There's this middle-aged gay man [oh, what a cruel phrase that is] who works down the hallway. How do I know he's a gay man? Trust me, it doesn't take a highly-developed sense of gayar for this one.

Every time he walks down the corridor in front of me, he looks at me. I sense him looking at me, so I look up and catch him seemingly staring at me.

I tend to look up involuntarily whenever someone passes, but most people walk purposefully past - they don't stare at me. He always notices me looking up and catches me seemingly staring at him. So I look back to see if he looks back, and he looks back to see if I look back to see if he looks back to see if I was looking at him.

I don't know why he looks at me. Maybe it's because he fancies me, maybe it's because he thinks I fancy him [er, yeah, right!], maybe it's just because he can tell I'm another gay man [it doesn't take a highly-developed sense of etc]. But stop it now. Both of us.