So obviously everyone is dying to know how it went when I returned to the Walmart optometry shop to pick up the glasses I ordered. Who helped Ian try his new glasses on? Was she hot? What inappropriate thoughts did he struggle with while seated across from her?
Well, it turns out there was a guy on duty when I showed up. Perfectly nice guy. I think he had a close-trimmed beard, maybe sort of reddish-brown hair? He put forward a much more personable demeanor than the female optician who helped me order the glasses the other day. In the end I thanked him or he thanked me, one of us said, "Have a great evening!" and the other one said, "You too!"
In other words, it was one of those absolutely forgettable moments of interaction that we all experience daily or at the very least weekly. Both of us, I think, sincerely meant the pleasantries we exchanged as we parted, but they were nonetheless pre-programmed and formulaic. I remember less of what he said or looked like and more that he disappeared into the back room for an exasperating length of time in order to reform the earpieces on my glasses.
Thus, because my male instincts put no time or effort into assessing him for his mating potential, he has already started to fade from my mind. Whereas the receptionist, the optometrist, and the first optician all remain firmly fixed there -- not just as pretty faces or bodies, but as personalities, as people.
I'm a strange person. Maybe other men are not this way. But when biology urges me to look at a woman, it does not cause me to depersonalize her. It causes me to process her unique facets more deeply, remember her longer, and wonder more about what's going on in her head than would be the case if I felt no tug to look, but merely passed by without ever contemplating her individuality.
I do not look in order to lessen; I look in order to appreciate and to learn.
At some point I'm going to write a post about why men should not indulge their urges to ogle. But that post is not going to equate ogling with objectification or exploitation, because in my personal experience it does neither of those things. Speaking only for myself, it is a yearning for connection that arises from sexual instinct but is not merely sexual.
If you want to criticize me for ignoring someone's personhood, you have to criticize me more for the nice-but-quickly-forgotten bearded guy this evening than for the three women I described earlier in the week.
Sorry, bearded guy. Now I feel bad about not looking at your name tag and at least knowing who you were.
Not all that bad, though. After all, you did make me wait an awfully long time while you bent those earpieces.
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