Some of the “Ew Things” I see on my daily walk:

Sitting on a park bench overlooking the ocean today, I was paused there to text my son back when some 60-ish looking man approached me from behind, “Can I sit next to you?”“No.”“No?!!!”“I’m sorry, I’m texting my son, what did you say?”“Can I sit next to you?”I looked down the length of the 2-mile boardwalk, observing the mostly vacant benches that are spaced one every three feet, and said, “Well, it’s public property, but there’s a lot of other empty benches around.”“Yes, I know. But I just thought it would be nice to sit next to you.”Hearing that, I thought to myself, “Good Lord, why do I always attract the creepers?”But then God made that old Beatles tune go off in my head:

All the lonely people (Ah, look at all the lonely people)Where do they all come from?All the lonely people (Ah, look at all the lonely people)Where do they all belong?

So, to be kind, and to not get crossways with anyone from above, I said, “I’m sorry, I’m married.”“Yeah, so am I. But I just thought it would be nice if we could snuggle and kiss.”

Snuggle and kiss!!!

Thank God for menopause. One of the good things about it is that, once you’ve done your human duty of being kind to a brethren who isn’t exactly behaving appropriately, you no longer care about telling that person where to get off.

In the past I’d obsess and lecture myself over an encounter like that, “Gloria, he was clearly demented, a pervert by all standards, still, you could’ve been nicer.”

But ever since menopause, nope, nothing doing. Now, if an off-person doesn’t reciprocate in kind to my civil gesture, I come out with guns blazing, and with nary a backwards glance.

In this case, I said, “Um, I’m sorry, but I’m sooooo not interested. Move along please.”

Okay, so no middle fingers shot skyward, but trust me, the sentiment was there.

And because I’m one of those menopausal women who really does have a husband and kids, I am fortunate enough to have people to shake “ew things” off with.

Once the dude departed, I immediately contacted everyone in my family to rant and rave about why it is that still no cute, sane guys ever approach me.

Like, where is Bob Weir when you need him?

*The photo is of an innocuous weird thing that I sometimes see on my daily walks.

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