Flirt-alert

—“I been here a couple hours, and haven’t had a chance to say hello yet.”
I said that to my aquacise-instructor at Canandaigua’s YMCA swimming-pool.
She smiled. It seemed she liked my paying attention.
To my mind that’s a flirt, something I couldn’t do 10 years ago.
A lot changed since my wife died. I got so I could talk to pretty ladies.
As you all know Yrs Trly is a graduate of the Hilda Q. Walton School of Gender Relations.
Hilda was my next-door neighbor and hyper-religious Sunday-School Superintendent when I was a child. Together with my hyper-religious parents she convinced me all males, including me at age-5, were despicable. (Her husband was probably fooling around.)
As a result I was lifelong scared of pretty ladies. “NO PRETTY LADY WILL TALK TO YOU!”
My wife liked me from the get-go. I didn’t hafta win her; I woulda been clueless trying.
I’m sure that aquacise-instructor, among most other females, was proposed to on bended knee, and given a diamond engagement-ring.
I didn’t do that, and not because I was too cheap. I didn’t know how.
“NO PRETTY LADY WILL BE INTERESTED IN YOU!”
I felt totally unworthy, surprised my wife-to-be was interested in me.
She stayed with me 44&1/2 years, despite how messed up I was. Cancer took her eight years ago. I’m still devastated. BEST friend I ever had.
My counselor tells me my wife knew I was a good person. She stayed with me despite how messy I was.
But now she’s gone, and I find myself befriending pretty ladies I earlier thought wanted no part of me.
That aquacise-instructor, who is cute for her age, wanted to walk dogs with me. Not me with her, it was her with me.
This was totally amazing. Thanks to Hilda, etc, plus a wife who liked me from the get-go, I felt unworthy all-my-life.
Flirting I’m not used to, but I do it a lot. Get the lady to smile. They eat it up, and so do I.
Hilda and my parents spin in their graves: “NO PRETTY LADY WILL SMILE AT YOU!”
Sorry, but it’s pleasant for both me and the pretty lady. It makes us both feel good.
I’ve had that happen with so many ladies I do it quite often. Call it “flirting” if you want. They like the attention. Some dude is noticing. —In other words, “I find you worth talking to.”
I walk into my counselor’s office. “Well lookity-who! It’s my favorite receptionist. I know you.”
She smiles. “I’m ready for ya!”
“Oh brother,” I say. (Make ‘em laugh, and she does.)
That aquacise-instructor and I are worlds apart, but I love making her smile. So much can go wrong. Social interchange with the opposite sex is often messy. But occasionally I get that aquacise-instructor smiling.

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—“‘Flirting’ is not just talking to a lady,” a friend insisted. “You’re letting Hilda define your terms. Just shooting the breeze with someone of the opposite sex is not by nature evil and disgusting.
Maybe it was to Hilda, but Hilda was WRONG.
‘Flirting’ is trying to get a date.”
“Yeah, but ‘flirting’ is such fun,” I said. “Plus it has Hilda and her self-righteous power-mongers spinning in their graves.
To me, talking to a pretty lady is very rewarding, and 10 years ago I was unable to do it.
I’m not on-the-make, so I’m not trying to get a date.
To me, talking to a pretty lady is flirting. But my friend has a point.

• I do aquatic balance training in the Canandaigua YMCA’s swimming-pool, two hour classes per week — plus a third hour on my own.