Last time

Last time readers, I promise. “Pretty-girl” to my left, happy R***** to my right. (Photo-booth photo.)

—A) Of all the 40-50 tables under our wedding celebration tent she sat at my table.
—B) Instead of sitting across from me, she sat right next to me.
Readers, I’m not used to this. A pretty girl wants to hang out with me? (“She was being sociable!”)
—C) An opening occurs, and she snags it. She wanted to talk with me.
Again readers: I’m not used to this.
A pretty young girl striking up a conversation with a lifelong scumbag?
She’s only 21: not enough experience with men to become jaded about all males.
She’s outta shape, but her smile is ravishing. Her eyes sparkle. (“Change the channel Luke!”)
Even her eyebrows are pretty. I noticed and WOW!
I admit I radiate attraction to a girl. (“BALONEY!”)
Apparently I also radiate desire to talk, and women love talking.
Talk free of lust, and treating her as a desirable real person.
I started crying talking about my wife’s death.
She tried to console me. Here she was stroking a 77-year-old geezer who hardly can stand.
Her boyfriend, age 40, my niece’s ex, wanted to get her away from me. They moved to another table.
So why was I so smitten with this girl?
Probably because she was the first pretty girl to openly like me. (“She was socializing!”)
I’ve had it happen before, but not so strongly.
—A) She picked my table.
—B) She sat right next to me.
—C) The one who struck up our conversation was her.