Jack

I’ve known Jack for about fifteen years. We first talked when his son did some excavation work at a store where I worked. Some years later, we spent a quiet few hours, watching his son push dirt at my house. He had had some medical issues and retired early, so he and his dog, Pepper went along on his son’s jobs. When I see him at the grocery store or the bank, I’m always pleased. Yesterday, we exchanged words, when he came to the polling station, where I was working. He’s seventy-five to my sixty-three, fairly crippled up to my healthy as a horse, but I’m interested.

Both of my husbands were younger than me. Not by much, but I’ve always been drawn to and attracted by younger men. Younger women, too for that matter. Maybe that’s a way for me to feel younger, myself. Being attracted to someone does not equate to anything sexual. Even as a young woman, I lived in my head more than in my body. “Repressed” may come to mind. That could be, as I’ve always had some issues of that sort. But I find, as my body sends sexual messages less often, I’m open to different kinds of romantic relationships. The place where I choose to live, feel most comfortable, doesn’t afford me much in the line of romantic partners. These guys are a blue-collar, deer hunting group, intimidated by self-sufficient women. I’ve made friends with a lot of them and cherish those friendships but know that will be the extent of it.

But just maybe, Jack and I can take a ride in the mountains or meet for dinner. I suspect, given his physical limitations, Jack won’t act on what seems to be our mutual attraction. I’ll have to see if I can get up the nerve to pursue this.