Say goodbye to *****
—Pool-time finished, Yrs Trly glanced into the swimming-pool area of Canandaigua’s YMCA before leaving the adjacent locker room.
I look to see if I should say goodbye to any of my lady friends.
SCOTCH THAT! “Friends who happen to be female.” “Lady-friends” sounds too much like “girlfriends.” “Girlfriends” has sexual import. (All we do is talk.)
I admit I prefer females. Designed in I guess, plus long ago I was convinced no female would ever have anything to do with me.
So I am smitten by ladies, although ladies seem friendlier.
Men might start hitting me with that macho crap. Ladies wanna talk! The simple exchange of mindless chatter.
By doing so we denote we attract each other.
“Goodie!” I said to myself. “That looks like *****. She knows me, and I know her. Plus earlier she waved excitedly at me: the ‘happy to see ya’ wave.
Ergo, “we can talk.”
So I ambled slowly around the pool, fully dressed: “CALL SECURITY!”
But it’s *****, and she knows me.
Locker room to lifeguard-stand is probably at least 50 yards — I coulda just left, but I had a hunch ***** would like me saying goodbye to her.
I thought she might like knowing I like her.
“Hi Bob,” she cooed.
Our eyes met, and she smiled at me.
There you have it readers: “No pretty ***** will smile at you!” And ***** just did!
“Sorry I’m late,” I said to her; “but I had to make sure you were who I thought you might be.”
“I didn’t understand a word you said,” ***** said. We were wearing masks.
I repeated what I said, except “I had to make sure you weren’t ******. You two look so much alike.
I make ****** nervous. With her I’m a lonely hot-to-trot widower, eager to FLIRT with every pretty young girl that comes along.
I have a hunch ****** has been hit on, and I wouldn’t do such a thing!”
“I'll hafta talk to her,” ***** would say.
“Don't try too hard,” I’d say. “******’s feeling at ease with me has to be her doing. I ain’t pushin’ her!”
We talked a little, then “have a pleasant weekend!” as I walked away.
That was *****. We talk, and I love that we do.
I coulda just walked out without meeting her. But her pretty eyes flash, and she smiles at me. I can’t resist: this is so contrary to how I was raised.
No way am I leavin’ that pool without saying goodbye to “friends who happen to be ladies.”
And I bet ***** is happy a dude likes her as a person, and will make the effort to tell her so.
I look to see if I should say goodbye to any of my lady friends.
SCOTCH THAT! “Friends who happen to be female.” “Lady-friends” sounds too much like “girlfriends.” “Girlfriends” has sexual import. (All we do is talk.)
I admit I prefer females. Designed in I guess, plus long ago I was convinced no female would ever have anything to do with me.
So I am smitten by ladies, although ladies seem friendlier.
Men might start hitting me with that macho crap. Ladies wanna talk! The simple exchange of mindless chatter.
By doing so we denote we attract each other.
“Goodie!” I said to myself. “That looks like *****. She knows me, and I know her. Plus earlier she waved excitedly at me: the ‘happy to see ya’ wave.
Ergo, “we can talk.”
So I ambled slowly around the pool, fully dressed: “CALL SECURITY!”
But it’s *****, and she knows me.
Locker room to lifeguard-stand is probably at least 50 yards — I coulda just left, but I had a hunch ***** would like me saying goodbye to her.
I thought she might like knowing I like her.
“Hi Bob,” she cooed.
Our eyes met, and she smiled at me.
There you have it readers: “No pretty ***** will smile at you!” And ***** just did!
“Sorry I’m late,” I said to her; “but I had to make sure you were who I thought you might be.”
“I didn’t understand a word you said,” ***** said. We were wearing masks.
I repeated what I said, except “I had to make sure you weren’t ******. You two look so much alike.
I make ****** nervous. With her I’m a lonely hot-to-trot widower, eager to FLIRT with every pretty young girl that comes along.
I have a hunch ****** has been hit on, and I wouldn’t do such a thing!”
“I'll hafta talk to her,” ***** would say.
“Don't try too hard,” I’d say. “******’s feeling at ease with me has to be her doing. I ain’t pushin’ her!”
We talked a little, then “have a pleasant weekend!” as I walked away.
That was *****. We talk, and I love that we do.
I coulda just walked out without meeting her. But her pretty eyes flash, and she smiles at me. I can’t resist: this is so contrary to how I was raised.
No way am I leavin’ that pool without saying goodbye to “friends who happen to be ladies.”
And I bet ***** is happy a dude likes her as a person, and will make the effort to tell her so.
Labels: Relations with the opposite sex, Swimming-pool follies
posted by BobbaLew at 4:40 PM
1 Comments:
Does all that mean you are done with "MOVES"? One of these days I'll get back there, but my life has changed so much these past months, that it overwhelms me to have one more thing in my day. I try evey week, so far haven't gotten there.
Janet Mamula
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