Found Love in a Park

John darted a quick glance at the woman to his right; she did not seem to notice the perspiration that flew from his brow. The bench seemed too large for his taste, as he preferred to be as close to the woman as he could manage. He opened his mouth and closed it again. Finally, he spoke:

         “I-I-I al-always h-had a thing for older ladies.”

         And thus began John’s artless propositioning of Ursula the octogenarian. He spoke in earnest. As an adolescent, John was the only person he knew who had a crush on any of the Golden Girls. In his community he was well-known for his selfless volunteer work at the local old-folks home. No older woman had ever carried her groceries or picked up a piece of loose change if John had been in the immediate vicinity.

         But he had never made an overture towards any of the subjects of his desire. Fears of disapproval, of rejection from the social circles, of disgust, kept him from openly declaring his preferences. However, he had recently decided to pursue that which made him happy. Understanding that life was short, John thought it better to pursue his own pleasure instead of bowing down to meaningless social conventions. After all, it was not as though the women were not allowed to consent.

         As John thought it an abuse of power to proposition one of the ladies at his retirement home, however, he had to search in other places for an attractive older woman. He had patrolled around breakfast buffets, antique stores, parks in the hope of finding such a person. And all of his searching had been in futile, until one day he saw Ursula feeding the pigeons besides a bridge.

         She was perfect for his intentions. John thought her beautiful Just as importantly, she was alone. She seemed to have come to the park directly from church. Her light pink dress perfectly complemented her pale complexion and grey locks. Her fingernails were of a similar color as her dress, and were attended to enough to minimize the yellow nicotine stains on her fingers. Her countenance was not shriveled or emaciated; instead the faint fine lines lent to an air of distinction and lofty experience. When she smiled, her heavily coated lips stuck to her dentures so that the expression popped up suddenly. After a long breath, John had finally moved to sit on the bench.

         The first few minutes of the encounter passed uneventfully. John had glared at her cane, angry that its position on the bench maintained a distance between he and his beloved. Finally he had worked up the courage to speak, and his tentative first statement betrayed his hesitance.

         Ursula had fallen asleep, and was quite confused when the cat in her dream professed its attraction to her. The repetition of the statement jerked Ursula out of her nap. She was rather shocked when she saw the eager young man to her right.

         “What was that you said young man?”

         “I-I s-s-said that I-I-I always had a th-thing for older w-w-women.”

         Ursula scarcely felt that she could trust her ears. After all, the young man to her right barely seemed to be an adult; besides, with his looks he could get a woman far younger than she. Certain that she had misunderstood the meaning of the man’s statement, that she had misheard him, or that she was still dreaming, she asked for clarification.

         Emboldened by the hunger in Ursula’s eyes, John moved closer to her.

         “I have always wanted to know an older woman in a more personal manner. I mean, for as long as I can remember, this burning desire has been my secret passion. While my friends drooled over the latest young movie star or singer, I reserved my attentions for somebody…for somebody like you.”

         And he scooted closer again, with every heavy breath praying that Ursula would not reject his intentions. Ursula felt a pang of guilt—after all, this young man could be her great-grandson—but did not resist when the handsome young man reached his arm around her. Her aged wheezing only heightened John’s arousal. She pushed the cane on the ground and took out her dentures. As John’s steady hand crept up her varicose-laced leg, she could only lean back and pull up her skirt.