Down days with my lady friends

—It had to happen.
So many positives perhaps I got overconfident.
So any attempt by me to strike sparks with a pretty lady fell flat.
I also been told I celebrate my incredible successes with pretty ladies too much.
It’s because long ago I was told “no pretty lady will have anything to do with you!”
So now when some pretty lady enjoys my company, and so many do, I am blown away.
I tell some complete stranger she has gorgeous eyes and she is touched.
I strike up a conversation with a pretty young jogger, and she is thrilled. I’m not hitting on her; we’re just talking. And I encourage her to talk to me. I don’t solicit her talking to me; I just let her talk.
I tell her I am so happy I struck up a conversation with her, and she tells me she’s similarly happy.
She tells me she hopes we meet again. We meet again two weeks later and she talks first. Totally unexpected with my history: “no pretty girl will talk to you!”
Once I met a bicyclist resting on a rock — I think she waited for me. She wasn’t that pretty but her smile was ravishing! We talked and talked and talked and talked. And she smiled and smiled and smiled! I don’t think she was faking it. Extravagant eye-contact, and she smiled and smiled and smiled.
She seemed thrilled I was talking to her. Her eyes were smiling, and I still can visualize her smile.
She basked in my listening to her, i.e. I considered her attractive.
The past couple days were not that way.
—First I would strike sparks with my two pretty lady-friends in the lobby beside Thompson Hospital’s Physical-Therapy department.
They been there since Thompson Physical-Therapy reopened after closing due to COVID-19.
Both are attractive, but one, ******, is extremely attractive. Young and cute, extremely cute.
The other girl has prettier eyes, but looks heavy. ****** isn’t.
I’d show them a humorous photo on my iPhone, except with masks “Facial-Recognition” no longer works.
Login (getting the phone working) is by entering a password on its virtual keyboard, and my fingering is spastic.
At least seven or eight failed attempts = 15-20 minutes.
So much for my quick laugh. The poor girls were left waiting for me.
By the time I got to our laugh, we were climbing the walls. By then pretty ****** was faking interest.
I don’t think I lost either, but never again.
“Happy to see ya,” and that will be all.
“Talk to me if you wish.”
—Next would be my pretty lifeguard-friend at Canandaigua’s YMCA swimming-pool.
“I been thinking about you,” I said to her.
What a stupid way to start a conversation with a lady.
“Don’t worry, it was clean,” I shouted. By now she was looking off into the distance.
I indeed had been thinking about her, that she was retirement age. She told me she’s 65.
“Sooner-or-later you’re gonna leave this place, and I’ll probably never see you again in my entire life.”
That’s a repeat of a similar discussion I had with my pretty college-age friend at the kennel that daycared my dog when he was still alive.
That discussion was over four months ago, and “I’m not going anywhere.”
I haven’t seen her since.
**** and I were great friends. So too is my lifeguard friend.
We’d laugh and smile at each other; mainly talk. By just talking to her I was telling her I liked her, that I found her attractive. —Which she liked.
My lifeguard friend is rather reserved. Maybe she has to be considering the responsibility she carries.
But sometimes we talk, and when she smiles at me I am smitten.
It’s my hoary childhood: “no pretty lady will smile at you!”
The next time I meet my pretty lifeguard-friend she makes the first move.
If I’ve lost her, well, so be it. I get what I deserve.
“Happy to see ya,” is about all I’ll say, unless we can still talk — and I hope we can.
—Last would be my vaunted aquacise-instructor, a cute little sprite for age 61. She’s definitely not a Harley-mama; in fact, she’s tiny.
Unfortunately she’s the lady I made all the mistakes with.
She was the first cutie-pie who smiled at me. I’m sure my wife did too, but I never noticed. That was a mess I was back then.
Then that aquacise-instructor wanted to walk dogs with me, which to someone with my history was the equivalent of a date.
Mistakes piled up. It seems she wants me to remain interested, but not too interested; since she’s married.
It’s probably her nature: she wants me to remain interested even though I pretty much avoid her anymore.
Here I am trying to not be too interested, yet there she is trying to strike up a conversation with me.
She picked the worst guy in the world to wanna walk dogs with = the dude messed up by hyper-religious zealots.
Nevertheless she was a female success over the past couple days.
Another would be pretty *****, head honcho of my nearby supermarket pharmacy.
Pretty ***** is married, and not gorgeous.
But she’s pretty enough to be a lady I woulda avoided years ago. She is probably the first pretty lady I ever befriended.
That is, I wanted to become friends with her, and succeeded.
Were it not for *****, that aquacise-instructor woulda scared me away.
Perhaps a week ago I was bothering *****’s pharmacy regarding COVID-19 vaccination, and I wanted to talk to pretty *****.
But she was on the phone, and couldn’t talk right then. So I said I’d come back later.
When I returned it looked like she was still on the phone, so I said I’d just say hello.
BOINK! “I’m not on the phone,” she said as she ran toward me.
Pretty ***** wants to talk to me! (She’s running across her pharmacy toward me.)
I’m not used to this readers: “no pretty lady will desire your company!”
Her wanting to talk to me the other day was not the first time. She’s hung with me before, surprising the daylights outta me.
We’ll see what happens next week: so many successes.
****** wants to talk, pretty ***** wants to talk, and that aquacise-instructor seems to wanna talk. Hopefully my pretty lifeguard friend will too.
If not, complete strangers are smitten when I tell them they have gorgeous eyes. —I had one yesterday at the Pittsford-Plaza Wegmans.
And no one has smacked me yet!
I am rather lost: no contact with women through 70+ years.