Let’s Make Eye Contact

Not long ago I made eye contact with Mark.

I continue to walk around the shoreline, next to a parking lot, past a boat ramp. Now I'm following some concrete steps that tier the area where the land meets the water. I'm also talking out loud to myself in an English accent. It's fun.

I notice that there's an Asian girl sitting on the steps as I walk past her. I sit a ways down and contemplate approaching her. I have only approached one Asian person so far. But, before I decide to go over to her, I look in her direction and she's walking away. I let her go.

I sit a while longer. There's a middle eastern (looking) family approaching: a man, a woman, and a child in a stroller. They sit on a bench a little ways away. I consider asking the man. "Because it might be offensive/inappropriate for me to approach and ask the woman," I think to myself.

(I feel so racist.)

I do not approach them. A little while later, they walk away.

It's getting dark and I want to walk a little farther down the coast before heading back to my car. I get up, walk farther, and when I get to the point where I know it's time to head back, I see a girl sitting on a concrete wall, looking out over the water, having a cigarette.

Bingo.

This afternoon I'm at the beach, and I figure this is a good place to make some eye contact.

As I am walking along the water I notice a fellow sitting on the ground, his back against a log, facing the ocean.

I walk back towards him, step up on a log, and make a small jump down.

What follows is the most succinct non-rejection so far:

Me: Hi.

Pause. He looks up from his writing.

Me: I'm doing an experiment. Every day I ask a stranger to make eye contact with me for 60 seconds. Is this something you'd be willing to do with me?

Mark: OK.

Me: Here's how it works. I have this timer set for 60 seconds. When I start it, we'll make eye contact, not look away, and not talk. Still willing to do it?

Mark: Sure.

Me: OK. Let's start.

I sit down and start the timer. We commence eye contact.

I feel relaxed and at ease. He is really focused. He seems relaxed, too, yet... Protective. I am not sure. He's a willing participant for sure, and present, but I don't know what's going on with him. He doesn't seem enthusiastic, yet he consented. I cannot tell what's in his eyes, in his mind, in his heart. Preoccupation? Worry? Sadness? I can't read him.

The timer beeps.

Me: That's it. I'm Josh.

Mark: Mark.

We shake hands.

Me: I'm going to give you a leave-behind. I write about my experiences on this blog.

I hand him a scrap of paper with the URL written on it.

Me: The last thing I ask participants is if I may use their first name and photograph on my blog. Is that OK with you?

Mark: Sure.

Me: Here we go.

I take his picture.

Me: Look OK?

I show it to him.

Mark: Sure.

Me: Cool. Anything else before I disappear?

Mark: No.

He seems amused, but remains serious.

Me: OK. Great day. Be well.

I hop back over the log and walk down the beach.

Jaclynn and I are hanging out today. We have some beers, and are stopping at a coffee shop for espresso before dinner.

This will be my first eye contact during which I am not sober.

While we're waiting for our drinks, I scope out the patrons of the shop, looking for my next participant. I see a girl sitting at a nearby table. I point to her and tell Jaclynn that she's the one.

My intention is to approach her after we have our drinks, so we continue to wait and talk. Suddenly, the girl at the table is standing up and walking towards me. She says that she heard me say something about beards, and shows me what she has just pulled up on her phone: some kind of beard picture.

I'm not sure exactly what I say. Probably something like "you got to me before I got to you!" and I tell her to sit down because we're going to do an experiment.

I give her the pitch. She consents. She asks why we're doing it. I tell her we'll talk about it after.

We begin making eye contact. Immediately I feel relaxed and at ease. Making eye contact with her is easy and pleasant. I like looking at her eyes. We smile.

The timer beeps. For the first time, I ask my participant what they felt during the eye contact. She tells me she felt very relaxed.

Jaclynn comes over with our espressos and pulls up a chair. I address her earlier question ("why"?) and talk about what motivates the experiment. I ask if I can use her name and photograph on the blog, an she says "yes!" We exchange names. Her name is Bronwyn. We start chatting. Bronwyn's friend comes over and joins us. Her name is Alexis. We talk for a while longer. This is the longest post-experiment conversation I've had with a LMEC stranger, and it's great!

Before we forget, I take Bronwyn's photograph.

Instead of giving her the standard LMEC leave-behind (I ran out of pre-made cards a few days ago) I tell her the blog URL and she writes it down in her notebook.

