“Women.....”

Yrs Trly and a guy I worked with at the Mighty Mezz — he was an editor — are having an e-mail discussion about women.
“Women, can't live with ‘em ... pass the beer nuts,” he says, quoting a line from a TV sitcom.
I, on the other hand, am surprised I seem to have women eating out of my hand. I’m probably dreamin’, but it’s like they’re fighting over me.
I’m beginning to think it’s because I’m not in pursuit. I’m also old enough to be harmless.
I live alone since my wife died. It’s irksome at times: laundry, cooking, dust, etc. But I’m fairly happy; I don’t need a woman.
I.e. I entertain myself. My counselor tells me I’m lucky to have so many interests, and enjoy writing as much as I do. Most retirees are bored silly.
I certainly enjoy the company and approval of women. But I don’t need it. I’m self-fulfilled. This frees women from having to fend off some drooling lecher. Ladies can talk to me about anything.
And in my humble opinion (“IMHO”), that’s all they ever want mostly. I’m an easy talker, funny, plus no good at macho posturing. The other day 15+ LOUD Harleys assaulted a gas-station I use. Macho swagger! “Uh-oh,” I said to the clerk, a pretty young teenybopper.
I eat out once a week with a widow who like me lost her beloved marriage mate. She told me about a Jane Fonda/Robert Redford flick: “Our Souls at Night.” Fonda and Redford play aging neighbors bereaved of their long-time marriage-mates.
Fonda calls Redford. “I miss someone to sleep with.” Get past all the sexual connotations, and it makes sense. I sleep with my dog, and slept alone before him.
But I understand Fonda’s character missing a bedmate. Fonda appears in her nightgown, Redford in his pajamas, and together they climb into bed.
Forget sex; they’re too old for that.
But nighttime company I understand. I wouldn’t mind having it myself. Fortunately I have a dog who follows me room-to-room.
I have female friends, but a nighttime companion is not needed. Furthermore, I entertain myself. Every morning as I sit down to eat breakfast my pencil comes out, my legal-pad goes down, and I start slingin’ words (write).
Later I hafta key into this laptop. A woman could be a distraction.
Shooting-the-breeze with a lady is pleasant, but could get in the way. Far-be-it I hafta shut the poor girl out.
I find myself having amazing success. Women love shooting-the-breeze, it seems, without having to parry some dirty-old-man.
It’s a shame I had to lose my soulmate to see this.

• The “Mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired almost 13 years ago. Best job I ever had — I was employed there almost 10 years — over 11 if you count my time as a post-stroke unpaid intern. (I had a heart-defect caused stroke October 26th, 1993, from which I recovered fairly well. That defect was repaired.) (“Canandaigua” is a small city nearby where I live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” —It’s about 14 miles away.)