“Take the chance!”

—“Go take your walk,” said my Facebook “friend” from St. Louis, the only FB “friend” I’ve never met, and probably never will.
“Take the chance!” is that tiny small voice in the back of my head, encouraging me to be more forthcoming with females.
“Go to Hell, Bobby!” That’s my hyper-religious Sunday-School superintendent neighbor, the infamous Hilda Q. Walton, who convinced me all males, including me at age-five, were SCUM.
“You’ve had so many wonderful experiences taking that chance,” says that tiny voice. “She’s a lady, but don’t be afraid. You can do it — you’ve done it before.
Do it, do it, do it!”
“Do not pass Go, do not collect $200! Fiery furnace for you, Bobby!”
“If you were out here,” I “messaged” her; “I’d hope you would join me, and we would talk, talk, talk, talk, and talk some more.”
Apparently my saying that — my taking that chance — didn’t bomb.
“Here’s to taking that walk one day…,” she “messaged” back about an hour later, along with two emoticons.
A few weeks ago, hiking a nearby rail-trail, a pretty young jogger approached from the other direction.
“Do it!” that little voice said. “She’s a pretty girl, but strike up a conversation. You can do it. Don’t be afraid; you’ve done it before.
“I used to do that,” I said to her as she approached.
“Running?” she asked. She stopped and removed her earplugs.
And OFF-WE-WENT! “Yada-yada-yada-yada-yada.” 10-15 minutes of joyous yammering.
Finally, “I am so glad I said something to you,” I said to her. “Striking up a conversation always works.”
“I’m glad you did too,” she said. “You are perfect.”
(Me? The lifelong scumbag?)
Of course I’m perfect. We talk and laugh and talk some more.
And most importantly, perhaps, I’m not on-the-make.
I met her again later, and this time it was her striking up a conversation. Never before in my entire life has a pretty girl struck up a conversation with me. (“No pretty lady will ever associate with you!”)
“Now that the zealots are dead,” my St. Louis friend said a while ago; “we can be our own judge = decide our worth on our own terms.”
Easier-said-than-done, when the ghost of Faire Hilda keeps putting me down.
I could detail some of the future chances I’m considering with a few of my other lady-friends, or would-be lady-friends.
But that’s another blog.