Am I a Creepy Old Guy?

You, the jury, can decide ...

Hello, hungry people …

I need your help today in resolving a vexing domestic dilemma.

Here’s the setup:

The other morning, my lovely wife and I went for a walk at one of our favorite places—Smyrna Dunes Park in New Smyrna Beach. Two miles of boardwalks. The Atlantic to the east, the Intracoastal to the west and to the north, connecting them, Ponce Inlet.

No matter what awful things might be going on in your life or in the world at large, a lap or two around the boardwalk at Smyrna Dunes will make everything right.

On this particular morning, we spotted a couple of gopher turtles nosing out of their holes to greet the day. A fresh breeze whispered in from the ocean. The waves, small but well formed, provided some action for surfers, longboarders mostly, scattered along the break. Further out, pelicans dive-bombed schools of baitfish.

Our 16-year-old dog, Marcus, had an extra bounce in his step. And, as we crested a rise in the boardwalk, looking across the inlet to the Ponce Lighthouse, I was feeling frisky too. Who wouldn’t? It was another great morning in Florida. Yes, such mornings do exist. They balance out everything else that goes on down here.

***

Heading toward us — two women, 40ish, blonde, fit and tanned.

They were moving at a pretty good clip, their hair tied back in long ponytails that swayed from side to side, wild appendages with lives of their own. It was like watching a pair of metronomes in combat mode. If they were a 60s girl group, they could be called the Swinging Ponytails.

As the women drew close, I gave them a wave.

“Morning,” I said. “Let me ask you something.”

They stopped.

“Sure, what’s up?” one of them asked.

“Think you could synchronize your ponytails so they kept time with each other?”

They laughed.

“That’d be pretty cool,” the other one said.

Then they were off. And we were off too.

***

We made it maybe a dozen steps before my lovely wife said: “You are now officially a creepy old guy.”

Me: “What do you mean? I was just being friendly.”

LW: “You were being creepy.”

Me: “It’s not like I was hitting on them or anything.”

LW: “No, you were just being creepy.”

Me: “They thought it was funny.”

LW: “No, I guarantee you that they thought it was creepy.”

We “discussed” this for the next several minutes, both of us holding our ground. Then Marcus stopped to lift a leg and our “discussion” drifted elsewhere. Old married folks know when to move past the small stuff and carry on. That’s how they get to be old married folks.

Still …

***

I will offer no further defense here of my position, the position of a friendly and relatively harmless 75-year-old man enjoying a walk along the ocean on a beautiful morning with his lovely wife and spry old dog, jazzed by the awesomeness of the moment and wanting nothing more than to reach out to other human beings and connect with a bit of well-intentioned levity that might somehow brighten the rest of their day.

Then again, perhaps I am guilty as charged.

Which, as it so often does, brings us to Today’s Poll! And I ask you, the jury:

Thanks for dropping by. And now, a bit of housekeeping.

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