The men stare.
They will look you up and down without shame, showing no sign of remorse.
They will smile at you. They will say ‘hello’ and ‘good morning’ and ask ‘how are you?’
They will turn their heads as you walk by.
They are masters of the double take.
They will approach you at a bar and ask you what your accent is. Always guessing American. Not once getting it right.
They will brush up against you in the underground and offer you their seat on the tube if you look sufficiently exhausted.
Here, the men are cheeky bastards.
I would be lying if I told you that I didn’t like it.
Just a little bit.