So be it!

Yr Fthfl Srvnt is pulling the plug.
It’s somewhat the fault of my lady-friend, but mainly me, compliments of Hilda Q. Walton.
Depressing as Hell!
Hilda is founder of the Hilda Q. Walton School of Gender Relations. Together with my Bible-beating parents, Hilda convinced me all men, including me, were despicable. I was about 5.
My parents heartily agreed. I was already rebellious and of-the-Devil because I couldn’t worship my father. Hilda’s husband, a hotshot engineer for RCA, was probably frogging around.
Together with my parents Faire Hilda helped found the church our family attended.
“No pretty girl will ever wanna meet you!”
I also was happily married 44&1/2 years to a girl who claimed she liked me. It seemed she did. Add that to Hilda’s input, and I been cut off from females about 70 years.
This “lady-friend” is one of the few I befriended after my wife died. A few months ago she wanted to meet my new dog. She has a dog herself, so suggested we walk our dogs at a nearby park.
So began three consecutive weekends walking our dogs at that park. As far as I know she’s married — it sounds like she is — but no sign of her husband ever.
That had me worried. My hairdresser suggested she was lonely. “I don’t think so,” I said. To me, this lady is class.
I decided maybe I should be more forthcoming = a mistake! With Hilda every male/female relationship has evil connotation. Merely enjoying one’s company was suspect. Throw in my being cut off from females since childhood, and I’m likely to blow it.
This lady and I have a professional relationship. So I have her phone-number, and it happens to be her personal iPhone.
So began a torrent of texts, many “forthcoming,” many which I regret, but texts can’t be retracted.
I don’t have phone-numbers of other ladies I befriended. Which is fortunate, since it keeps me from being “forthcoming.”
One lady was a pleasant surprise. She said hello to me out of the clear blue sky, so I set about cranking enough nerve to say hello back. Not easy for a Hilda grad.
I’m glad I did. Our friendship blossomed despite my numerous faux pas — all a result of being cut off from females so long.
And fortunately I don’t have her phone-number, so can’t goof up like I did with this other lady.
“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on...” quoting the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám.
Tragic! And I blame Faire Hilda more than anything.
A constant-reader will criticize my dredging up Hilda again — by doing so I return to negative perception of my childhood.
I’m fighting Hilda and my parents, and am surprised at the success I’ve had. Then too the person I am now is no longer who I was earlier.
With luck this lady never knew this was going on — I hope she doesn’t.

• Hilda Q. Walton was my next-door neighbor and Sunday-School Superintendent when I was a child. “Q” stands for Quincy, her maiden-name.
• RCA is Radio Corporation of America, defunct.