Eye-contact

—“Our eyes met.” I noticed I always say that about meeting a female.
A while ago my lifeguard friend at Canandaigua’s YMCA swimming-pool mentioned my eye-contact seemed much stronger.
Years ago there wasn’t any.
Now I fish for it.
It’s a way of inadvertently telling that female she attracted me.
No lust; no evil intent.
I’ve yet to get smacked. 99% of the time our eyes meeting never bombs.
I’m telling that female I’d like to talk to her, although I ask first: “can I ask you a question?”
Never push yourself on a female. Asking first always get a positive response.
I put that female on notice: now she wants to hear what I say.
Things are much different since my wife died. Before I avoided people.
I also deduced a few tricks about talking with females.
For one thing, if a female starts talking to you, Let ‘er!
A lady is talking to you = she wants to.
Don’t interrupt; don’t even ask for clarification. I can usually get that later.
Most women aren’t assertive like men. If someone tries to take over a conversation, the lady will duck.
Interrupting is trying to take over the conversation.
Let her talk. Her talking to me is precious.
I get to hear her pretty voice, and she gets to interact with a dude not hitting on her.
“You are so compliant!” my lifeguard friend once told me.
“I’m a Liberal (“GASP!”), so I don’t push myself on you,” I thought to myself later.
If I did, that lifeguard and I wouldn’t be friends.
“I got a story if you wanna hear it.”
She wants to hear my story.
Eye-contact tells that female I wanna talk with her — and women love to talk.
Often it’s pointless yammering; the simple exchange of emotions back and forth.
DO IT!
“Can I say something to you?” and off we go.
I just told that female she attracted me.
She’ll wanna talk.

• My beloved wife died of cancer over nine years ago.

Paradigm shift

—“You are so much fun to talk to,” said the wife of my mower-man.
We had just burned 15-20 minutes of continuous yammering, and I was walking out of their shop.
They had spring-serviced my giant zero-turn, so I was paying my bill.
I would correct what she said to “you have become so much fun to talk to.”
I didn’t used to be that way. For over 70 years I pretty much kept to myself.
Long ago I was convinced no one would wanna talk to me.
Raised by Bible-beaters, including a sanctimonious, overly-judgmental, Sunday-School superintendent neighbor who convinced me all males, including me at age-five, were EVIL and disgusting.
My parents heartily agreed, since I was already in deepest doo-doo for being unable to worship my holier-than-thou father.
“Rebellious!” they declared.
“Shy,” my brother says.
“Yeah,” I say. “No one will talk to you, Bobby! So keep to yourself!”
Now, 70 years late, and nine years after my beloved wife died, I find the Bible-beaters were the ones who were WRONG.
Since my wife died, I got loose-as-a-goose.
My silly dog, a chick-magnet, got me used to talking with pretty girls.
And I discovered what a joy it is to strike up a conversation with anyone, especially females.
I told mower-man’s wife I hiked Lehigh Valley RailTrail that morning, and met my newfound lady-friend (“friend who happens to be female”).
That girl was an upper; I was somewhat depressed before her.
Even two years ago I wouldna mentioned my rail-trail friend to mower-man’s wife. Mentioning a pleasant female encounter to another female seemed unfair to me.
But she was happy I met my rail-trail friend.
“I like seeing you smile,” she kept saying.
“I live alone, my wife died nine years ago, no dog anymore. Sometimes I get depressed.
That rail-trail girl lifted my spirits.”
“I like seeing you smile,” she said again.
“Aww man,” I thought to myself regarding mower-man’s wife; “I’m no good talking to women. In fact I’m no good talking to anyone.”
Not anymore!
People wanna talk! Even with someone like me who once thought no one would wanna talk to me.
Strike up a conversation, and they won’t shaddup.
“We could talk ‘til Kingdom-Come, but I gotta buy groceries!”
Yr Fthfl Srvnt has had so many pleasant conversations I forgot the Bible-thumpers.
“Go to Hell, Bobby! Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. Go DIRECTLY to Hell!”
—And some day I might take that rail-trail girl out to dinner, mainly because we can talk.
It ain’t lust — other than that she’s attractive. (“GASP!”)
It’s her smile, as always. (“KerClick, KerClick, KerClick, KerClick!”)

• My “zero-turn” is my 48-inch riding-mower; “zero-turn” because it’s a special design with separate drives to each drive-wheel, so it can be spun on a dime. “Zero-turns” are becoming the norm, because they cut mowing time compared to a lawn-tractor, which has to be set up for each mowing-pass. —That mower came from that shop.

On hangin’ out with pretty ladies

—Yrs Trly has to get used to the idea a pretty lady may wanna hang out with me as much as I wanna hang out with her.
“No pretty lady will wanna hang out with you, Bobby! You are despicable!”
I noticed if I strike up a conversation with a pretty young girl, devoid of hitting on her, she likes that I was attracted by her enough to do that.
So now suppose (“Gimme that remote Luke! He’s a-doin’ that there thinkin’ again!”) I tell my lifeguard friend at Canandaigua’s YMCA swimming-pool I wanna tell her a tiny story.
I bet that pleases her — “he wants to tell me a story = I’m attractive!”
I’m making her feel good.
“Some day I got a tiny question for ya! It ain’t much. Not now, yer on duty!”
Readers, I just set her up. She wants to hear the question, and right now.
“Goodie! He wants to talk with me. Ergo, I’m attractive!”
Suddenly the girl wants to hang out with me. I just inferred she attracted me.
(“If any guy did that with me I’d call the Sheriff!”)
So of course my lifeguard friend came to my side — “that Hughes guy is fun to hang out with.” (“Impossible!”)
I have to get used to this readers. “No pretty lady will hang out with you” is in my past, but keeps holding me back.
After my childhood, it’s hard for me to imagine a pretty lady wanting to hang out with me.

Wing it!

—“I was hoping you’d be here today,” I said to my lifeguard friend at Canandaigua’s YMCA swimming pool.
“I'm always here on Wednesday mornings,” she said.
Maybe! 10-12 consecutive Wednesday mornings so far.
It didn’t seem to be that way until now. Prior to COVID-19, when my aquacise class was two days per week instead of one, I saw her only occasionally.
I like meeting her. We can talk, or so it seems.
“I have only one tiny thing to tell you,” I said.
That’s a conversation I practiced many times myself — and having something to say to her contradicted my entire point.”
…….Which was to allow a lady to talk to me as much as, or more than, I talk to her.
One of my lady friends mentioned she disliked talking with men because they try to take over a conversation.
I butted in on my lifeguard friend a few weeks ago.
For me to come to that pool with something to say doesn’t allow us to talk freely, the pleasure that comes from mindless chatter.
The babble that tells her you just wanna hear her pretty voice, plus you wanna talk to her.
To me, showing up with something to say — an agenda — is a flub.
Just talking freely to each other — mindless chatter — has rendered many pleasant conversations.
I had other practiced speeches in mind for other of my pretty lady friends.
Thankfully none occurred.
Only one successful contact today, out of four female contacts. And that wasn’t a practiced speech.
Hopefully my lifeguard contact didn’t bomb.
Next time: “nothing to say this time, except happy to see ya!”
“Forget the speech practice,” my critics would exclaim. “Your trouble is you think too much!”
This time I humbly agree with my critics.