On hangin’ out with pretty ladies

—Yrs Trly has to get used to the idea a pretty lady may wanna hang out with me as much as I wanna hang out with her.
“No pretty lady will wanna hang out with you, Bobby! You are despicable!”
I noticed if I strike up a conversation with a pretty young girl, devoid of hitting on her, she likes that I was attracted by her enough to do that.
So now suppose (“Gimme that remote Luke! He’s a-doin’ that there thinkin’ again!”) I tell my lifeguard friend at Canandaigua’s YMCA swimming-pool I wanna tell her a tiny story.
I bet that pleases her — “he wants to tell me a story = I’m attractive!”
I’m making her feel good.
“Some day I got a tiny question for ya! It ain’t much. Not now, yer on duty!”
Readers, I just set her up. She wants to hear the question, and right now.
“Goodie! He wants to talk with me. Ergo, I’m attractive!”
Suddenly the girl wants to hang out with me. I just inferred she attracted me.
(“If any guy did that with me I’d call the Sheriff!”)
So of course my lifeguard friend came to my side — “that Hughes guy is fun to hang out with.” (“Impossible!”)
I have to get used to this readers. “No pretty lady will hang out with you” is in my past, but keeps holding me back.
After my childhood, it’s hard for me to imagine a pretty lady wanting to hang out with me.