The first time I fell in love I was five years old. His name was Steve, and we were in Miss Smith’s morning kindergarten class together. A pixie of a boy, I can still picture him. He had these gorgeous brown eyes. The eyes have always had it in for me. Window to the soul perhaps, but my Achilles’ heel since day one. We played tag. He was the only boy I couldn’t catch. My other weak spot. A man who was unavailable.

I have long since stopped chasing men. If they don’t stop, it’s because they really aren’t that into you. But I haven’t yet managed to avoid being sucked in by a sexy set of peepers. And it’s not the color, the shape, or face they inhabit that make someone’s eyes so alluring.

The last pair of eyes to suck me in defied my ability to color code. The furtiveness of the glances made it difficult to catch them out. It was nice to be the object of a man’s interest again, but despite my best efforts since, it has gone nowhere, and I am disappointed. Read Full Article