Truck-stop candy

—Who, pray tell, is ***** *****, with the deep, dark cleavage? And why is Facebook, in its infinite wisdom, suggesting I “friend” her?
I could run a screenshot of her buxom profile picture. But I don’t want some loathsome lothario stalking her.
A wisp of a smile, but I’ve seen prettier eyes.
Her rack would be distracting. And dare I say it, boobies are not what attract This Kid.
Every one of my female friends aren’t similarly endowed. What they have are an engaging smile and/or pretty eyes.
I remember years ago a lady who was flat-as-a-board.
We talked and talked and talked and talked and talked, and she kept smiling at me. Finally I told her I really liked her smile.
That made her smile even harder: she was lighting up the entire woods. We were hiking a rail-trail, she the other direction.
“This guy is really interesting!” I could see it in her eyes: they sparkled.
She became embarrassed we were having so much fun talking it wasn’t fair to her husband (not there).
We both were walking our dogs, who were going nuts. 25 minutes or so: “we got hunting to do!”
I’ve had many similar encounters. One was a pretty young jogger who told me she was thrilled I struck up a conversation with her.
Of course she was thrilled. I wasn’t hittin’ on her!
That is, I treated her as an equal talker.
Another was an older lady who smiled and smiled and smiled at me.
Another was the 40-ish bicyclist lady smiling at me as we talked and talked and talked some more.
“We could talk forever, and it sure would be fun, but errands await.” She wasn’t that pretty; but her smile was ravishing.
Sadly, I don’t think my wife ever smiled like that; or if she did, I didn’t notice.
What attracted me was that she liked me, firstborn of hyper-religious, overly judgmental parents, eager to tell me I was disgusting because I couldn’t worship by holier-than-thou father.
My wife wasn’t a sexpot, but she could be attractive. She’d been raised by her mother to be a frump.
“You get rid of them glasses, and let your hair grow, and you’ll look a lot prettier,” I told her.
Her mother was aghast. I was leading her daughter into sin and degradation; I was making a frump pretty!
Facebook was making another “friend” suggestion for someone I thought might be my lifeguard friend at Canandaigua’s YMCA swimming-pool.
This “friend” suggestion had the same first name as that lifeguard, but I been told that second suggestion wasn’t a lifeguard.
All of which has me wondering why Facebook would suggest two women I don’t know.
I did some research into that second lady’s FB “friends,” and none are “mutual friends.” Also, none of *****’s 89-bazilyun “friends” are “mutual.”
No doubt researching *****’s “friends” triggered a slew of fevered Facebook algorithms. “That Hughes guy is researching ‘boobie-girl’!”
And if their second “friend” suggestion had actually been my lifeguard friend, how would they connect me with her?
“Google knows where we are,” I told my lifeguard friend once. “My iPhone is in the locker room, and yours is in the office. Google knows we’re both at this YMCA pool.”
(And perish-the-thought, I think my lifeguard friend likes that I say things like that. “You’re funny,” she would say. And I’ve heard that from other ladies, and they laugh and smile telling me that.)
2-3 years ago my aquacise-instructor, cute and definitely not a Harley-mama, gave me her business card. I immediately cranked that into my iPhone contacts, about when a friend installed “Facebook for iPhone.”
Within a week Facebook suggested that aquacise-instructor as a “friend.”
Where did they get her? She’s not “mutual” with any of my “friends.”
SuckerBird and his cronies secretly trolled my iPhone contacts. Another Facebook fast-one!
Ignorant as I was at the time, I sent her a “friend” request, and I’m glad I did, because I probably access her page more than most.
So will Yrs Trly click the “friend-request” button for *****?
ABSOLUTELY NOT!
I scroll through *****’s 89-bazilyun “friends,” and many are grizzled truckers.
Truck-stop candy? No way José!
Her cleavage is appealing, but no match for the smile or flashing eyes of one of my flat-as-a-board lady-friends.
And if I may say so, I think the girls with a buxom rack carry an albatross. They can’t talk easily with the lechers they attract.
Poor *****! Pretty, but candy for truckers.
The quantity of Facebook “friends,” or bedpost notches, do not denote one’s worth.

• I do aquatic balance training in the Canandaigua YMCA’s swimming-pool, currently one class per week — almost an hour — less than usual due to COVID-19.
• “Harley-mama” defined: smoke, drink, gamble, a slattern, slovenly, thunder-thighs, etc.