She would have pushed you off by now
The other day my bereavement-counselor, who spends more time dealing with my tortured childhood than the death of my wife, made an interesting comment:
“If you’ve been friends with ****** **** more than two years” — “Nine-ten months since our dog-walks,” I corrected — “she would have cut you off by now.
But she hasn’t, which tells me she doesn’t think you’re as bad as you think you are.
I detect the ‘Hilda Q. Walton School of Gender Relations,’ which I thought we got past.”
“Uhm,” I said; “despite all the dumb, stupid things I did trying to be forthcoming? The Facebook messages, the blizzard of texts, etc?”
“She backed away,” my counselor added; “but she hasn’t pushed you away.”
“She never set boundaries,” I said. “Most others have.
And I kept it up, as if I had any idea what I was doing, after 44&1/2 years married to one who liked me from the get-go.
****** ****, et al, counter Hilda. ‘No pretty girl will talk to you,’ yet many do.
Here I am 70 years late finding Faire Hilda and my parents were WRONG.”
“And you get to live with how they left you,” my counselor added.
“Who I think of is *****, a lifeguard at the Canandaigua YMCA swimming-pool, where ****** **** is my aquatic balance-training instructor.
At age-63, ***** is what we dudes call “a looker.” Up-close-and-personal I see the crows-feet and wrinkles, but on her lifeguard-stand she’s in her 40s.
Months ago she said hello to me by name in passing, and despite my upbringing I got up the nerve to say hello back later.
Why in Hell’s name would she ever be interested in me? At age-75 I’m hardly Adonis. Apparently I’m interesting to talk to: “funny, and not boring as Hell,” I’m told.
And despite my many foulups ***** kept talking to me.
***** set boundaries, but she wasn’t blunt about it. She mentioned her husband in passing, but we kept on being friends. I walk into that pool, and here comes *****!
Others set boundaries too. With pretty *****, who heads my pharmacy, I actually met her husband. ******’s husband was walking behind her in my supermarket. (****** is another lifeguard.) She also mentioned him in passing.
I e-mailed another lady, and she responded mentioning her husband. That gets the onus off me; we can be friends unencumbered by all that silly boy/girl stuff.
But ****** **** never set boundaries. I wondered if her husband existed. I also wondered why I was getting away with what I was doing.
I inundated her with all-too-many texts, yet she responded to quite a few. I since cut way back, but she still often responds. I feel like I exploded in her face, yet she still hasn’t pushed me off.
We’re worlds apart. She’s absolute class, yet I’m the antithesis of class.”
“That’s what you think,” said my counselor. “If you were as awful as you think, she would have pushed you off by now.”
“If you’ve been friends with ****** **** more than two years” — “Nine-ten months since our dog-walks,” I corrected — “she would have cut you off by now.
But she hasn’t, which tells me she doesn’t think you’re as bad as you think you are.
I detect the ‘Hilda Q. Walton School of Gender Relations,’ which I thought we got past.”
“Uhm,” I said; “despite all the dumb, stupid things I did trying to be forthcoming? The Facebook messages, the blizzard of texts, etc?”
“She backed away,” my counselor added; “but she hasn’t pushed you away.”
“She never set boundaries,” I said. “Most others have.
And I kept it up, as if I had any idea what I was doing, after 44&1/2 years married to one who liked me from the get-go.
****** ****, et al, counter Hilda. ‘No pretty girl will talk to you,’ yet many do.
Here I am 70 years late finding Faire Hilda and my parents were WRONG.”
“And you get to live with how they left you,” my counselor added.
“Who I think of is *****, a lifeguard at the Canandaigua YMCA swimming-pool, where ****** **** is my aquatic balance-training instructor.
At age-63, ***** is what we dudes call “a looker.” Up-close-and-personal I see the crows-feet and wrinkles, but on her lifeguard-stand she’s in her 40s.
Months ago she said hello to me by name in passing, and despite my upbringing I got up the nerve to say hello back later.
Why in Hell’s name would she ever be interested in me? At age-75 I’m hardly Adonis. Apparently I’m interesting to talk to: “funny, and not boring as Hell,” I’m told.
And despite my many foulups ***** kept talking to me.
***** set boundaries, but she wasn’t blunt about it. She mentioned her husband in passing, but we kept on being friends. I walk into that pool, and here comes *****!
Others set boundaries too. With pretty *****, who heads my pharmacy, I actually met her husband. ******’s husband was walking behind her in my supermarket. (****** is another lifeguard.) She also mentioned him in passing.
I e-mailed another lady, and she responded mentioning her husband. That gets the onus off me; we can be friends unencumbered by all that silly boy/girl stuff.
But ****** **** never set boundaries. I wondered if her husband existed. I also wondered why I was getting away with what I was doing.
I inundated her with all-too-many texts, yet she responded to quite a few. I since cut way back, but she still often responds. I feel like I exploded in her face, yet she still hasn’t pushed me off.
We’re worlds apart. She’s absolute class, yet I’m the antithesis of class.”
“That’s what you think,” said my counselor. “If you were as awful as you think, she would have pushed you off by now.”
posted by BobbaLew at 7:43 PM
1 Comments:
Jesus Jones Hughes, if these women are single, ask them to have coffee some day, or a movie in an actual movie theater (dutch treat of course), or to a free band concert in some pavilion someplace. Who cares. What's the worst that could happen? They say no. Everybody needs somebody, even if only for a few hours of companionship.
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