I give her my number and tell her I'd like to hang out again. This is another first for a LMEC interaction.

Jaclynn and I are hungry, so we get up to leave. I exchange hugs with Alexis and Bronwyn and we head out into the night.

This one bends the rules.

I have been trying to find a particular coffee shop near my office. I think I know where it is, but two times I've looked for it and two times I haven't found it. Today, before I start work, I am going to it.

I bring my timer with me, because that's what I do now. I'm not intending to make eye contact with someone on this outing, but you never know. I like to always be prepared.

Turns out I've walked right passed it on both previous attempts. I knew exactly where it was, I just didn't see the sign.

So I go in, order an Americano, and sit at the bar by the window. I consider asking the woman to my right, but don't decide to do it, and she leaves. I consider asking the man who is sitting outside the window, but don't, and he leaves. So I just relax and don't intend to ask anyone.

A woman approaches the seat to my right and compliments my hair. I start talking with her, and her lunch companion joins us.

Their names are Catherine and Jeff.

We have a lovely conversation about all kinds of interesting topics.

Here is where I bend the rules. I want to make eye contact with Jeff. (I'm interested in making eye contact with Catherine, too, but I prefer to ask only one of them (I don't know why, I just do) and I prefer Jeff because he's a guy, and men are more challenging for me to ask than women.

But Jeff and Catherine aren't strangers. They aren't people I met because of LMEC. We met because she started a conversation with me, and now we "know each other" because we've been talking for a while. (I don't know exactly how long. Five, maybe 10 minutes?)

Asking Jeff isn't going to be the same as approaching and inviting a complete stranger. The challenge of those interactions are a significant part of this experiment for me. I am positive Jeff is going to say "yes." I know he's the kind of guy who will be into this experience.

However, I am going to bend the strict "strangers only" rule this time because (1) we're still in the middle of our first encounter and (2) I haven't done this permutation of the experiment conditions yet.

So I ask him if he'll participate, and he consents.

Catherine and I swap chairs so that I'm sitting right next to Jeff. This is the closest I've been to someone during the eye contact phase.

We begin making eye contact. I'm a little uncomfortable this time. Not a lot, but a little. Actually, I'm in my head. I think about my posture, about focusing on his eyes. I'm aware of my gaze focusing on one eye or another. I'm not inhabiting the space between us, I'm not "in" him. I don't get lost in our eye contact, or feel that I'm connected to him. I don't feel like I'm empathizing with him. I'm present, but closed. I don't dislike the experience we're sharing, but I'm not settled into it or effortlessly comfortable, either.

I think part of the reason I'm uncomfortable and in my head is that we've already done "so much" talking before commencing the experiment. Catherine and Jeff are people with whom I'm connecting on an intellectual, creative level. This doesn't happen often. I put a lot of value in what they say. Despite their words of praise, I'm self-conscious. Perhaps I'm just excited to be having intellectually stimulating conversation with people who have a lot to say.

We're done, and we continue to talk for a while.

I receive Jeff's consent to use his name and photograph and I take his picture.

We talk more. Jeff and I make plans to walk around the lake tomorrow morning.

It's time for all of us to head back to work. We exchange hugs and leave the coffee shop, walking in opposite directions.

I don't want to do the experiment today.

I've been in the office all day, writing code and reading. I haven't been very social, and because of the type of work I've been doing, my "social mode" is turned off. I don't want to turn it on. It's the same kind of feeling I feel when I don't want to exercise.

I thought about going out for coffee in the morning, but instead got straight to work. I thought about going out for lunch, but instead ate the food I brought. As a result, I haven't been outside, so I haven't met any strangers. And it's getting dark.

Usually I approach people in the late morning or early afternoon when it's light out (Olivia was an exception), when they're sitting down (Woori was an exception), perhaps having coffee or food, or are in that kind of environment, and not actively engaged in conversation, or anything else, with another person.

To get myself started, I leave the office to take something to my car. I'm kind of on the lookout for a participant, but am trepidatious. I feel like, if I approach someone, I will be inconveniencing them, getting in their way, making them uncomfortable, potentially angering them, or creating an awkward situation. This is the same bundle of feelings and worries I had when I was in foreign countries and wanted to interact with strangers who (I assumed) didn't speak English well. This is that same kind of doubt, of trepidation, a little package of shyness, fear, shame, guilt, and assumptions.

