Incredible daring

“I have a modest proposal,” I said Saturday, February 9th, to an aging widow in the YMCA swimming-pool.
Just after Christmas I struck up a conversation with this lady; her husband died 26 years ago.
“Uh-ohhh,” she said, smiling.
“You are a widow, and I’m a widower. I eat out most every week with another widow named ***** (‘Flowers by *****’). You may wish to join us. We all pay separately for our meals; there used to be three of us, but now it’s just me and *****. The other guy fell and was hospitalized. He also may have had a stroke, and can’t drive.
And if it’s hard for you to get around, I’ll pick you up.”
WOW! Did you read that? An act of incredible daring from a graduate of the Hilda Q. Walton School of Gender Relations, whereby any contact by a male toward a female is automatically EVIL.
“No women will ever wanna talk to you!” Hilda told me. My Bible-beating parents heartily agreed. I was already rebellious and of-the-Devil because I couldn’t worship my father as worthy of the right hand of Jesus.
I was about 4 or 5 at the time.
“No,” she said. “I have a car. What day do you eat out?”
“Usually Tuesday,” I said; “but sometimes Wednesday. ***** sets the date.”
“Sometimes I have grandchildren to baby-sit,” she said. But she seemed interested.
I texted *****. But the main thing is my doing this took nerve. Faire Hilda and my parents marked me for life. I also had a wife who actually liked me, making it possible for me to avoid women 44&1/2 years.
Since she died I find to my surprise that women beside my wife like me too = that Hilda and my parents were full-of-it.
Doing this wasn’t that hard. I did it before, so had practice. It’s a shame my wife can’t experience the person I became. Had she not died, I probably would still be as antisocial as I was while married.