Opening lines:

—Dealing with ladies, especially pretty ones, is entirely new to This Kid. And 70 years late.
It’s my early childhood, whereby my hyper-religious Sunday-School superintendent neighbor told me all males, including me at age-five, were SCUM!
Had my parents, also hyper-religious, come to my defense, that neighbor woulda crashed mightily in flames.
They heartily agreed. I was rebellious and disgusting because I couldn’t worship my holier-than-thou father.
So all my life I kept to myself. I especially avoided women. I was unworthy.
A few years ago, as I began aquatic balance-training at my local YMCA, an attractive lifeguard there said hello to me by name, which began confused recovery from my tortured childhood.
A lot has happened since then, all of which made me more confident dealing with women.
I’ve experienced incredible and mind-blowing successes. I’ve made many more lady friends than I ever expected, many of them gorgeous or extremely cute.
I had a dog that helped = my four-legged chick-magnet. He wasn’t afraid of pretty girls, so he got me used to talking to pretty girls.
I lost that dog over three months ago, but I can still talk to pretty girls.
Following are some of the opening lines I use to strike up a conversation with a pretty lady:
—1) (And this actually happened:)
“Can I request a favor?” I asked the pretty self-checkout attendant at my supermarket, as she walked away.
“Can you please turn around and look me straight in the eye?”
She did, and “WOW!” I said. “Your eyes are gorgeous.”
“Why thank you!” she gushed.
She didn’t smack me, or tell me to buzz off.
—2) (This happened too:)
“I almost said something in the store, but you got away.
So now here we are out in this parking-lot, and your eyes are gorgeous.”
“Why thank you!” again.
I bet she went home and told her husband some dude told her she had gorgeous eyes.
—3) (This also happened:)
I went to a local restaurant to pick up takeout I ordered over the phone.
A pretty young girl brought out my takeout, our eyes met, and “WOW!
I hafta say something. I’m 76 years old, and you’re a pretty girl.”
(BLUSH!)
I told her that? After the childhood I had?
And she didn’t become nervous, or tell me to get lost.
What made it work is not saying “how ‘bout it, honey?”
—4) (This happened too:)
“If I’d known you were up here, I woulda used self-checkout instead of a checkout lane.”
She’s married, I’m sure. But we laugh and talk and enjoy each other.
“I see your name is *****. I’m no good at names, but I’ll remember that!” I said.
—5) (Most extraordinary is:)
I’m hiking a nearby rail-trail, and a pretty young jogger approaches.
“You can do it!” I say to myself. “Strike up a conversation! She’s pretty, but you’ve done it before.”
“I used to do that myself,” I said; a really dumb opening line.
“Running?” she asked, after which OFF WE WENT! “Yada-yada-yada-yada-yada!”10-15 minutes of joyous yammering.
Finally, “I am so glad I said something to you! Ten years ago I wouldna.”
“I'm glad you did too,” she said. “I hope we meet again. You are perfect,”
(Me, the lifelong scumbag?)
Of course I was perfect = I wasn’t propositioning her. I was allowing her to talk equally with a male.
She didn’t hafta defend herself.
—6) (Also extraordinary:)
A while ago I’m hiking another rail-trail along with my dog that’s now gone, and I encountered another lady walking her dog the other direction.
We struck up a conversation, which lasted almost a half-hour.
She smiled and smiled and smiled at me. Finally I told her I really liked her smiling at me, wanting her to keep it up.
We were really striking sparks. She became embarrassed we were having so much fun just talking it was unfair to her husband, who wasn’t there.
She was lighting up the woods with her smile — and our dogs were going nuts: “we wanna hunt!”
—7) (Another smile encounter that actually happened:)
A 40-ish lady bicyclist was resting on a rock where I turn around on that nearby rail-trail. She was about 400 yards away when I first saw her, and I think she waited to see if I’d strike up a conversation before she left. (That’s 10-15 minutes.)
I made it, and we began talking.
She smiled and smiled and smiled some more. I can still visualize her smiling at me.
She wasn’t that pretty, but her smile was ravishing.
Probably 10-15 minutes of continuous yammering: bouncing things back-and-forth between each other.
“We could talk forever, and it sure would be fun. But errands await!”
—8) (An imaginary encounter, partly real:)
An older lady sat down with another lady outside the supermarket I use in Honeoye Falls.
She gave me a side-long glance as I walked by, so I wheeled around and said hello to her.
Smile, smile, smile, smile! She was lighting up the entire parking lot!
“You’re smiling at me,” I said.
“Always,” she cooed.
Had that other lady not been there, the following woulda happened:
“Would you mind if I sat down across from you?” I’d ask. “I don’t know you from the Moon, but you keep smiling at me!
Let’s talk. Tell me about yourself! I’m all ears!”
—9) (And finally, all imaginary = all in my head:)
“I don’t know your name,” I would say to the pretty lady who takes my temperature per COVID-19 in the lobby outside Thompson Hospital’s Physical-Therapy department.
“To me you’re the ‘temperature lady.’ I always hope it’s you, and here’s why:
I know you, and you know me, which means, I hope, perhaps we could talk.
If that makes you nervous, I don’t wanna make you nervous.”
Weeks ago I told her she had pretty eyes, but that made her nervous; she’s extremely pretty, which would make her attractive to loathsome lotharios.
I left her alone for a while, but now she seems more talkative.
“Okay,” I would say. “Even only 15 words is more fun than nothing.
Let’s talk! That seems to be what women want most; and men don’t. Especially if they’re strangers. Men get defensive, or start pulling that macho-crap on you.
I have way more lady friends than I ever expected, and it seems that’s because I encourage ‘em to talk. We bat things back-and-forth, and it’s great fun.
The fact you’re extremely beautiful is sorta irrelevant = it only counters my sordid childhood.
What matters is TALK — the simple back-and-forth exchange of emotions = make ‘em laugh, make ‘em smile!
All my lady friends are talkative — and I was sanctimoniously told no lady would ever talk to me!”