I prefer women

—“You should be as eager to strike up conversations with men as you are with women!”
So said my aquacise-instructor at Canandaigua’s YMCA swimming-pool.
She’s the cute little pixie with whom I made so many mistakes, worst being to think she was interested in me.
“I try,” I said; “and usually my attempts bomb.”
I got a look of utter befuddlement, like my response wasn’t what she expected.
—I hiked Lehigh Valley RailTrail a few weeks ago, and a couple approached.
I struck up a conversation with both, but the one who responded was the wife. (HELLO!)
With hubby I got “the look,” which says “what’s she talking to him for?”
—A few weeks ago I told a joke to a girl and her boss at Thompson Hospital’s Physical-Therapy department. The girl was my therapist.
She laughed up a storm.
Her boss got upset. I, instead of him, had made the girl laugh, and that’s not allowed.
—A while ago I struck up a conversation with an older gentleman in my supermarket parking lot.
He took my head off!
WOMEN DON’T DO THAT!
—A long time ago I checked out a restored 440 Six Pack Plymouth Roadrunner after it rumbled into my gas-station.
“I thought it might be a Hemi,” I said; “but I see it’s not!”
“575 horsepower!” the male driver bellowed.
Macho posturing alert! I walked away.
So I prefer striking up conversations with women.
“DO IT!” the little voice says in the back of my head.
“It always works!”
(The Bible-beaters in my childhood insisted that voice was Satan.)
So yesterday (Saturday, May 1st) Lehigh Valley RailTrail again.
Here comes another couple, so “I see your dog is taking you for a walk.”
“Yes,” the wife responded per usual; “and he’s been such a good boy.”
Both stopped, but then the husband continued ahead.
But not the wife. She wanted to talk.
After a slight pause: “I come here to visit my dog’s ashes,” I said. “They’re up by that mile-marker.
We hiked this trail hundreds of times,” I said.
“Back-and-forth, back-and-forth, nose to the ground. Frenzied barking into the woods: ‘critters beware!’
Always hunting!” I said.
“What kind of dog was he?” she asked.
“Irish-Setter,” I said. “Wildest craziest monkey I ever had.”
“What was his name?”
“‘Killian,’ as in Killian Irish-red.” (Say it twice!)
By now hubby was well over 100 yards ahead — the length of a football field.
He called his wife, but she wanted to keep talking.
“You’re probably too old for a puppy,” she said to me. “We’re both in our 70s.”
“Well I’m 77,” I said.
“I’m 74,” she smiled.
On-and-on we went.
Here we go readers: WOMEN LOVE TALKING! Especially with a guy not hot to procreate the species.
Her husband gave up and continued walking.
I hope I didn’t muck up their marriage.
“This guy is really interesting!” I could see it in her eyes.
And it was only talking to each other.
And apparently, unlike most men, I encourage women to talk with me.
The one who ends conversations with women is usually me. “We could talk forever, but errands await!”
The fact I wanna talk to a woman tells her she attracted me — which makes her feel good about herself.

• Hemi.