I live in that solitude which is painful in youth, but delicious in the years of maturity.
For reasons that are often only clear later, people enjoy speaking to me. I was speaking with two pyt recently. Pyt1 I had met before. She suggested she wanted to camp near where I was living on the other side of the state. I scoured my brain for something polite to say, and suggested the far northern coast because that part of the state is more scenic.
Pyt2 chimed in about repulsive penis people hitting on her, failing to mention that pyt2 had (not?) provoked the penis people. Pyt1 then referred, with disgust, to some guy the age of her grandfather hitting on her. I'm still unclear on what, if anything, I did wrong. Perhaps my mistake was responding at all. I must practice more dumb silence.
I used to sell bicycles in Kailua on O'ahu. Time and again women who had successfully completed multiple gold digging expeditions would chat me up on the sales floor, conversations that only she, I & the NSA could hear...perhaps Apple also.
Everyone thinks that they have a sense of humour. Not everyone does.
These lovelies would talk, becoming progressively more suggestive, and I did what I could to play along. When the conversation went south, I was the one that misstepped. I was the one who offended her delicate, ladylike sensibilities. I was the lewd one. Never them. They were the victims who complained on social media that I did this, or my employer should reign me in.
