They’re cutting me slack

—“You are so compliant,” my friend said.
“*****,” I thought to myself; “you’re talking to me.”
***** being my pretty lifeguard friend at Canandaigua’s YMCA swimming-pool.
At this point my critics bellow “there is no way any girl would say anything to you! DREAMIN’!”
“Then how come I heard it with both ears?”
“You were hearing things = all made up!”
“She even repeated herself — she said that to me twice.”
Later she wanted me to finish what I started saying to her instead of doing something she might prefer.
In other words she was more interested in pleasing me than herself.
I’m not used to this, readers: “no pretty lady will ever be interested in you!”
***** is not gorgeous. But she’s attractive for age 65.
Three years ago I noticed she was attractive, but figgered there was no way under Heaven I could befriend her.
Now, despite numerous flubs and foul-ups, somehow or other we became friends.
So far eight consecutive encounters over the past 2-3 months. I’m always happy to see her, and think she’s happy to see me.
More than ***** seem to be at play at that swimming-pool.
With the childhood I had, and the continuing poor image I have of myself, I’m always surprised these ladies seem interested in me. “No pretty lady will ever be interested in you! You are DESPICABLE!”
Most of these lady-friends are married — ***** is.
Yet they all seem to wanna befriend me — which I’m not used to.
One friend, who I goofed up royally, seems to wanna keep talking to me.
I’m soon to be age-77, and I’m hardly a stud = way outta shape, 50 pounds overweight: “what in the wide-wide world would they ever see in me?”
LET ‘EM TALK!
I think that’s what it is. “Let’s just talk; and as equals. You’re likely to say something I wanna hear.
Forget romance; let’s just talk.”
And women love talking = once I start talking with them, I hafta shut us down = they won’t stop.
And no hittin’ on ‘em! Leave that to the loathsome lotharios.