Part of this is where I am coming from; as I said, I've been non-social all day. Somehow this has me in a mindset where I see myself and others differently, like something about me, right now, is more likely to make the interactions not go well. Is my image of myself in this moment not as high as it is at other times?

Also, there's the darkness. I feel like it's going to be more difficult to approach someone and make eye contact with them now that it's becoming nighttime. I feel like people are going to be in more of a hurry, more suspicious of me when I approach them, especially with something unusual.

Nevertheless. I grab my things and leave the office, walking towards the downtown area. My plan, tonight, is to look for someone who I think will be willing to make eye contact with me. Given my current mode, and the two rejections yesterday, as long as I am going to do this, it would be nice to actually make eye contact with someone.

Less than two blocks away I arrive on a main commercial street. I pause at a corner and a woman walks past me. She looks at me as she passes. Her eyes seem to smile. I'm about to continue on, but I turn around, and she's waiting to cross the street, looking away from me. She's the one. Go.

"Excuse me."

She turns and faces me, saying "Don't ask me for directions!" in what I perceive to be a playful, open tone.

"I'm not going to," I reply.

This time I do not use my "This may be a bit unusual" intro. Instead, I start with the experiment:

"I am doing an experiment in which every day I make eye contact with a stranger for 60 seconds. Is this something you'd be willing to do?"

"Sure!"

She sounds enthusiastic ~ yay!

We walk to some nearby tables. (We both seemed to be on the same page about going there to sit down for this, a first.) On the way she asks why I'm doing this (everyone's favorite question!) and I tell her we'll talk about it after we do it.

We sit down and I pull out my timer and explain how it works. This time I don't explain the parameters while looking at her, because I'm busy fiddling with the timer. The display is different from what it usually looks like, and I'm not sure if it's still set correctly. I test it a bit and it seems OK, so we begin.

Her eyes are smiling the whole time. She seems very happy. She seems like the kind of person who I'd like to know and would feel comfortable talking with for a while. Interestingly, this is the first time that I feel like the 60 seconds is a long time. Several times during out eye contact I think about the time, wondering if the timer is broken and we're going over 60 seconds, and if I should break the eye contact to check on the timer. I detect that maybe she is thinking that this is going on for a long time, based on the changes in her facial expression, but I'm not sure, cannot read her thoughts of course.

The timer goes off. It was set correctly.

"Well, that was fast!" she says.

Surprisingly, we had different interpretations of that length of time!

I share my perspective with her. We talk for a little while, about various things: her perception of the time, how she regularly does 20 minute meditations (and that seems like a long time!), my motivations for doing this experiment, including getting comfortable talking with strangers, being vulnerable, getting rejected, just seeing what happens, and writing practice via the blog documenting the project. Mentioning the blog is my segue into asking if I can use her name and photograph, to which she consents!

We also talk about some of my previous experiences, which I have not done with any participants before. I share with her about yesterday's rejections and some of the different circumstances of the day, and some other interesting tidbits of other interactions.

I snap her photo and ask her name.

"Claudia," she tells me.

This is the first time I take the photo before getting the name.

I give her a leave-behind with the blog URL.

We talk a bit more, then she wishes me well with the project and says she'll check out the blog when she gets home.

Claudia, I hope you do! It was so nice to meet you. Thanks for participating and turning my mood around today.

P.S. What's your hometown? Do you not live in Victoria?

Yesterday I asked two people and was rejected both times. Curious.

Also, a number of factors about yesterday were different from previous days.

1. The weather was not sunny, it was rainy. I wonder if the "gloomy" weather made people less receptive to me.

2. I was dressed "kinda weird." Here's me:

My outfit consisted of green argyle socks with sandals, blue rave pants, a t-shirt (not visible), scarf, and blanket-as-cloak. I wonder if my appearance caused people to be more suspicious of, and less open to interacting with me when I approached them.

My first rejection by "James" was the most closed response I have received from someone yet. Interestingly, he was an older person, like Ellen. I wonder if older folks continue to be less willing to participate.

Looking back at my interaction with Angie, I cannot recall if I asked her if I could use her photograph on the blog, despite us not doing the 60 seconds of eye contact. I wish that I had. I wonder if some people won't be willing to do the eye contact but will be willing to let me take their photograph.

A few minutes earlier I walked past a vintage store. There were two girls sitting on the steps of the store having a conversation. One of the girls acknowledged me, looking at me as I passed.

