Talking with women is such fun!

—I think my lifeguard-friend at Canandaigua’s YMCA swimming-pool liked hearing I always look for her car when I pull into the parking lot.
If her car is there, as it has been for weeks: “YIPPEE, she’s here!”
That means “YIPPEE, we can talk!”
That means I’m talking with a female, a girl. (“Gasp!”)
And I think she enjoys talking with me. (“Impossible!”)
I probably enjoy talking with her more than I should.
Together we counter “No pretty lady will talk to you, Bobby! You are EVIL and disgusting!”
A legacy of my childhood; 70+ years marked-for-life.
If my parents had come to my defense, that angry Bible-beater woulda crashed in flames.
But my parents were Bible-beaters too. I couldn’t worship my holier-than-thou father, so I was “rebellious.”
So my experience with women is nil.
I think my lifeguard friend may be cutting me slack. I had a long-ago deal with another lifeguard friend that she not give up on me. She hasn’t.
On the other hand I noticed if I strike up a conversation, add respect and decorum, ladies like it. (“Never in a million years!”)
And I like that they like that.
My lifeguard friend isn’t the only one.
If I patronize my pharmacy, my lady friend there, head-honcho of that pharmacy, hops from her workstation so we can talk.
“We could talk forever,” she tells me. She loves talking with me, and I love talking with her.
The other day my lifeguard friend’s Subaru wasn’t in the parking lot.
“I got a new car,” she told me.
She didn’t walk away, or tell me to get lost. She showed me her new car so I could look for it next time.
Little-by-little The Keed learns how to engage and please women, casting off the albatross I carried 70+ years.
Talking with women is such fun!

• Lotta red text here. Most is my critics a-bellowing.