I woulda walked away

I’m sorry I keep harping on this. I can talk to pretty girls. It’s AMAZING!
I’m a graduate of the Hilda Q. Walton School of Sexual Relations, whereby as a callow youth I was convinced I was “despicable scum.” Hilda was my next-door neighbor during childhood, and my Sunday-School Superintendent.
To her all pants-wearers, including me, were disgusting. I was told no female would ever wanna talk to me. My parents, Bible-beating zealots like Hilda, heartily agreed.
I was walking my dog this morning at Kershaw Park north of Canandaigua Lake. He dragged me onto a pier, and it has handrails, which I want having questionable balance.
“Oh, I didn’t see you here,” I said to a pretty young girl on the pier. Not long ago I would have walked away. She had been running, and was taking a breather.
“Oh, what a pretty dog,” she said. Killian, my rescue Irish Setter, was copping a nuzzle.
Discussion ensued. Faire Hilda is spinning in her grave. My parents too, probably; although my mother became depressed I was estranged.
44&1/2 years I was married to the best friend I ever had. The fact she actually liked me meant I could avoid attractive ladies. Now that she’s gone I find pretty ladies attracted to me.
“I am 74, ya know,” I said.
“Ya don’t look it,” she said.
“Oh stop!” I said.
“Do you walk every day?”
“As much as I can. That’s why I got this dog. He’s a divorce-victim. Poor guy had to give up his dog, and I got him.”
Again, Faire Hilda is spinning in her grave. 14,000 rpm! Harness her and my parents and they could power all of south Floridy.

• My beloved wife of over 44 years died of cancer April 17th, 2012. I still miss her. Best friend I ever had, and after my childhood I needed one. She actually liked me.