You have something in your teeth and I’m much too polite to tell you, therefore I cannot look at you for fear that my politeness will force me to tell you about that thing in your teeth. So even though it may look like I’m dismissing you as a human being with any valid opinions, really, there’s just something in your teeth. I swear.
I think you are a genius and I am completely intimidated by your genius words, therefore I will continue to pretend you don’t exist during our meetings because I simply cannot handle your genius.
I have so much respect for you, and for all women in the workplace, that I cannot bear the thought of any man disrespecting you in any way. Therefore, I bow my head in shame and look at the floor, or at my shoe, or at the wall, or literally anywhere else while you speak – out of pure respect.
I’m telepathic, but I can only read your thoughts when I stare at your male coworker, Kevin. I’m not sure why – it’s just the way my brain works. But I want you to know that I really, really value your thoughts, specifically the ones I hear telepathically.
I have Asperger’s Syndrome. Have you heard of it? If not, a very common symptom from it is extreme difficulty making eye contact. However, this particular strand of Asperger’s that I happen to have makes it difficult for me to make eye contact with only women, mainly women who find themselves in meetings with me between the hours of 9 am and 5 pm. I know, right? It’s a very specific kind of Asperger’s.
I have “Medusa-phobia,” which is the fear of turning to stone when I look at you, or any woman for that matter – including my wife. My therapist diagnosed me with it, so it’s definitely a real thing.
Your eyes have invisible laser beams shooting out of them and every time I look into them they go pew-pew and fry parts of my brain off.
Your eyeballs are mysteriously carrying the scent of the last onion you chopped, somehow. And if I were to look into them, my own eyes would start to water. And since it would be unprofessional for me to cry at work, I cannot stare into your onion eyeballs.
I may not seem blind because I hide it so well, but I am totally blind and can only communicate through touch. So that’s why I touch your back or your arm very lightly while you sit at your desk sometimes. It’s because I’m blind. Completely, totally blind.
And so it’s for these reasons, dear female employee, that I cannot look at you. Unless of course, I’m talking to you about how gorgeous my car is or some other story unrelated to work, in which case I can totally look at you and none of the above reasons apply.
Speaking of my sexy car, I just got a new bumper sticker! But we can talk about that at our next meeting. See you in an hour!