People avoid eye contact when something revealing happens to them—even if it’s beautiful. It’s as if we’re at a party. You’re eating guacamole and flirting confidently. Without warning, your clothes disappear. Everyone gets a good look. Even if you’ve told everyone about the birthmark on your hip. Even if you’re cool with Burning Man. Doesn’t matter.
You’ll avoid eye contact with everyone there. Maybe for a few days. Maybe forever.
My best friend and I saw Cats in New York when we were 17. I knew he was messy-crying during Memory and trying to be quiet about it. He knew I was doing the same.
On the subway after the show, we were über cool. Idaho boys trying to be artists, trying to blend in, trying to look like we belonged.
We never made eye contact again.