I don’t wanna lose her

—“Now you're flirting with me,” my jogger-friend said the other day along Lehigh Valley RailTrail.
“I am not!” I blurted.
Trap alert!
How do I get her to not think I’m coming on to her, yet I still think she’s pretty?
I’d noted my silly dog, who I lost to canine cancer last August, made it possible for me to strike up a conversation with my jogger friend. He got me used to talking with (ahem) “pretty girls.”
I’d walk the dog in a park in Canandaigua, and he’d lean into a pretty girl wanting to be petted.
“Oh what a friendly dog! Can I pet him?”
Here I am talking with yet another pretty girl — the kind I used to be scared-to-death of.
It’s my childhood of course: “No pretty girl will ever talk to you, Bobby! You are EVIL and disgusting!”
That’s the infamous Hilda Q. Walton, my sanctimonious Sunday-School Superintendent neighbor, who convinced me all males, including me at age-5, were SCUM.
70+ years late, thanks to my four-legged chick magnet, I’m able to talk with pretty girls.
My jogger friend told me her name was A*****, same as my number-two lifeguard friend at Canandaigua’s YMCA swimming pool.
She’s also one “L,” same as my other A*****.
True, I inferred my jogger friend was pretty.
A similar indirect inference worked on my number-one YMCA lifeguard friend: “No pretty lady will ever talk to you,” and she said hello to me by name.
That was years ago, and she seemed to like it; she wasn’t suspicious.
(“She was cutting you slack!”)
I wasn’t coming on to her, but I inferred she’s “attractive.”
So how do I not lose this jogger friend? How do I tell her I like her, but I’m not coming on to her?
My number-two lifeguard friend is my go-to person for motherly advice. I don’t wanna lose her either.
Although I’ll probably run it past my number-one lifeguard friend too. I think I can, and I’ll probably encounter her first.
I been on-my-own since my wife died over nine years ago. I have no desire to remarry.
Although I enjoy talking with girls: girls-girls-girls-girls-girls-girls; oh how I love ‘em.
Every girl I befriend reverses my hoary childhood.
What I really enjoy is talking with them — they are so much fun to talk to.
“This conversation is turning into more fun than I ever expected,” a lady tells me.
“We could talk forever,” another lady tells me.
“You are so much fun to talk to,” a woman laughs.
“I hope we meet again,” my jogger friend said months ago.
My number-one lifeguard friend suggested I keep my mouth shut — let it slide — pretend I never goofed up.
A stellar suggestion, since it’s the same thing I did with her perhaps three months ago.
I’d firmly inserted my foot in my mouth, but I got her back, much to my utter amazement.
Unlike my father, that lifeguard doesn’t keep score.
I’m hoping my jogger friend doesn’t keep score either — I don’t wanna lose her.

• Yes, she was cutting me slack. She knows I mean well, but have little experience dealing with women.