Time for me to go, babe

You are going to laugh when you read this..

Love gone south after years, months, even days..

Not this story..

 

As a senior, I have none of the confidence I had too much of when young…the process of asking someone out is the most agonizing six-month process I deal with..

And obviously, since I don’t engage in the process easily…if it doesn’t work, I dive into the cave of non-woman contact for months…and at the age of near seventy, my opportunities for smelling the hair of a woman of desire, absent paying for it,  are getting slimmer.

And I’ve never paid for it.

 

Tara works the desk at the YMCA…lots of fine line tattoos…way not my thing…very unusual features that make me think Mediterranean, perhaps Spanish..even middle Eastern…and that all works. Looks like the picture from your high school yearbook of the only female custodian..with an itch inducing twinkle.

In 1975, I would not have given her a first, second, or third glance.

Today, I think of her very often.

I never get gooey over the culturally acknowledged hottie…zero interest..could parade naked in front of me, would ALMOST not look..Kardashians might as well be the check out girls at Kroger’s.

 

But the pedestrian, the less than beautiful with that one undefinable sizzle marker, a smile that knocks me out, a way that her ass moves that reminds me of something from the past……this is what makes my heart rate jump.

Didn’t actually ask Tara for a date, but arranged to meet her at a summer concert in the park..

Could not have been worse.

She knew one of the band member guys and spent breaks with him…otherwise, she was on her phone fucking around.

I quietly left…no need to add bonus points to this humiliation.

Went home, and my bipolar dark side kicked in with the brutal vengeance that it saves for ass kicking emotions that only women can bring on.

No one to call…never had friends…therapist away…had to grind this out on my own.

Writing to strangers, as I am now, is a big help.

But I am now seeing Tara every time I go to the Y…no avoiding it, and it is painful, brutal, embarrassing, and I still want to have her spend the night on my back lawn till I bring her coffee at the breaking of the sun on the eastern edge.

It’s awkward, it’s awkward for her, and I have to leave.

My ten year YMCA membership ends today…

I walk a lot, and I can do that exercise, with my dog, on my gorgeous country road..

Or maybe I can join another health club…

But having Tara in my rearview is the most important thing, and after a few weeks, I will feel better.

I know this.

Cause Tara isn’t the first.

And I am praying she is the last.

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