Brave New World
Much to the angry chagrin of my hyper-religious parents and Sunday-School Superintendent neighbor, Yr Fthfl Srvnt has befriended three females at the Canandaigua YMCA swimming-pool where I do balance-training.
“No female will ever talk to you!” I was told. I was about five = easily convinced. That was my neighbor, whose husband was probably fooling around. My parents heartily agreed, since I was already rebellious and of-the-Devil because I couldn’t worship my father as worthy of the right hand of Jesus.
They marked me for life, and now 70 years late I’m finding they were full-of-it.
My mother mellowed as I got older, but she still hit me with “Don’t get smart!” while I was in college.
—Now to take my silly dog, a rescue Irish Setter, on Lehigh Valley rail-trail. The remainder of this blog will come to mind as I walk in solitude through “the wooded cathedral.” No power-lines, no buildings, no civilization whatsoever. Just me and my lunging hunter, smelling all-and-sundry, and barking at phantoms — or perhaps invisible squirrels.
The Hughes muse never shuts up, and solitude is where I conjure these blogs. Driving, walking my dog, just before getting out of bed. Now it’s while eating breakfast.
—My first female contact at that pool was my aquacise-therapist, although it was just professional at first. She’s cute, in fabulous shape, and has a wonderful smile. I wish I could smile like her. A forced smile is not the same as a real smile.
She’s probably in her late 50s; if not early 60s. First it was one-on-one, but then I graduated (?) to her beginning balance-training class.
Then a while ago she wanted to meet my new dog — the dog who replaced my (our) previous Irish Setter who I sadly put down at age-13.
That aquacise-therapist is also a dog-person — she has a Samoyed. We walked our dogs three weekends in quick succession at a lakeside Canandaigua park.
This prompted “Oooo-la-la” from my hairdresser. “She’s lonely, Bob.”
“She is not!” I snapped. “She’s happily married as far as I know, and I ain’t lookin’.”
Another friend I often eat out with, a widow I met because we both lost our beloveds, also weighed in. “Bob, if you like walking your dog so much with ****** ****, you should tell her.”
Around-and-around we went, at least a half-hour. Finally “Okay, ******, if you say so.”
This prompted the stupidest mistake I ever made. “Forthcoming” is not me. Too many texts; that aquacise-therapist and I both have iPhones, plus I have her phone-number from her business-card.
Often I regret having that phone-number.
-My second and third contacts both lifeguard that pool. A few months ago one said hello to me by name in passing, and although I hardly heard her, I managed the nerve to say hello back. “Did you not say hello to me earlier?” “Yes.” “I’m late, but hello back.” This was instead of running scared into the locker-room as I woulda done 10 years ago — cue Sunday-School Superintendent.
There were predecessors, but I’m awfully glad I did that. This lady is 63 years old, but statuesque = in stellar shape. “No pretty girl will talk to you,” but that lifeguard is pretty.
She looks 40-ish on her lifeguard stand, and I’m sure other geezers have tried to “hit-on-her.” I’m careful what I say; yet despite my many flubs she keeps talking to me.
-My third contact I met on a Saturday afternoon a few months ago. No class on Saturday = I’m on-my-own. I struck up a conversation out of the clear blue sky: “I see you were named after the transmissions our buses used.”
“You got that backwards,” she said. “Them transmissions were named after me.”
Those lifeguards write their names on a poolside bulletin-board. “I see yer name has only one ‘L’,” I said. “Our bus-trannies had two.”
“Yeah; they spelled it wrong!”
WOW! Quick! She’s not as physically attractive as the other two, but she’s great fun to talk to. Those lifeguards are often not on duty, but I hope they’re there when I show. (I also don’t bother them if they’re busy — swimmers could drown in that pool.)
Both are fun to talk to, especially that second lifeguard. She’s not defensive, and I ain’t some drooling lothario. I’m sure that first lifeguard had to fend off weirdos, so she has every right to be leery.
So here I am; no longer as frightened of women as I was while married. I was extremely lucky to marry a girl who liked me, reversing my Sunday-School Superintendent neighbor, plus my badmouthing parents, who I eventually left.
So now, 70+ years late I’m befriending ladies like crazy. If I bomb, it’s no longer my fault. If I be myself I got ladies eating out of my hand.
I always tell that first lifeguard she started it. But having enough nerve to respond is what really started it.
• “Lehigh Valley rail-trail” was a link, dear readers. So was that! Click it and yer browser will take you to my Lehigh Valley rail-trail blog.
• For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS) in Rochester, NY, a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and environs. My heart-defect caused stroke October 26th, 1993 ended that. I retired on medical-disability, and that defect was repaired. I recovered well enough to return to work at a newspaper; I retired from that over 13 years ago.
