Smiling all the way

—“If I took the advice of all you nattering nabobs of negativism,” I would say to my brother..…
“I wouldn’t be having as much fun as I’m having with girls.” (“GASP!”)
It’s the same sorry litany I been hearing since age-5! “No attractive female will have anything to do with you!”
My brother and I will chase and photograph trains in Altoona, PA, the end of this month.
There’s a fair chance he’ll have read my blogs about “pretty girl,” and how me and she seemed to strike sparks.
Out of 40-50 tables under that wedding tent, she sat at my table.
She also sat right next to me, not across.
Then it was her striking up a conversation; entirely unexpected after my childhood.
Okay, she was (“just socializing.”)
But what I saw was what I’ve seen many times: “this guy is really interesting!”
What that is, of course, is I let her talk to me. I encourage it. I don’t cut her off or butt in.
We swap stories. We talk like two friendly females.
Mindless chattering. The simple exchange of emotions back-and-forth.
“Yada-Yada-Yada-Yada-Yada.”
I get to enjoy her pretty voice, and she gets to enjoy some dude liking her, but he isn’t hitting on her.
I think of numerous examples; I’ll render two:
—1) I’m hiking Ontario Pathways years ago in Canandaigua with the dog I had back then.
Along comes a pretty lady also walking her dog.
We stop and begin talking.
She mentions she’s native of Bergen, NY.
“Oh,” I say. “That’s near Niagara Escarpment.”
She lights up, smiling.
“This guy knows what the escarpment is. This guy is really interesting!”
At least 20 minutes of meaningless chatter: Niagara Escarpment, “Lucy” the Margate elephant, etc. (Her dog’s name was “Lucy.”)
Our dogs were going nuts. They wanted to keep hunting.
She smiled and smiled and smiled and smiled and smiled.
She clearly enjoyed that I loved talking with her. Her smile lit up the woods.
“This guy likes me; I can tell!”
She kept rearranging her loose-fitting blouse. It kept flopping open, exposing what little cleavage she had. She was extremely flat-chested.
I didn’t care; her smile was ravishing.
Finally we parted, her saying she wouldn’t talk to me if we met again.
By now she was embarrassed we’d had so much fun just talking it wasn’t fair to her husband, who wasn’t there.
We met again later, and she stopped a few seconds to talk.
—2) I was hiking Lehigh Valley RailTrail alone. By now my dog was gone.
A lady was resting on a rock with her bicycle next to where I turn back.
I think she waited before leaving to see if I’d say anything to her; maybe 15 minutes.
We struck up a conversation when I arrived. It was based on her SmartPhone, which was Samsung I think. (Not after what them clowns did to Pearl Harbor!)
I offhandedly mentioned I’m a retired RTS bus-driver, so she launched into how she rode bus across Rochester as a teenager to “Our Lady of Mercy” high-school.
“I drove Mercy,” I said to her. “I mighta had you as a passenger!”
By now she was smiling broadly; I can still picture her.
“This guy is really interesting, and I think he likes me!”
She looked early 40s, but her smile was lighting up the area, which is open where I turn back.
So “pretty girl” enjoys talking with me.
Not unexpected. We talk and talk and talk some more.
Her boyfriend drags her off to get her away from me.
If I let them naysayers — nattering nabobs of negativism — dissuade my joy in interacting with females….
I can’t do it!
“Go to Hell, Bobby! Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. Go DIRECTLY to Hell!”
(Smiling all the way.)

• RE: “Nattering nabobs of negativism.” Click the link, readers. That’s Spiro Agnew, Vice-president for Richard Nixon. I used “nattering nabobs of negativism” incorrectly. Spiro was referring to the media. I refer to my critics.
• It’s “Ber-jen.”
• 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.