“Okay, I’ll give you the straight: They do, and they have many, many more looks, my friend. They have the looks that command you to take out the garbage, stop talking, quit being so loud, and what you just said was plain stupid–and much, much more. There is a catalogue of looks, you know; I have a copy. The most common look is a furrowed brow with a slight head tilt to the left, half-squinted eyes pointing in the same direction. That’s the look given to most men. It’s really a harmless look in terms of the Look Hierarchy. This one probably ranks at about a 1.5 on a 10 point scale.”
“Are you kidding me? Why do those looks ranks so low? I mean, they seem pretty powerful to me, Bud.”
“Well, it depends on the offense. Take me, for example. I once dated a woman who saw me looking at another woman, a bruzia; she gave me the most contemptuous look I have ever experienced. I wasn’t even looking at the other woman as attractive, but as someone I thought I knew from sometime in the past. Now her look at me was different: the head was straight; opened eyes the size of small melons, piercing directly into mine; teeth clinched; jaw muscles flexing with every breath she took; nostrils flaring open large enough for flies to make emergency landings if needed. I could have sworn I saw two small horns raising from under the skin on her sun-baked forehead. She always denied that one, though.”
“So what happened?”
“I don’t remember; I passed out in the restaurant: fell out of my chair, tripped a waiter who spilled four dishes on me and people at the next table, I was told. The next thing I knew, I was in the emergency room, hooked up to a heart monitor. When the doctor finally spoke to me, he said ‘looking at another woman, huh? Then you passed out. Then they rushed you in to see a doctor in the emergency wing. I see this all the time. It’s that look! And I’ve seen them all.’
So, when I got out, I spoke to Charlie, who indicated to me that a woman’s gazing looks are many, and vary by degree. Each one of them hold some power and the potential for immediate destruction to the recipient of said look. He has had many friends lose it all over that look. He once had a friend who drove his car into oncoming traffic. His friend tried feverishly but failed to escape the gaze; and he got the look by simply asking the wrong question. Each woman decides, for herself, which look she will give, based on the offense.
But, Wilard, it all begins in childhood for a woman, a bruzia. Charlie says that women attend special gazing conventions. These camps, or killer’s look conventions, are dedicated to manipulating look training. They go through months of rigorous training as very young children. Then, when they are done, and it becomes intuitive, almost second nature, they are released to the world. By the time they are three, these skills are codified in their personalities, Charlie says. All women, at some point, realize they have it, but never speak about it to one another. It’s another example of that unspoken, feminine code.
The downside to all of this is when a woman, a bruzia, recognizes this powerful trait and becomes overly aggressive with it, that killer’s look. It’s like a power hungry executive needing to wield her power. It can get out of control. A loose canon, out of control! I’ve also lost a few friends to oncoming traffic, deliriously running onto car-filled streets, looking to escape this gaze. It’s that gaze that drives many men to suicide. When I asked about the friends I’ve lost to traffic, they say an accident, but I know better. The only advice I can give you is to be aware, and be very, very careful.