The tables are turned

—“Are you blocking me?” I asked my aquacise-instructor, pertaining to my inability to copy her into a text I sent to another.
Suddenly the tables were turned. No longer was I a whimpering-wuss unable to be definitive with an attractive lady.
Think about this readers. (“Hand me that-there remote Luke!”)
Suddenly she worries I think she’s blocking me; that I blurted it out reflected I didn’t care that much.
The other night I Facebook “messaged” her about something she posted to her Facebook “timeline.”
I don’t contact her much anymore, but we still are Facebook “friends.”
I suggested I coulda face-to-faced my comment instead, but it appeared she was mad at me.
Here we are again readers: I put her on the defensive again.
“I'm not mad at you!” she fired back.
Now the other side:
I tell my pretty jogger friend on Lehigh Valley RailTrail “I am so glad I said something to you!”
Some time ago I struck up a conversation with her, and she was thrilled.
A guy wanted to talk with her, but he wasn’t hitting on her.
The other day I met her again, and “I hike this rail-trail because I might meet you!”
What’s happening here readers? (“Uh-ohhh!”)
How did the whimpering-wuss get so assertive?
And I bet my pretty jogger friend is thrilled I tell her I like meeting her. (“She’s faking it!”)
That’s telling her flat-out I really like her. I won’t go into why, except to say it’s her smile.
(“KerClick, KerClick, KerClick!”)
She’s also a girl (“GASP”).
Tell a girl I really like her, tell an attractive female to ease up? No way José!
I’d be afraid to offend.
Now I don’t care anymore. I’ve learned face-to-face is usually pleasant.
If it bombs, try someone else.
Pretty girls especially. They’re the ones that hafta constantly defend themselves against loathsome lotharios.
Be the dude they can talk to without fear.
“YIPPEE! A guy who wants to talk with me, but he’s not after me.”
I’ve had it happen.

• Her smile tells me she likes me; and my history tells me “no pretty girl will ever like you Bobby.”