“There is hope!”

“If it weren’t for the fact I hafta go to the store, I’d hang around and shoot the breeze with you a while,” I said to *****-the-lifeguard at the Canandaigua YMCA swimming-pool.
“Well, next time,” ***** said. She may have said “I hope” too; I can’t remember. She seems to look forward to it; she was smiling at me.
“There,” I thought to myself: “Did my duty!” Made my effort with good old *****. Its seems she wants me to.
*****-the-lifeguard is 62 years old; although I was dumbfounded when she told me that. Okay, I see the wrinkles and crows-feet, etc. But that stuff tells me middle 40s. Look harder, and I get her up to perhaps 50 or more.
Why she’d talk to a creaky old geezer I’ll never know. I sure ain’t Adonis; I’m 12 years older than her.
Maybe it’s because I get her laughing. My wife always told me that; 44+ years because I made her laugh. I’m half insane, yet my wife stayed with me supposedly because I made her laugh.
Now she’s GONE. Comin’ up on six years next month. BEST friend I ever had — I miss her immensely.
***** and I keep plugging along. She hasn’t left yet, nor have I. It wouldn’t take much to get me walking away. If she told me she was a partier I’d stop talking to her. Same if she dyed her hair dayglo green.
I keep trying because it seems ***** may be someone I enjoy talking to. This goes back eons. As a teenager it was my cousin Judy. Judy was someone I could talk to — she pretty much knew what I was saying, and I knew what she was saying.
Relatives were angrily banging pots in the kitchen, but Judy and I were discussing philosophy in the living-room. Judy was a fabulous discussion. I wanted to marry someone like cousin Judy.
In college it was “da Wooze,” a girl I worked with in the college kitchen. “Yada-yada-yada-yada;” all we ever did was jabber with each other. But “Wooze” wanted to marry another, so I gave up.
After college was the girl I dated during college after “Wooze;” same class as me, but slightly older. And as always, being 23 I had no idea what I was doing, except getting married seemed imperative. My wife-to-be liked me before we started dating, so after she thought about it, that was what we did.
Not a fabulous discussion at first, but that was what she became. Maybe I inadvertently drew her out — I think the marbles were there beforehand, but no one was there to draw them out. Not male anyway; she had girlfriends who fascinated her.
Now she’s GONE.
Best friend I ever had. But I keep looking for someone to talk to, and ***** may be it. I probably have her misread, but it seems I should keep trying. And that’s all it would be for the moment. Just a companion, or whatever. Dunna toucha da wallet. I’m too used to living alone. But making someone laugh is fun.