It was 2 am in the East Village on a mid-winter's Saturday night. Outside the weather was wickedly ablaze with a teeming, tempestuous blizzard.
I was in the dark downstairs area of a tiny downtown club. The air inside sharply contrasted with the air outside. It was thick, and hot, and teeming with sexuality and glistening dancing bodies.
I had ingested somewhere between two and four cocktails. I was just the right kind of buzzed.
I had finally shaken off the backbreaking stress and relentless heartache of an all-consuming workweek and was blissfully holding court on the dance floor with my best girlfriend.
I took a moment to catch my breath and take in the sea of mixed drinks and bending bodies, when my eye accidentally caught the eye of a faceless stranger.
I'm a writer. It had been a long and arduous week spent staring into the static screen of a computer. When you've been robbed of human contact for seven days, an exchanged glance feels jarring. It was unsettling.
But it didn't stop a bolt of electricity from sifting through the entirety of my body.
Who was this mysterious creature whom I had indirectly made eyes with? I was as embarrassed as I was turned on.
I took a sip of my vodka soda, exhaled and averted my eyes upward. It was the DJ. She was staring at me.
This time I didn't blink. I let it happen.
She was undressing me with her eyes -- slowly, carefully. Moment-to-moment.
Not in a violating way, I met her stare and fully consented. It was nothing like the heaps of creeps who invade your personal space with their aggressive stares at 7 am on the subway.
I liked it. In fact, I was loving every f*cking second of it.
Her soft gaze penetrated mine, and something was starting to happen. Feelings of irrepressible desire were starting to slowly unfold within me.
I was suddenly overcome with unexpected pinpricks of wild lust. The tension was slowly building. The longer we looked into each other's eyes, the more and more I wanted her. It was the best kind of torture.
Our eyes were speaking their own wordless language made up entirely of sex, and lust, and heat and chemistry.
We were having eye sex. Right there. In lower Manhattan. Through the smoky haze of a crowded dance floor.
The fact that it was in public made it oh so much hotter. Not a single entity in the room was aware of what was happening between the DJ and I.
It wasn't forward like a touch. Or keen words.
It was as if we were sharing an intimate little secret. Secrets are seductive. They're a collaborative exchange between two consenting people, sort of like sex.
I was becoming increasingly breathless. I didn't want it to stop. I felt insatiable, and fueled with the desire to soak in every second of this exploded moment.
We were locked in. I felt like her eyes were spelling out all of my secrets, desires and wicked fantasies. It was a reading of the mind.
We were so f*cking in tune with one another.
The lights of the club turned on in that brutal, almost painful way in which they do when the clock strikes 4 am in the great city of New York.
Last call had come and gone like shifting tides. My friend stumbled over to me with half-opened, slanted, inebriated eyes and slurred that she needed to be taken home. NOW.
She handed me my black leather coat. It was time to face the storm. I peered back for one last lustful look to intoxicate me from my sexy DJ -- and she was gone. My blissful night of eye f*cking was officially over.
But it stuck with me. Oddly, it was one of the hotter sexual experiences that had manifested in my little world over the past several months. It was a massive f*cking tease that left me weak in the knees and begging for MORE.
It opened something up within me. It's so rare to have really good eye sex in this dark digital age.
Is that why eye f*cking is a lost art? Are we so consumed with our phones, hell-bent with the latest laptop, knee-deep in a slew of dating apps -- that we've shied away from eye contact, period?
Full-frontal eye contact is so direly rare in the Internet generation. We don't look each other in the eye, let alone eye f*ck.
Are we so collectively sexually unsatisfied because we're too afraid to look each other in the eyes? How can we have real, hot, passionate, intimate, engaged sex-lives when we're racked with fear at the most pure form of human contact?
We need to eye f*ck. All of us.
Eye contact is primal.
We live in such a removed, cold age. We deeply fear real connections. We're spending so much time disconnecting and disengaging from the populous by staying in the safe haven of our laptops.
Eye contact strips away all the bullsh*t we've become so dependent on. Staring into someone's eyes allows you to see the real, raw humanity of a person.
When you gaze into someone's eyes, you can see a person without the heaps of endless filters and relentless hashtags. It brings us back to our primal state.
Eye contact is where seduction begins, after all.
Eye contact asserts power.
Power -- when utilized correctly -- is sexy. Sex is, after all, the ultimate power exchange. When we're feeling overcome with sweeping sensations of unabashed lust, it's an all-consuming, powerful feeling.
When someone stares into your eyes, and you fearlessly gaze back, you're allowing him or her into your precious orbit. It's vulnerable. You're willingly handing yourself over to someone.
All of a sudden, they're in total control of you as this person teases you with his or her pressing eyes.
Eye contact creates a hot uneasiness.
We aren't used to eye contact. It makes us feel uneasy. Unsteady. Unsure.
Eye sex with someone cultivates feelings of irrepressible nerves within us.
It strips our Band-Aids of false confidence away, and we're made to feel nervous.
I love feeling nervous -- it shakes me out of my comfort zone. When we're turned on, there's always a healthy dose of unease. It's what we refer to as electricity. It's what cultivates the heat.
Eye contact oozes confidence.
It takes a confident human being to directly gaze into your wide-set doe eyes and undress you. It's not a game for the faint of heart. It's a game for the strong. For the authentically confident.
And isn't that what we're drawn to? Aren't we searching for entities with high self-esteem who aren't afraid of their sexual prowess?
What's sexier than a person with real confidence? What's sexier than someone who isn't afraid to look you dead in the eye and have his or her way with you.
Eye contact is the ultimate foreplay.
Eye contact is the sexiest, most powerful form of foreplay. When someone's gaze penetrates your gaze, but you can't touch him or her, it's the best tease in the world.
When someone has the ability to seduce you without a touch, without a cheap word -- just from the intensity of his or her stare, it's hot. It leaves us wondering how amazing this person would be in bed.
It drives us wild. Makes us crazy. Eye f*cking demands a reaction.
It leaves us teeming with relentless desire and wanting more...