Another “pretty eyes” encounter

—“Are you who I think you are?” I asked the lady who came into my doctor’s lobby to sanitize chairs.
Our eyes met as she turned toward me.
“Yes, you are who I thought you might be.” We were wearing masks per COVID-19.
“It’s your eyes,” I said. “I never knew your name, but I recognize your eyes.
Now, dare I say this? You have pretty eyes!”
“WHY THANK YOU!” she gushed.
“Yer not the first one who thanked me,” I exclaimed.
“I’ve told many women they have pretty eyes, when they have pretty eyes, and no one has smacked me yet.”
“Well of course not!” My hairdresser says. “You haven’t made some sleazy remark; you noticed their eyes.”
“And that’s what I always notice first,” I'd say.
“Flat as a board,” male friends tell me. Plus this particular lady was overweight.
But “the eyes are the window to the soul,” a lady-friend told me once.
“You look like someone I could talk to,” I’d say.
Her eyes were smiling, and to me that’s what matters.
The other day I noticed a girl in the supermarket parking-lot. Skinny as a rail, yet blessed with a gigantic rack.
To me that would be a distraction.
“Is that real?” I’d ask myself.
How ya supposed to talk smothered in boobies?
To me talking is primary; everything else is secondary. A lady might say something worth thinking about.
If she smiles at me, I am done!
I've had it happen. A complete stranger, but she kept smiling at me.