“Those laps can wait!”

—“What in the wide, wide world can he possibly see in her?” people might ask.
“She’s 65 years old, and has wrinkly knees. Her face is full of wrinkles, and she’s gangly.”
On the other hand, every time I step out of the toilet-stall in the men’s locker-room at Canandaigua’s YMCA, and see myself in the mirror:
“What, pray tell, can she possibly see in me? I’m 77 years old, flabby, and my balance is awful. I’m way over the hill, although I don’t remember a hill.
Maybe we have ulterior motives: one perhaps being that she can still attract a little boy (me) despite her age.
(That “little boy” is 12 years older than her.)
With me it’s the fact she’s female. If I can attain and maintain her friendship, that counteracts my hoary childhood: that I was convinced at age-5 no female would ever have anything to do with me!
I think maybe it’s the fact we can talk. And that’s despite the many flubs I made with her, including a real zinger.
For whatever reason she hangs with me.
Sometimes I think it’s because I’m a charmer. My critics will guffaw loudly, but I noticed I make women happy.
My beloved wife, who died of cancer almost nine years ago, told me the reason we lasted 44&1/2 years, and some of her older female relatives insisted we wouldn’t make three months, is because I made her laugh.
“Make ‘em laugh!” Do that and they never walk away.
“How come that old geezer has them ladies hangin’ all over ‘im?”
Any romantic intent I had years ago after she first spoke to me is long gone.
Now it’s just “Happy to see ya! Hooray-hooray, let’s talk!
Maybe I’ll say something that makes you laugh or smile, which counteracts ‘No pretty lady will laugh or smile at you!’”
Or maybe she'll say something which makes me think.
I don’t play the “women-are-inferior” card. What matters is what’s between the ears, and women are just as mentally-inspiring as men — often more so. Women don’t play the macho card.
And it seems she wants to talk with me — “No pretty lady will talk to you!”
“I hope we can talk sometime,” I say.
SCREECH! That stops her in her tracks.
“You go swim your laps,” I say.
“I wanna hear your story first,” she’ll say. “Those laps can wait.”
I know I spin a pretty good story — I’m doing it now. Perhaps she likes that, but she can talk to me too.
That lady is not an easy smiler, but every once in a while POW! She leaves me speechless = WOW!
I fish for that. “No pretty lady will ever smile at you!”
And she, among others, does. Occasional, but WOW!
She’s rather impressive, so sometimes I feel like I overreached.
A cousin in NC, also female, tells me what really matters to women is whether a guy can talk — that is, whether he is willing to talk as equals. Sexual attractiveness of the guy means nothing.
Maybe it’s the fact we talk as equals. I love talking with her, and she keeps talking to me.
Often I feel unworthy, but that’s my childhood.
I’m interacting with a lady, and she’s impressive = amazing!