I think I made her happy

—A friend, a fellow transit bus-driver, retired like me from Regional Transit Service (RTS) in Rochester NY……
Noted my frequent mention of the attire of “pretty-girl,” the attractive 21-year-old “main-squeeze” of my niece’s 40-year-old ex-husband.
I said that “pretty-girl’s” attire was meant to project her as eye-candy, a deeply-cut dress, and her obvious lack of a bra.
I noticed of course; I’m a guy, and I’m attracted to girls. (“GASP!”)
But what really attracted me was her smile. It was ravishing, her eyes too, and even her eyebrows.
(“Change the channel Luke!”)
If I may say so, I think my liking her made her smile even harder.
“YIPPEE! A guy likes me as a person instead of as eye-candy.”
I was more attracted to her smile than her cleavage.
Her dress was marginal. A dishrag sorta. All it had was a deeply-cut front. It was kind of frumpy.
Facially she’s a stunner. Outta shape but a joy to talk to.
She smiled and smiled and smiled and smiled and smiled. I think she liked that I paid little attention to her sexiness.
We were at the delayed wedding-celebration of my brother’s only son.
He married a few months ago during the pandemic, but it was only a civil ceremony. It wasn’t the full-blown wedding-celebration most weddings are.
I was the only one of my remaining siblings to come. I’m first-born of seven; me at age-77, then three youngsters remain. (My brother is one of them.)
Home to near Boston is a seven-hour drive.
I thought I could do it, since the car I have now, a 2017 Ford Escape, is much easier to drive than what I had previously: a 2012 Ford Escape.
My brother got me the new Escape. Since he retired from power-generation, he went into business with a friend flipping cars.
They purchase used cars from auctions, etc. then groom them for resale. My new Escape is a lease-return.
I hafta be careful to not let it go above 90 mph on interstates.
And most of the trip to my brother’s home is expressway.
Can you say “cop-bait?” At least it’s not red.
I traded him my old Escape, plus gave him 1,000 buckaroos. We figger the transaction saved me about $1,000.
I wondered why my niece’s ex, and his eye-candy girlfriend, were even there.
A wonderful opportunity for my niece’s ex to display his sexual prowess.
Show up at this shindig with his overly exposed eye-candy.
Except eye-candy seemed more attracted to me — perhaps the father-figure she never had.
And then she pleasantly discovered that over the past few months I’ve gotten very good talking with women. (“Impossible!”)
WOMEN LOVE TALKING!
So let ‘em; encourage ‘em. Don’t interrupt, don’t cut ‘em off, don’t even ask for clarification — that can wait.
A female talking with you is precious. That means she wants to talk with you.
Don’t try to take over the conversation.
Preparing to eat, eye-candy and loverboy came to sit at my table.
Then eye-candy sat right next to me.
Then when an opening occurred she struck up a conversation with me on-her-own. Usually it’s me.
Plus the one she’s talking to is the one who got so good talking with women. (“No way José!”)
We began talking with each other.
The usual mindless chatter: I get to hear her pretty voice, and she doesn’t hafta defend herself.
She quickly noticed I was more interested in face-to-face eye-contact, than glancing down the front of her dress.
“YIPPEE!” she might think to herself. “A guy who actually likes me as a person instead of a sex-object.”
At age-21 she’s not suspicious of all men yet.
Talk, talk, talk, talkity, talk!
I almost lost her once.
Primary rule regarding complementing an attractive girl: don’t be direct; inference only!
Mayhap she also noticed I didn’t wanna lose her.
Our yammering drifted to the death of my wife. Per usual I started crying.
“I wish I could find a guy who cared about me as much as this guy cared about his wife.”
She tried to console me, gently stroking my shoulders.
Enter loverboy: “Gotta get hottie-girl away from this guy. She’s too attracted to him!”
Uhm HELLO! I’m 77 years old: way over the hill, although I don’t remember a hill.
I’d only be the approving father-figure she perhaps never had.
Since my beloved wife died, I’ve encountered many women, some of whom became friends.
I strike sparks with a few of those “friends who happen to be female.” We enjoy each other’s company.
It’s hardly sexual or even romantic. It’s more just talking with each other, swapping emotions back-and-forth.
Enjoying each other’s company.
They are females of course; and I like females: it’s a designed-in trait.
Every once in a while I run across a female who could use my liking her.
I look at those photo-booth pictures I put on this blog-site before, and there’s eye-candy at my side smiling extravagantly.
She looks happy: “Goodie, a guy who actually likes me as a person. He likes me. I can tell.
With him I’m not eye-candy.”
I think I made her happy; I see it in her smile, which I’ll probably never see again in my entire life.

• For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS) in Rochester, NY, a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and environs.