You know, I don’t often write about how handsome I am, or how fit, or how humble I am for my age... but maybe I could squeeze in a few posts each year about just those things. After all, I think I have good reason.
Yesterday, while I prepared to exit the Little Red Roaster, a woman looked me over while I zipped up my sweater and then said four unexpected words: You’re looking really good.
That stopped me in my tracks. I mean, full stop.
Usually, upon hearing those words, I fall over, unless it’s my wife talking... and then, we laugh and I wonder what it is she wants, i.e., the car for the afternoon, a raise, a quick smooch on the cheek before I’m told it’s my turn to make lunch.
However, yesterday, after I’d wiped the stunned look offa my face, I mentioned that my walking habit must be starting to pay dividends.
["I walked through Thames Park recently; trees are budding early"]
I think it’s that or my aftershave sends out signals (e.g., “Avon Musk, circa 1985, is such a manly fragrance, don’t ya think?”), or, the heavy elastic in my sweater makes my stomach appear smaller.
Whatever the case, I walked home thinking I should write more about such encounters because they likely mean something good.
Exactly what, I’m not entirely sure.
Should I ask my wife what she thinks about the incident next time it’s my turn to make lunch?
[Photo by G. Harrison]
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