Red roses arrived yesterday from B for Valentine's Day. He has always marked every occasion with flowers, roses, cards.......something romantic. I, on the other hand, am the most unromantic person on the planet. My big beef, waiting for the delivery, was that I had to keep the porch light on until 8 p.m. to be sure I received them.
Pretty bad, I admit, but I have always been like this. I guess you could describe me as loving, but decidedly unaffectionate -- except with my grandson, whom I adore and smother with affection.
Speaking of romance, as a keen observer of human nature, I am both enjoying and being disgusted by a scenario unfolding at the pool a few mornings a week. They are a most odd couple. He is a burly teutonic type in his 60s, with a shaved head and a speedo (always warning signals), while she is a diminutive oriental young lady in her early 20s in a fetching bikini (at this hour, no one wears them in the lanes). Clearly, he is putting the moves on her and it's pretty ghastly. Under the guise of teaching her to swim, he is all over her, smiling, "helping" with her stroke correction, chatting away and generally being overwhelmingly smarmy.
I am sure no one else notices, but I notice everything. Judging by his continued uncuous behaviour, I doubt he has been successful. As I swam by this morning I almost said, "he's putting the moves on you and you are too young and polite to get it," but I refrained. "You know, some guys are like that," he was saying to her as I stopped at the end of the lane pretending to adjust my goggles. Obviously, he was warning her away from menacing wolves in the public thoroughfare.
Some guys are like that?! Buddy, you're one of them!
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