I've got a high from the encounter I just had with "James." I think, "what the hell, let's try for eye contact again, right now. Let's do two approaches back-to-back." This will be a first for me.

I proceed directly back to that vintage store, hoping to find the girls still sitting on the steps. I figure that the girl who made eye contact with me earlier will participate in the experiment.

They aren't on the steps, so I walk into the store. Ah, there she is, and I approach her.

Our conversation went something like this:

Me: "Hey. You were sitting out on the steps earlier, right?"

Her: "Yeah. I'm Angie."

Me: "Hi. I'm Josh."

Angie has long, straight brown hair and thick, black-rimmed glasses. She's about my height.

This time I choose not to lead in with the "unusual" bit, or talk about the experiment. I go straight for the ask.

Me: "I have a request. Will you make eye contact with me for 60 seconds?"

Her: "What's it for?"

Me: "An experiment."

Her: "No..."

Again! But, her "no" isn't like the previous guy's. She's... Nice. She isn't irritated by me. I'm curious about her response.

Me: "Why?"

Her: "It's too much. My eyes say too much. Too much in the last few days. I don't want to put it on you."

I say something like "I can handle it." She says something else, I can't recall, and I ask her if she is protecting me or herself.

"Both," she says.

I ask her if she'd say "yes" if it was only for 30 seconds. Again, she says she wouldn't do it. Still too much.

Me: "OK, in any case I am going to give you this," and I put a leave-behind in her hand, telling her that she can see what I write about our encounter at this blog.

She introduces me to the other girl who was sitting on the steps, who, I am guessing, also works there. Her name is Ashley.

I thank her for talking with me and leave the shop.

Spoiler: I never learn his name, so we'll call him "James."

Today was a rainy day. I was walking around downtown, not exactly with the intention of making eye contact. I was in an emotional mood and wanted to walk around outside to be out of the office, to kind of reset myself. But I knew that if I didn't do eye contact now, I didn't know when I'd do it.

I turned a corner and saw a man halfway down the block sitting at a table outside of a cafe. His back was towards me, but I could tell that he was alone, and older (not sure how old), with wavy grey hair. I knew this was the guy to ask. I also had a feeling that he was going to reject me.

I walked to the end of the block to scope out the situation. He was alone, sitting with his iPad, coffee, and a cookie. I turned back and approached him, starting with "excuse me." He looks up from his iPad at me, making eye contact. His eyes are light grey/blue. I notice that he has a large, defined chin.

I am pretty sure his response, his greeting, was "no."

"I'm not selling anything," I tell him.

I think he said "good."

This is the conversation we had:

Me: "I have an unusual request. I'm doing an experiment in which, every day, I make eye contact with a stranger for 60 seconds. Is this something you'd be willing to do with me?"

Guy: "No."

Me: "Would it make you uncomfortable?"

Guy: "I'm busy... I'm emailing," he says, kind of waving his hand at his iPad.

He isn't exactly rude, but he says this as if I should know that he's busy and why the hell am I messing with him when he's so obviously doing such important work.

Me: "OK. Do you mind if I ask you your name?"

Guy: "No."

Me: "You don't want to tell me your name?"

Guy: "No."

Me: "OK, thank you."

And I walk away.

Total rejection. And I didn't care. It didn't feel personal at all. Actually, I kind of felt bad for him. I really don't know what was going on with him, in his life, in his head, but he seemed so protective, so suspicious. He really did not want to interact with me.

This satisfies the "one approach per day" for the experiment, but now I want to make eye contact with someone after this.

I walk further down the waterfront. Standing on a walkway that overlooks a lower path that connects the docks, I see two girls who are walking around, each holding a paper, doing what appears to me to be some kind of experiment, survey, or project. One of the girls begins to approach a man sitting on a large concrete mushroom, but then then man gets up and walks away, and the girl reconsiders her mission and rejoins her friend.

I decide to involve them with my own project, so I purposefully walk down the stairs and approach them. Instead of inviting both/either of them to participate, like I did on Day 2, this time I direct my invitation specifically towards the girl who approached the man seated on the mushroom.

I give my usual introduction and invite her to participate, to which she consents. Then I explain the parameters of the experiment, ask for her consent again, and she says "OK." Since we're standing, I suggest we walk to some steps nearby and sit there while making eye contact. She and her friend follow me to the steps. My participant and I sit down, while her friend stands nearby. This time, I am conscious to have my participant positioned so that she isn't looking into the sun. I start the timer.

