While sitting in front of my house going through mail, I was politely propositioned by an impressive young man, in daylight no less.
He was 30ish, good looking with Kennedy like hair falling coyly across his forehead. What got my attention were his cufflinks gleaming in the sun. He looked like a baby stockbroker who slipped into jeans leaving his day wear on from the waist up.
“Pretty nice out,” he said, squinting my way. It was so bright I wondered why his outfit didn’t come with a pair of shades.
“Finally,” I said not looking up.
Two minutes later.
“I couldn’t help noticing you…I’ve seen you before.”
“If you stroll these parts often enough that would be bound to happen.”
“To be honest, I’m always hoping I’ll see you.”
In my Prednisone haze, I needed to nip this in the bud. The fact I could even hear him was miraculous enough, those steroids taking their bow, but it’s not in me, no pun intended, to canoodle with an infant unless he’s safely strapped in a stroller.
“I’m Harry,” he said, extending his hand.
Okay, Connecticut made her appearance to shake it then said, “How come you don’t have a young, pretty gal on your arm on such a lovely day?”
He seemed thrown by this, the Nutmeg State’s intention, and didn’t answer right away.
“Well, what about you…wanna take a walk?”
When you’re detached, that’s when you’re the most attractive…the chase commencing as if the bugle sounded.
Suddenly sadness swelled up in me remembering how sweet it is to have a beau, even for the afternoon, but I just couldn’t allow myself to enjoy being flattered by such a young man.
What could we talk about, the spinal tap I just had? And how many times will I have to mutter, can you say that again…I didn’t hear that.
“You know Harry, that’s a mighty fine offer on such a spectacular day, but I have some things to do, but I want to thank you for asking me.”
I got up, his cufflinks still sparkling like stars, and took leave.
I cried all the way up the stairs.