Was this a drive-by pickup attempt?

A guy tried to pick me up the other night........OK, not a "guy" exactly, more like a man........well, not a "man" exactly, more like an older man.....but actually younger than I....late 50's.  Found myself on my own in early May with nothing to do (B had gone to Ottawa to receive his Jubilee medal), so took an aquaintance up on her suggestion that we hit a local bar.  Why not, I said.  Haven't hit a bar in an evening with another woman in a hundred years.

Now, this gal (we'll call her "C") is in her early forties and in unbelieveable shape, totally ripped.  She used to be into body sculpting and won all kinds of competitions, so you know what I am talking about.  "You may not want to go out with me," I said, glancing in disbelief at her rock-hard stomach and textured arms in the changing room at the Y.  "I might make you look bad!"  Everyone screamed.

Anyway, rumaged around for an outfit that took advantage of the weight I've lost, found a spectacular pair of earrings, slapped on the war paint, strapped on the high heels and met her for drinks at the local "Joey Tomato" in Crowfoot.  As we sat there laughing and yakking, the man next to me started up a conversation.  "Do you come here often?"  I looked around, who me?  "Yes, often with my husband, but he's out of town so I'm here with my girlfriend."  Maybe it was the bit about the husband being out of town that spurred him on...he kept going.  Naturally, I assumed he was after C.  (A man hasn't hit on me in a bar for quite a while.)  "Do you live around here?"  Who me?  "Yes, just up in Citadel."  The fact that I kept giving him the back of my head and flashing my wedding rings didn't deter him one bit.

C spotted a couple of girlfriends she worked out with across the bar and headed over, leaving me alone with the relentless and persistent "Mr. Goodbar".  I guess he had taken a gander at C, figured he had no chance, lowered his sights and zeroed in on me.  Then he started on about how his wife had died (was that to get sympathy?  Didn't work), about how his son and kids were so busy he hardly saw them (like I care!), about how he had just moved to Calgary and didn't know many people (no wonder!), can I buy you a drink? (as if!).

Instead of coming to my rescue, C and her friends just stood there laughing uproariously at my unsuccessful attempts to give him the breeze.  After what seemed like an eternity, C finally took pity on me and returned.  I could have killed her.  At that Casanova finally got the hint and ceased bending my exasperated ear.  When B returned and I told him about this bizarre episode he said, "Well I'm not surprised.  You look pretty good for an old broad."

That was a back-handed compliment if ever I had heard one, but I grabbed it.