Her eyes are very dark. It is difficult to tell where the pupil ends and the iris begins. I notice the black makeup on the outer corner of each eye. Periodically her eyebrows raise, then relax. I can also detect a change in shape of her eye line, periodically narrowing, then widening again. Perhaps her focus is changing? I cannot detect which of my eyes she is focusing on, or if she is focusing on either. I don't know what she's thinking, and would like to know. (However, I forget to ask this when the experiment is over.) The wind blows her bangs into her face a bit, but she does not fix them. Most of the time she has a slight, close-lipped smile. Around 30 seconds in (I think) she laughs briefly, softly, still close-lipped. Our shared experience seems to relax around 40 seconds in.

Right after the timer expires she says word in a foreign language. I thought it was a Japanese word, and I ask if she's Japanese. She isn't; she is Korean.

"Why do you do this project?" she asks.

I say that I do it to practice talking to strangers, that I am nervous before, but afterward I feel very relaxed. I do it to meet new and different kinds of people, and because making eye contact like this with anyone is vulnerable and intimate, and especially so with strangers. And I am curious to know if people will do it, and what will happen.

She consents to the use of her name and photograph on the blog!

She tells me her name is Woori and I write it down in my journal. She doesn't like the first photograph, so after fixing her hair we take another, with which she is satisfied. Yay!

I give her a new leave-behind card and tell her that she can see the post about our interaction and her picture at the blog's URL. I also invite her to get in touch if she has any thoughts, feelings, or experiences that she'd like to share with me. This is the first time I've invited a participant to follow up, if they wish.

Before leaving, I ask Woori about what she and her friend are up to today. They are doing some kind of school project, and their papers seem to have instructions and prompts on them. Woori asks me who my favorite celebrity is.

"George Clooney!"

She writes down my answer and asks why he is my favorite.

"Because he's sexy and a good actor."

We each thank the other for participating in our respective experiments, and head off on our separate ways.

Today is a day of firsts. It's the first time I will be doing the experiment with two people in the same day. It's also the first time I am heading out with the explicit purpose of finding participants. So far, I have found a participant while I'm in the midst of doing something else, usually while out for a meal. This time, however, I am leaving the office with the sole purpose of doing LMEC with two strangers.

I head to Wharf St, where there are many benches overlooking the harbor. My intention is to approach someone who is sitting alone on a bench.

Not more than a block away I spot a man sitting on a bench. I approach him and sit down on the bench. I ask if I may interrupt him, a question which he doesn't seem to understand, perhaps because I am not speaking up, or perhaps because he is surprised.

I do my usual introduction, no changes to the script this time. I ask him if he is willing to participate in the experiment, and he seems noncommittal. He says that he does not have a lot of time and is about to go somewhere. I ask him if that means his answer is a "no" and he seems to reconsider, or at least lean towards a "yes."

He asks about the purpose of the experiment, and I tell him we can talk about it afterwards.

"But we're doing it now," he says, referring to making eye contact with each other, and glances at his watch to indicate, I suppose, that we could be tracking the minute now.

"Yes, we are," I say. "But here's now this works..."

And I explain the parameters of the experiment and ask for his consent again. He says it sounds interesting, and sure, he'll do it. So I start the timer and we begin.

He asks if we can talk, and I shake my head to indicate "no." The man seems fidgety. He looks away a few times. His gaze changes from relaxed to squinting, his bowline calm then furrowed. About halfway through he changes his sitting position. He adjusts his glasses right his right hand, and near the end uses his right hand to block the sun from his eyes.

When the 60 seconds is up I ask him if he was nervous. He says he was not, but that the sun was in his eyes. I hadn't considered our orientation to the sun when I positioned myself. I will think about that next time.

I return to his earlier question, why I am doing this, and give my usual reasons. He seems to understand, and says that it seems easy to do in Canada. I tell him that so far it has been fairly easy, that I've only done it in Victoria, and I will probably continue to do the experiment in other places.

Next I pitch to him the part about using his first name and photograph on the blog. "I think not," he says, and I ask him if is OK if I just use his first name, to which he consents. I ask him his name and he says "Bruno." I introduce myself and write his name down in my journal.

Bruno is a man about my age, with short dark hair and a full beard of the same length and color. His glasses have black, rectangular rims.

Finally, I give him one of my new leave-behinds and tell him he can get in touch with me and see the post about our interaction on the blog. I thank him for participating and wish him well.