Go figure

—Yrs Trly gives up blogging the super-zealots, and my readership plummets?
Perhaps there’s an audience eager to consider the posturings of the infamous Hilda Q. Walton and my hyper-religious parents.
For me, Hilda and my parents are history. They’re probably all dead.
Blogging Hilda etc. is also history.
Some readers decry my UNDERLINED, ALL-CAPS, SUPER-BOLD ranting that “no pretty female will hang out with/talk to/be interested in/smile at .…..you.”
I befriended so many pretty ladies I realize Faire Hilda and my parents were wrong.
Finding that out 70 years late is depressing. I missed so many.
Finding that out is also joyous.
Some readers told me they tired of my Hilda Q. Walton blogs. Guilty-as-charged! Too much celebratin’ my triumph over Hilda, etc.
When I was a teenager a church-deacon told me I was “degraded.” So I founded “Degraded-Youth-of-America” (DYA) to counter “Youth-for-Christ” (YFC), which I was forced to join.
Zealots were appalled; happy to declare me DISGUSTING. (There’s that all-caps, bold-face again…..)
I wasn't the least bit chagrined. I already knew I was disgusting.
To make a little boy question his very being is similarly disgusting.
Self-loathing continues, but I’ve gained too many lady-friends.
“I can’t imagine a person so awful,” a reader tells me. “You need to get over it.”
Of the thousands I’ve met during my 76 years, only two seem to understand — three if you include my bereavement-counselor.
She sees it. “Eye-Contact. When we started you couldn’t do that.”

• As a result of my wife dying eight years ago, I see a bereavement-counselor once a month. Mostly we talk about my childhood.