Each time I fell in love, it was with a smile. No, with smiling eyes. I still remember the gaze of all the guys who caught my heart. The chocolate ones, the sharp blue ones, the golden ones.

8 years I’m in love with golden eyes I’ve seen laughing, crying, desiring. I can remember of some situations because I remember his look at me at that moment. The guy I was with before had deeply strengthened my conviction on what I wanted and what mattered. I didn’t leave him because he banged others guys, but because I couldn’t feel him or his emotions. Meeting the golden-eyed made me build the relationship differently. Hearing hid voice and breath. Feeling his moves near me. Reading his answers when we touch each other. And knowing everything from his eyes. Especially when it comes to sex. I know if he wants to, likes it or enjoyed the guy he just left in bed. I know he’s who I was looking for. For sure.

Eyes are very different when you desire, and more again when you have sex. I love facing the guys I fuck. Look at their eyes. They tell so much. The will, the pleasure, what they pay attention to when they fuck – or get fucked. But looking at them in the eyes is far more powerful. An intense connection. Stronger than any dick in any ass. It’s like they confess their truth. I can recall that night with a friend, not because he seduced me by talking about art and politics, but because his eyes everytime I fucked him were like lighthouses, sparkling in the dark.

Sometimes I leave my body and wonder: what do I confess when fucking? What do my eyes say? My squint may betray my truth. Maybe I’m lying without willing it. It makes me sad.

I’ve left guys. I’ve forgotten their body, their smell, the precise sound of their voice, but not their eyes. Their smiling eyes. And that keeps me smiling.