Being Desired

Still coming to terms with an experience Saturday that was one of my most moving at BurlyCon — and of my life.

I was taking a class on “Eye Contact and Sensuality” — commonly referred to in burly world as “eye fucking the audience.” One of the exercises involved everyone walking around, locking eyes with someone and either: giving them a slow caress from their hair, to their face and down to their arms; or being the receiver of the caress.

With some people there wasn’t any connection, and we’d both continue on our separate ways; with some people it was perfunctory, just completing the exercise, with a surprising number of people it was a quite intimate shared experience with a stranger (more about that later possibly).

And then my eyes met the eyes of one woman….

It’s a cliche of desire to talk of magnetic attraction, of feeling a jolt of electricity shot through you, of getting completely lost in another’s eyes, when you meet that special someone. Honestly I’ve never felt that in my life. Never.

But this time… Our eyes met and we both seemed pulled together by forces larger than ourselves. I caressed her, she caressed me. It got hotter than the passion of a thousand burning suns. (Afterwards other members of the class commented that they expected us to go get a room at any moment — and that was before we met again during the second round of the exercise, when when we were instructed to channel sexual energy (or not) into our gazes.)

In that moment, I felt completely and utter desired. Something I’ve never felt before. Not once.

Unfortunately, I got buttonholed at the end of the class and the woman slipped away before I could talk to her or find out who she was. I never saw her again.

Realistically, at this point, it will remain only a cherished memory. (Though should we somehow connect again, obviously I’d love to talk to her.)

Did she genuinely desire me, or was it just acting? (If it’s the latter, I bow down to her +1,000 mad ninja eye fucking skillz.)

I’ll probably never know, and ultimately it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that it happened at a time when I’m feeling particularly unsexy, unattractive, and unlovable. Whoever you are, wherever you are… thank you, thank you so very much.