“Old man makes new friend”

—So said one line of something posted by a Facebook “friend.”
The “old man” is of course me. (Age-76.)
My “new friend” is only age-19.
“Watch it!” my hairdresser says. I, on the other hand, am amazed — and humbled.
She’s the new hire at my doggy-daycare kennel, where I have other female friends in their 30s or 40s.
She was leery at first: a lecherous old geezer with an attractive dog.
I wanted to tell her something. She looked anxiously at her boss, the cute co-owner of the kennel, who said “listen to him!”
“Yer gonna get married someday,” I told her. “Whatever you do, marry someone who can make ya laugh! My wife always told me the reason we lasted 44&1/2 years was because I made her laugh.”
Up-and-down and back-and-forth since. But now it seems she trusts me, and wants to talk.
Yada-yada-yada-yada-yada. Let ‘em talk. It’s what women want most. (And not some creep!)
“Tell me about it,” followed by; “it’s your life,” and “I’m old enough to be your grandfather.”
I think the reason she came to trust me is because I’m no longer in the hunt.
“What do I need a sweetie for?” I told a cousin once. “I already had one 44&1/2 years.”
She comes out to get my dog and strikes a pose. In other words “talk to me, make me laugh, make me feel good like you seem to do.”
No touchy! Or in the words of Trump’s legions no grab-ass.
“Yes, my friend, what you say matters. You’re not a dishrag to this kid.”
I could say she’s playing “keep-the-customer,” but I think not. My Facebook “friend’s” post seemed to say look for the good in people.