Update:
Been working on direct eye contact and a sly smile. It often, not always, gets a good reaction. I love it when a girl sees me smiling at her, then mirrors that smile back to me.
Yesterday I saw this tall, slender woman with a stylish hair cut. I couldn't tell if she was old or young but I guessed early 50s. Fine by me. I kept up my appreciative smile as she went into this boutique, even as she appeared to not notice me. Then, she snuck a look at me through the window. I added a slight head nod to go along with my smile, and she beamed. Wow, she was quite attractive, and of an appropriate age.
I wish I had the balls to approach and get her number. I had a feeling I would have some success, or at least a positive interaction. But there were people I knew, the shopkeeper in particular, who would have witnessed the whole thing, and so I shrugged and kept moving along.
Friday night a buddy texted me that he had a funny interaction with a girl we are both crushing on, making fun of her and her male friend ogling the full moon. "Ugly isn't it?" he said. They laughed. My reaction? Oh shit, she's got a man. Shitagaddamn!
Then I was thinking, if you were out on the town, why didn't you ask me to hang out? I swear I invest too much into my friendships and get little in return. At least it appears that way to me now, but it might be my avoidant attachment style speaking. I asked another friend to come out last night to listen to some talented musicians in a small venue, and he was quick to respond that he already had plans. No elaboration.
Of course, they owe me no explanations, but I wish I had a tight group of two or three friends with some charisma and zest for life. It gets harder as you get older to make friends. In my six years in the military, I never lacked for a group of guys to hang out and have fun with. There was an unspoken bond that came with knowing you had to look out for each other. Maybe I should check in with a few of the old gang, see how the past 40 years has treated them.
Saturday early I went to the beach to catch some sun and see what there was to see. A number of very attractive women in bikinis was what. There was no way to approach without being obvious so I let it go, and just enjoyed the scenery. Damn now I know where the hotties have been hanging out. I could have figured out some pretext or another to approach but my shyness fully kicked in. Plus I couldn't even tell if some of them were of legal age. I will be back.
That evening, after a delicious dinner, I forced myself to go out solo. It's been awhile and it was hard. I kept trying on one excuse after another, but eventually I told myself "Another lonely night at home, how are you going to feel about that?" It was now or never, I've got the next couple of weeks pretty booked up (which is good, I'll be out and about being social and have a chance to meet girls outside my social circle.
As soon as I parked, I saw a super-cutie, truly one of the hottest girls I've seen in days, struggling to get a recalcitrant frenchie puppy into her car. I really don't like these designer breeds, the poor dog could hardly breathe because of his smushed-in face, but I must admit he was pretty cute. I asked her how old the puppy was, she said a couple months old (no way, at least three more likely four) but I was in.
We chatted pleasantly for a solid five minutes. She was wearing yoga pants and a crop top, showing off her gleaming tight, yet soft belly, her perfect C or even D cup boobs, and her ass was truly spectacular. She was a brunette with a pixie cut and the biggest, softest blue eyes. I kept up a chatty patter, asking if she was getting overtime. Yes. What about hazard pay? I hear frenchies can turn mean on a dime.
She was dog-sitting for her boss and had already fallen in love with the puppy. I was smitten myself, but not with the dog. I ejected too early, didn't get her phone number or even her name. I should have at least gotten her boss' name or where she worked. She was happy to talk. What the hell was wrong with me? Was I afraid I was too old for her (she looked in her 20s)? So what? I dated two women in their 20s and another in her early 30s the first time I broke up with the ex, two years ago. My age was an asset, if anything. As I've mentioned earlier, for younger woman an older man is anywhere from 35 to 75, with few distinctions in between. If anything, the older the man the more clout for the young cuties.
The rest of the evening was fine, but nothing much happened. The musicians were great, not only talented but scholars of the genre. I enjoyed that very much. I saw no women intriguing enough to hit on, but I had a couple of fun catch-up conversations with some acquaintances, and did have an interesting interaction with a girl who knew me, who I could vaguely remember. She was clearly feeling it, and while she wasn't my type, it felt good to catch her acting silly because she thought I was cute.
I went home after about an hour, having proved to myself that I could do it. I wish a few more people had come along because the night was still young and it can get pretty wild after the witching hour. I was hoping to get swept up into an epic adventure, as has happened on more than few enchanted evenings.
I've got a date with the classy blonde with the sexy hips tomorrow at a fancy root-top bar. I didn't feel like I sexualized the conversation very well the first time. We talked easily and ranged widely, but that frisson of sexual tension was missing. So what? I've had many first dates where the frisson was missing, but it showed up eventually. I'm hopeful.
I texted Limerance Girl, even though I said I wouldn't, because it had been a solid week and I hadn't heard anything from her. It was just a ping, to see if she was up for a walk-n-talk. She had plans but was quick to suggest an alternative activity, first tomorrow, then Tuesday, neither of which worked for me, then Wednesday, before we settled on Thursday.
I really need to get some alternatives quickly, so I don't reek of neediness. I am feeling especially vulnerable recently because of the situation with the ex-ex reconciling with her husband, the ink on their divorce papers hardly dry. Why do I crave her so much? She was nothing but trouble for all of our five years together, during which she never even bothered to file for divorce from her first husband. Then, after I met the ex, and finally broke it off with her for good, she ended up divorcing and marrying this guy less than a year later. I should feel relieved that I dodged a borderline-personality-disorder bullet.
