Lucky for her

—The most plausible explanation regarding why “pretty-girl” seemed attracted to me is.…
She needed a father-figure.
I’m 77 years old, and my balance is so bad I have to go out of my way to keep from falling. I walk like a little old man.
She needed a pants-wearer to increase her self-worth.
Along comes some 40-year-old dude who lusts after her, which she perceives as increasing her self-worth.
Except it’s only lust-based. What’s beyond her sexuality doesn’t interest him — or does it?
I’d like to think my liking of girls is more than lust. (“Get ready zealots!”)
I was married 44&1/2 years to a lady who was extraordinary.
I told her what I liked most about her was what she had between her ears.
Meaning-of-life, figures-of-speech, obscure concepts, philosophy, etc. We could talk about anything.
We’d finish each other’s sentences, or “I was just thinking the same thing.”
She was rangy, and not overly endowed. I had to convince her she could be pretty. “You get rid of them glasses, and let your hair grow, and you’ll look a lot prettier.”
Her mother raised her to feel inferior.
“I had the perfect husband picked out for you, but you had to go your own way. I don't know what you see in him? GUILTY!”
(I could tell stories about her mother.)
So now that my wife is gone, I perceive all female contacts as real people.
My wife died of cancer nine years ago, and I been on my own ever since.
I’m not interested in remarrying; I feel like I’m never gonna find anyone as extraordinary as my wife.
So here came “pretty-girl” with lover-boy (my niece’s ex-husband) at my brother’s wedding-celebration for his son.
She notices me, a creaky old geezer, that I may be the father-figure she never had.
—A) They sat at my table;
—B) She sat right next to me; and
—C) She struck up a conversation with me herself. (Usually it’s me.)
She thereby met a fabulous father-figure, a guy not drooling with lust, but who liked her as a person.
A “liberal.” (“GASP!”)
(I been told the correct CONSERVATIVE spelling is “L-I-B-E-R-I-A-L.”)
We began talking, just she and me.
She noticed my fervent eye-contact, that I wasn’t ogling down the front of her flimsy dress.
“Goodie,” she thinks to herself; “a dude who likes me, instead of perceiving me as another notch on his bed-post.” (“You think too much!”)
All I know is it seemed her reaction to me reflected a deep void in her personality: that she lacked a male or father who liked her personally.
Lover-boy wasn’t filling that void; he was just lusting after her.
Her attraction to me seemed rather strong; like I was radiating that I liked her as a person instead of as a sexual conquest.
I was radiating the approval she needed, and she seemed to need it strongly.
I was making her happy; her smile was ravishing.
Thank goodness she’s only 21: too young to become jaded or suspicious of all males.
And thank goodness I’m learning 70 years late that all women are not suspect.
I’ve met and encountered a few negatives, but I still am not jaded or suspicious of all women; and doubt I ever will be.
Now I hafta hope that poor girl someday meets a guy like me who likes like her as who she is, because I’ll probably never see her again in my entire life.
I had her smiling profusely; like I apparently filled her void.
Lucky for her: she met a father-figure who made her happy, and really happy, not just lust.
(“DREAMIN’!”)