She waved

—The other day my nurse-practitioner neurologist, who I visit every six months pursuant to my ongoing struggle with dreadful balance……
Suggested I discontinue aquatic balance-training in favor of my dry-land physical-therapy.
I currently do both.
“And walk away from my lady-friends at that swimming-pool?” I screamed. “No way José!”
At this point my nurse-practitioner neurologist, a girl, rendered her wisened chuckle.
“A sex-crazed geezer, eh?”
Sex at my age? “What you been smokin’ boy?”
My interest in lady-friends is hardly driven by sex. Maybe somewhat — they are women after all.
To me it’s reversing my childhood. Convinced at an early age no pretty lady would ever have anything to do with me.
That would be my sanctimonious neighbor Sunday-School superintendent, whose dashing husband was probably fooling around.
My parents, Bible-beaters like that Sunday-School superintendent, heartily agreed. I already was in deepest doo-doo for not being able to worship my holier-than-thou father — “rebellious I tell ya!”
So yesterday (Friday, May 7th) I again visited that swimming pool — at Canandaigua’s YMCA.
Not my organized aquatic balance-training class, but on-my-own.
Plus meet my lady-friends. My favorite lifeguard friend at that pool is not there on Fridays. But others might be.
Just sloshing around in that pool is beneficial.
My only “lady-friend” was *****, a new lifeguard, and she’s only a “maybe.”
***** is young and cute. She seemed to want me to say hello the other day.
So I tried a little harder the next time I saw her: let her know I like her.
My all-knowing brother in Massachusetts loudly declares pretty girls are a dime-a-dozen.
Thank goodness they are. If ***** bombs, I’ll try someone else. I usually succeed.
Let ***** conclude I’m not lusting after her. Talking yes, sex no!
In other words, let ***** attain “at ease” with me.
No pushiness on my part.
If I can’t have her feel comfortable, try someone else!
So last time I avoided *****, thinking I would only respond if she wanted me to.
NOTHING!
Yesterday she seemed more at ease.
There she was striding poolside to go on duty, so I kept looking to see if it was *****. Her name was on the bulletin board, and I was in the pool.
She noticed I was looking at her, so she waved.
Hooray-hooray! More comfortable mayhap? I hope so!
If ***** bombs, try someone else!
Lady-friends are a dime-a-dozen; I make lady-friends like crazy!
Women love talking, and I encourage it.
I learned how to get ‘em started: strike up a conversation with a lady, and off-we-go!
“The only way you can reverse your childhood,” my bereavement-counselor says; “is to make as many lady-friends as you can.”
That bereavement-counselor seems to be the only one who understands my attraction to lady-friends.

• Even at age 77, overweight, flaccid, and way over the hill (although I don't remember a hill), I have lady-friends galore, probably because I encourage them to talk with me.