“No female will ever talk to you!” I was told. I was about five = easily convinced. That was my neighbor, whose husband was probably fooling around. My parents heartily agreed, since I was already rebellious and of-the-Devil because I couldn’t worship my father as worthy of the right hand of Jesus.
They marked me for life, and now 70 years late I’m finding they were full-of-it.
My mother mellowed as I got older, but she still hit me with “Don’t get smart!” while I was in college.
—Now to take my silly dog, a rescue Irish Setter, on Lehigh Valley rail-trail. The remainder of this blog will come to mind as I walk in solitude through “the wooded cathedral.” No power-lines, no buildings, no civilization whatsoever. Just me and my lunging hunter, smelling all-and-sundry, and barking at phantoms — or perhaps invisible squirrels.
The Hughes muse never shuts up, and solitude is where I conjure these blogs. Driving, walking my dog, just before getting out of bed. Now it’s while eating breakfast.
—My first female contact at that pool was my aquacise-therapist, although it was just professional at first. She’s cute, in fabulous shape, and has a wonderful smile. I wish I could smile like her. A forced smile is not the same as a real smile.
She’s probably in her late 50s; if not early 60s. First it was one-on-one, but then I graduated (?) to her beginning balance-training class.
Then a while ago she wanted to meet my new dog — the dog who replaced my (our) previous Irish Setter who I sadly put down at age-13.
That aquacise-therapist is also a dog-person — she has a Samoyed. We walked our dogs three weekends in quick succession at a lakeside Canandaigua park.
This prompted “Oooo-la-la” from my hairdresser. “She’s lonely, Bob.”
“She is not!” I snapped. “She’s happily married as far as I know, and I ain’t lookin’.”
Another friend I often eat out with, a widow I met because we both lost our beloveds, also weighed in. “Bob, if you like walking your dog so much with ****** ****, you should tell her.”
Around-and-around we went, at least a half-hour. Finally “Okay, ******, if you say so.”
This prompted the stupidest mistake I ever made. “Forthcoming” is not me. Too many texts; that aquacise-therapist and I both have iPhones, plus I have her phone-number from her business-card.
Often I regret having that phone-number.
-My second and third contacts both lifeguard that pool. A few months ago one said hello to me by name in passing, and although I hardly heard her, I managed the nerve to say hello back. “Did you not say hello to me earlier?” “Yes.” “I’m late, but hello back.” This was instead of running scared into the locker-room as I woulda done 10 years ago — cue Sunday-School Superintendent.
There were predecessors, but I’m awfully glad I did that. This lady is 63 years old, but statuesque = in stellar shape. “No pretty girl will talk to you,” but that lifeguard is pretty.
She looks 40-ish on her lifeguard stand, and I’m sure other geezers have tried to “hit-on-her.” I’m careful what I say; yet despite my many flubs she keeps talking to me.
-My third contact I met on a Saturday afternoon a few months ago. No class on Saturday = I’m on-my-own. I struck up a conversation out of the clear blue sky: “I see you were named after the transmissions our buses used.”
“You got that backwards,” she said. “Them transmissions were named after me.”
Those lifeguards write their names on a poolside bulletin-board. “I see yer name has only one ‘L’,” I said. “Our bus-trannies had two.”
“Yeah; they spelled it wrong!”
WOW! Quick! She’s not as physically attractive as the other two, but she’s great fun to talk to. Those lifeguards are often not on duty, but I hope they’re there when I show. (I also don’t bother them if they’re busy — swimmers could drown in that pool.)
Both are fun to talk to, especially that second lifeguard. She’s not defensive, and I ain’t some drooling lothario. I’m sure that first lifeguard had to fend off weirdos, so she has every right to be leery.
So here I am; no longer as frightened of women as I was while married. I was extremely lucky to marry a girl who liked me, reversing my Sunday-School Superintendent neighbor, plus my badmouthing parents, who I eventually left.
So now, 70+ years late I’m befriending ladies like crazy. If I bomb, it’s no longer my fault. If I be myself I got ladies eating out of my hand.
I always tell that first lifeguard she started it. But having enough nerve to respond is what really started it.
• “Lehigh Valley rail-trail” was a link, dear readers. So was that! Click it and yer browser will take you to my Lehigh Valley rail-trail blog.
• For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS) in Rochester, NY, a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and environs. My heart-defect caused stroke October 26th, 1993 ended that. I retired on medical-disability, and that defect was repaired. I recovered well enough to return to work at a newspaper; I retired from that over 13 years ago.
posted by BobbaLew at 6:56 PM
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