Squinting into the wild
Glass is like having a puppy—a really, really cute pitbull puppy. Everyone wants to stop and ask about it (in lieu of petting my face, happily). But they're a little wary of it at the same time. Are you recording me right now? (No.) Is Google watching? (Probably.)
Standing in line for a cup of coffee can make me a captive audience for Random Stranger's rant about Big Brother. Note to world: Complaining about Glass to Glass does not open a direct complaint box conduit to Google.
(See also: My Date With A Glasshole)
After that whole date with a glasshole thing, the initial charm has largely worn off and I can't get away with as much when it comes to my inner social circle. And as for the outer social circle, I honestly just don't have the time or energy to deal with curious strangers a lot of the time. The good news? In the great outdoors, the squirrels are totally uninterested in what's on my face.