Every single mob movie has a scene where some mafia guy looks at another guy and goes, "Whaddya you looking at?" Immediately afterward he gets his head blown off. If I was a mob boss welcoming in the new rookie class of mobsters, first thing I'd tell them,
"Never look at nobody. Somebody ask you what you looking at? You tell am I ain't lookin at nobody. Now everybody hold hands, we're gonna do some eye contact drills."
Men getting looked at by other men don't react like, "Huh, that man is looking at me. He must like my haircut." It's usually more like a precursor to a West Side Story showdown. People call this toxic masculinity. I can trace my toxic experience to 5th grade when a kid called me "GayDrian." To this day if I hear that the reptilian part of my brain will kick in like a mad gorilla. To combat toxic masculinity you're supposed to do all the things you trained yourself not to do in 5th grade, like hold hands with other men and cry. That's why I'm going to go to Times Square this weekend and ask grown men to hold hands with me and look deep into my eyes so we can cry together. I'm sure I won't get my ass kicked.