Forbidden fruit

—Sixty-plus years after first being attracted to women, Yr Fthfl Srvnt finds himself attracted to women for pretty much the same reasons as long ago.
The attraction is partly sexual of course, but mainly it’s because women are forbidden fruit.
Long ago my hyper-religious Sunday-School superintendent neighbor, the infamous Hilda Q. Walton, convinced me no female would ever have anything to do with me.
I shouldn’t even try; females were verboten! Any interest I had in women was EVIL and salacious!
Things are much different since my wife died. Suddenly “forbidden fruit” wants to associate with me.
It’s thanks to my dog, who I lost last August. He got me used to interacting with pretty girls: “oh what a pretty dog! Can I pet him?”
Also, by “thinking too much” (“hand me the remote, Luke….”) I ascertained what works to engage pretty girls, and what doesn’t.
“I know you!” the opening line I’ve used hundreds of times. That tells the girl I wanna interact with her; and just talk, not sexually.
“You look familiar!” She smiles, and off we go!
Pointless yammering. “I wanna hear your voice, and you want me to be attracted to you.”
“YIPPEE! He wants to talk to me!”
The first girls to attract me, sixty-plus years ago, were ******* ******* and **** *******. (I remember their names.)
******* was a cute little sexpot, the daughter of an Air Force man who never was home.
She lived in a large dingy apartment-complex, and would sun herself in the courtyard in a strapless bathing suit (GASP).
She was fully aware of her sexual attractiveness, and drove all the little boys crazy, including me.
I’d ride my clunky bicycle over to those apartments so I could ride around looking for her.
I’m sure she was aware I was doing that, as was her cohort, who wasn’t as attractive.
Too bad I wasn’t who I am now. I woulda struck up a conversation.
Women love to talk, and I’m no longer scared of sexpot cutie-pies.
If anything, that cutie-pie appreciates that some innocent dude like me just wants to talk. I experience it like crazy!
My other female desire was **** *******, not a cute little sexpot, but attractive enough.
She lived in a tract-house, part of a new development north of the main drag. (We lived south.)
She was Jewish; my mother woulda been appalled.
I’d ride bicycle up there so I could watch her house. I hoped I’d see her. (They had a mega-finned ’56 Packard.)
One time she followed me down a street, hoping to talk to me, mayhap.
I was terrified! The idea of an attractive girl wanting to talk with me was utterly beyond comprehension.
I ran away! “No pretty girl will talk to you, Bobby! You are EVIL and filled with lust!”
So girls have always been “forbidden;” frightening even.
UNTIL RECENTLY!
I think of an incident that occurred just the other day. An example of the many fabulous female encounters I experienced since my wife died.
A couple weeks ago I struck up a conversation with a fairly attractive new lifeguard at Canandaigua’s YMCA swimming pool.
A week later she showed up again, and kept glancing at me.
She wasn’t making eyes, but I realized she wanted me to talk to her again.
Let her know she still attracted me; tell her by just wanting to talk to her a little.
Finally, “I know you!” She turned and smiled. I’d made her happy.
Every time I rethink these pleasant encounters I choke up.
“No female etc. etc.” But it keeps happening!
Would that 65 years ago I’d been who I am now.
******* woulda been worth a trial conversation, and I woulda let **** catch up.
The whole idea of an attractive girl wanting to associate with me was beyond imagining back then.
Not anymore! I strike up conversations with pretty girls willy-nilly!

• I do aquatic balance training in Canandaigua’s YMCA swimming-pool, currently one class per week — 45 minutes — less than usual due to COVID-19.
• During the ‘30s, Packard marketed some of the greatest automobiles of all time. Sadly, Packard never got around to manufacturing an el-cheapo entry-level automobile like the Big Three. By the 1950s, Packard was failing. Merged with Studebaker in 1954, S-P failed in the ‘60s. It stopped manufacturing automobiles in America in 1962; and lasted in Canada through 1966. The final Packards we’re essentially rebodied Studebakers.