A Lucky Guy

Stupid stuff occasionally comes to mind, and a lot of the time I write about these wacky thoughts, many of which appear in this idiotic blog. This one particular thought has past through my mind many times over the last twenty or thirty years. In fact, I can’t believe I haven’t written about it yet. I thought I had, but as I glance through the entries in this goofball blog, I see no sign of it.

I’m a lucky guy. That’s it. That's the thought. As I said, this notion first came to me many years ago. I was probably in my 20s or early 30s. It dawned on me that I should appreciate the fact that I am a healthy American born in the 20^th Century. I could have been born a deformed infant in Ethiopia or Siberia four hundred years ago. But I wasn’t. I had the good fortune to miss out on all three of those possibilities.

I could have been born in France in 1830. Perhaps I would have lived to the age of 22 when appendicitis would have killed me. What if I had been born in China in 1560? I would have had a life-expectancy of 25 years. Twenty-five years of drudgery, working in rice patties. Who knows, maybe I would have gotten used to it. I’m glad I didn’t have to try.   

I don’t know when or how this idea first came into my mind, this idea concerning my good luck. It may have been about 1980. Perhaps I was playing golf on a sunny day, with a good friend. I may have looked around, taken it all in, and thought; I sure am lucky because life just doesn’t get any better than this.

Or it’s possible the year was 1982. I could have been sipping a red wine while dining on a perfectly-made helping of steamy lasagna. Across the table was a pretty woman, a lovely smile brightening her face. Out in the parking lot was my first brand-new automobile. Such a scenario certainly could have made me appreciate my life’s good fortune.

And my good luck just seems to continue on and on. I’ve never been struck by either lightning or a bus. For some reason, no one has felt compelled to shoot me. I’ve never had a catastrophic illness. I’ve been bitten by a dog only once, and I probably had that coming. Heck, I have retained all my teeth, except for the wisdoms. I have seen the world from the summit of Pike’s Peak, and trekked the salty floor of Death Valley, 282 feet below sea level. I have dined at the Eiffel Tower, and camped upon the White Cliffs of Dover. How does a guy get so lucky?

Is it possible that all the bad luck will hit me at once? It doesn’t seem likely, but who knows? Who would have thought I could’ve gotten this far unscathed. So maybe all the bad luck will descend upon me all at once. Heck, even if that happens, I’d be way ahead in the game.

A Brief Fling

This is the second time this has happened to me in the last five years or so. You would think it strange; forty years as an adult and it happens to me only twice, both times when I am over 55. The first experience was while I was sitting in a Worthington Kroger grocery store, just outside the pharmacy department. I was awaiting a prescription to be filled, and so was she. This most recent occurrence took place in a Clintonville dentist office waiting room. As with the first occasion, it was just the two of us there, isolated and by ourselves.

It was about ten minutes before 2 PM. I was early for my appointment with my dentist, Dr. Raisch. I sat down two seats to the left of the only other person in the waiting room, an attractive woman who I guessed was in her mid-30s, maybe 40 years old. Coincidentally, I had seen the same woman six months earlier in the same room. Apparently our six month check-ups were almost synchronized. I wanted to say hello but she appeared to be reluctant to so much as make eye contact. It seemed almost as though I were too imposing a figure for her eyes to behold. I was wearing one of my best shirts, and I was enjoying a good hair day, so the notion that I might be simply too astounding was something I accepted as a natural reaction from the captivating woman.

I made myself comfortable in a chair, and in a tough decision chose a Guns and Ammo Magazine over a Today’s Bride. I was in the process of pricing bullet-proof vests when the comely lady two seats to my right whispered, “I want to say, I find you very handsome. Very handsome.”

My reading ceased immediately, of course. Truth was; I was speechless. How can anyone instantly respond to such a statement? I certainly could not.

Still speaking in a hushed voice, she continued. “We haven’t seen each other very often, but we’ve seen each other often enough that I know that you are the one for me.”

I turned and gave her a glance, but when I did she spun away, as though her own words were adding to her timidity. I was about to speak, but before I could, she continued with her shy, whispered disclosure. “I want to see you this evening… no, I need to see you this evening. You could come by my place.”

“I am flattered," I stated uneasily, “but…”

“Don’t say no,” the attractive lady continued, her body still turned away in apparent bashfulness. “Please, don’t say no.”

“Well, see, the thing is, I have a significant other,” I pronounced. “I think you are an attractive woman, and if I were an available man I certainly would consider your proposal, but...”

Suddenly the woman turned towards me, she removed the miniscule cellphone headset from what had been her hidden right ear. “Excuse me,” she said to me, her voice suddenly strong and direct, “are you talking to me?”

“Ummm, no,” I managed to stammer, “I was just talking to myself. That’s all, just, you know, talking to myself.”