I said that?

—“I hafta say this, if ya don’t mind.”
I said that to a pretty young girl delivering my outdoor takeout at a local restaurant.
“I notice your eyes; I can’t help it. I’m sorry, I’m 76 years old, and you’re a pretty girl.”
She smiled, and her eyes flashed.
I said that? After the childhood I had?
“No pretty girl will smile at you!” Yet this pretty girl is smiling at me.
And it wasn’t her other physical attributes I looked at — it was her eyes.
“You’re smiling at me. Mask or not, I can tell!”
More flashing eyes.
And no matter what anyone says to me, that’s a flirt.
A lot has changed since my wife died eight years ago. I got so I can flirt = talk to all women, who previously intimidated me.
My silly dog, now gone, got me there. He wasn’t scared of pretty girls, so he dragged me into meeting pretty girls.
“If I’d known you were out here, I woulda dragged him away.”
Then “oh what a pretty dog. Can I pet him?”
Then “here I am talking to yet another pretty girl.”
As I said to a friend later, I think the fact I noticed her eyes first was what made her feel good.
No Trump grab-ass. (Checkin’ out the merchandise.)
I think I made her feel pretty; it looked like I did.
That’s the key, readers. Make ‘em smile or make ‘em laugh; both of which make us all feel good.
And now after 70+ years I finally can do it.
It looked like I charmed that girl = got her endorphins flowing.