Is that guy really trying to make eye contact with me? I'm so stupid. He's doing no such thing.

He calls my name over the intercom a few minutes later. I stand and begin the trek to my long awaited latte.

He's looking at me--standing directly behind my drink, I can't deny it, but I can't return the favor.

Look at him! No don't! He's trying to smile at you. No he's not, stop reading into things. Stop ignoring things.

The schitzophrenic battle ensues in my mind and continues as I struggle to secure the lid on my tea.

"Tall chai latte?" I hear him ask, and I tear my eyes off the cup long enough to smile and say yes. His eyes try to pull me in.

I press the lid, tug my eyes back to the cup, and turn to walk away. But his gaze is like a magnet--and it entices my eyes to look at him once more.

He has really good hair! Oh my gosh...he is totally trying to make eye contact with you! Walk away!

I walk towards my table. One more look. Contact. Only a moment. I see his smile and giggle inside.

What is going on?

I sit at my table and sip my latte.

Oh man, Rachel. You did it again. Stop ignoring the signs!

At least this time I noticed = /