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—“I never can get outta this store without striking sparks with some pretty lady.”
I thought that to myself as I trudged my supermarket in search of groceries.
We were all wearing masks per COVID-19, which forces us to notice eyes. I never noticed before, but my supermarket is awash in eyes, many of them gorgeous.
Sparkling eyes below stridently gray hair, young girls with pretty eyes, although their eyes are less vibrant.
After buying a pizza-slice for Saturday, I decided to spoon out lentil-chili for Sunday.
The chili goes into a cardboard container, and a lady was trying to separate out a container.
The stack was giving her 10-or-more containers. She fumbled a bit, ending up with three. She fished out one, then handed me the other two.
“No comment,” I said as we continued, hoping my saying that would project positively.
She then walked around me to another soup offering, and began ladling out that.
“Well I do have one comment,” I said, since we seemed to be talking to each other.
“Go ahead; say it!” a little voice inside me whispered. “Tell her she has pretty eyes,” and they were pretty. They sparkled.
“And your comment is……” the lady asked.
“We’re all wearing these masks,” I said. “That forces us to notice eyes.”
Hem-Haw, as I tried to get my nerve up.
Finally, “You have pretty eyes!”
Did she smack me?
No!
“Why thank you!” she gushed.
Not the first time I heard that. I could give numerous examples where I made similar compliments that ended with “why thank you!”
“Well of course she didn’t smack you,” my hairdresser would say. “You didn’t tell her she had an appealing rack!”
Yes, what got my attention was her eyes; as always.
Our eyes meet for a few seconds, then “she looks like someone I could talk to!”
My male friends tell me I have it all wrong: what matters is all the other stuff = what’s sexually attractive.
“NOPE!” I shout. “Talking with women is a lot more fun. They smile and smile and laugh with me, plus they’re likely to say something worth hearing.
“You keep telling ladies they have pretty eyes, and someday yer gonna get bit,” a friend tells me.
I hesitate, but gimme an opening! And I guess I’m more inclined to set up openings myself = strike up a conversation.
I bet that lady goes home and tells her husband some coot told her she had pretty eyes, and he wasn’t hittin’ on her.
I.e. it made her smile.