Girls-girls-girls-girls-girls

—70 years late Yr Fthfl Srvnt is discovering the wondrous joy of interacting with females.
Or more precisely: the fact women are attracted to me.
(“Impossible, and you know it! I would be SO GLAD to tell ya!”)
—The first thing I do when I enter Canandaigua’s YMCA swimming-pool area is walk over and say hello to my lifeguard friend, a female, impressive for age-65.
—I go to my pharmacy in Honeoye Falls where I hope *****, head-honcho, is there. She jumps up to greet me and we begin talking = we enjoy each other.
“Yada-yada-yada-yada-yada;” which translates to “I like you, and you like me!”
(“Never in a million years!”)
—I blow 10 minutes before leaving that YMCA swimming-pool so I can say goodbye to another one of my pretty lifeguard friends.
“Hello Bob,” she coos; then she smiles and her eyes sparkle. Again: “I like you, and you like me!”
(“DREAMIN’!”)
I’ve yet to come up with words which adequately describe my utter disbelief that women would like me. “No female will ever like you, Bobby! You are EVIL and salacious!”
There has been a learning-curve.
Since I am so driven to want girls to like me, I take note what attracts ‘em, and what turns ‘em off.
Per my childhood, the idea of a girl liking me was totally beyond comprehension.
I couldn’t even imagine such a thing!
The thought of a girl liking me never even crossed my mind.
70+ years late Yrs Trly finds that was Bible-beater bunk.
A wonderful way to scare a 5-year-old little boy from ever interacting with females — plus give my sanctimonious, hyper-religious, Sunday-School superintendent neighbor a way of venting against her dashing husband who was probably fooling around.
The other day my current neighbor and I were talking. He mentioned he’s had it with women.
Off I went: “girls-girls-girls-girls-girls-girls-girls! Oh how I love ‘em.”
I had to learn how to interact with ‘em. But now that I have, I’m having a wonderful time.
A while ago I met my 65 year old lifeguard friend, and noted how I had been thinking about her the night before. She walked away in disgust.
At this point I coulda thrown up my hands like my neighbor and said I’d had it with women: “never understand ‘em; fuggetaboudid!”
Instead I thought about what I could do to get my lifeguard friend back.
(“Your trouble is you think too much!”)
I decided to try what she did with me some time ago. I would be happy to see her. That other time she was happy to see me, despite my earlier inserting foot in mouth.
And how could I reword what turned her off? How about “I was thinking last night about something you said.”
IT WORKED! I got her back.
Unlike my father she didn’t keep score, and I think she liked I didn’t wanna lose her.
Another time I said to her “if I’m the least bit tentative or unconfident or devious, you’ll pick it up.
If I project I’m happy to see ya, you’ll pick that up too. It's infectious.”
“Well I'm glad you think about this stuff,” she said. She’s noticing I care about her.
I could let my all-knowing critics destroy my interaction with women.
(“Yada-yada-yada-yada-yada!”)
The same sorry litany I been hearing ever since I was four years old: “Never in a million years will you befriend a female! You are EVIL and disgusting!”
If I’m happy to meet that lady — and I am — I’ll get a positive response. I almost always do.
That lady will smile at me and her eyes will twinkle. We enjoy each other, which leaves me smitten.
Suddenly my hoary childhood is reversed.