Men are from Turkey, Women are from Abroad

Here's one thing I really don't understand. Call me culturally insensitive, but Turkish men have a severe staring problem. I bear witness to this problem in a plethora of situations from swanky restaurants to seedy street corners. Although I would like to attribute it to my smashing good looks and supermodel body(clarification: sardonic humor, not narcissism) I am quite certain my physical appearance plays only a small part in the national pandemic I've coined staringitis.

This country is full of men. Sometimes it seems there are men and primarily only men - riding on the metro, loitering in the parks, working at the bakkals, walking down the street, scooting around on motorbikes. Yet for the hordes of men out there, there seems to be a massive divide. They are totally inaccessible and unapproachable, and often this gap is bridged by the palpable stare.

Although the stare is sometimes completely unsolicited, it generally starts if I inadvertently catch a man's eye. Sure, a misplaced glance could easily be misinterpreted as a come on in the proper context, say, a bar or a brothel. But when walking down a quiet street on a weekday afternoon? When glancing down the metro platform to see if the train is coming? On a crowded bus? Must my eyes have no resting place besides the searing gaze of a stranger?

Then, they stare. Not just a quick up-down-up-look away 'I'm checking you out glance,'but a full-on stare. No, not just a stare. A Prodigal Stare. Excessive. Visually indulgent. Prolonged. Persistent. Without blinking.

Then we play this silly game: I glanced at you accidentally or because I felt you staring at me, but because I caught your eye now you think I'm staring at you. Now you think I want you. Now you are staring more intensely. Now I look at you again to see if you are still staring. Surprise, surprise, you still are. Now its confirmed. I must be staring at you. The vicious cycle continues.

(begin internal monologue)
WHAT? Do I have a bugger hanging from my nose? Am I wearing a scarlet A or something? Okay I may be a little cute but come on. What is the purpose of such prolonged visual violation? I mean, really. What do these men think they are going to achieve with a passive stare? I'll approach them and say, "hey, I noticed you boring holes into my chest with your eyes. Wanna grab a kebab and make out"? Or am I expected to take a more subtle approach? Write my number on a cloth napkin and pass it along from table to table Junior High style?

Perhaps we Americans divert our eyes because we find such interactions too revealing, to real, too human. Perhaps deep down we are starers too and our true curiosity and shameless voyeurism is submerged under a false sense of sophistication and nonchalance. Is it more annoying to deal with the guy who tries to mask his desire to stare with furtive glances from behind a newspaper, or the one who makes no attempt (nor sees any reason to) hide his actions? Does it do any harm besides making me uncomfortable and excessively self-conscious?

Here's the thing. I like to survey my environment. I hate feeling that I have to keep my eyes glued to the floor just so I can avoid a potentially awkward interaction. I just don't get it, but maybe there is nothing to get at all. Maybe its just because they can.