Harry walked up the stairs to the porch in a huff, like only an eleven-year-old boy can do. I leaned forward putting my sweat-covered glass on the wood planks. “What has your panties in a wad?” It was said in a way only a step-great grandfather could ask.

Harry stopped and considered what I had said. “Margrette said she wouldn’t...” His voice trailed off.

He had probably two years before he would be asking Margrette, currently a sweet ten-year-old, to do something she should say no to. I told the frozen boy, “Girls and women are going to be telling you no on and off for the rest of your life. So you better not get your panties in a wad every time.”

I looked back through the window at my beautiful partner. She was tending her mint plants in the window. Her eyes were squinting making the small crow’s feet more pronounced. Yet she was still gorgeous to me. Even the gray at her scalp would be turned back to the chestnut of her youth. But only when she decided the gray made her look old. I thought it made her look more radiant. Still, secure in herself after all these years she had overcome the self-doubt that came from being under the repressive thumb of an EX.

Pointing to the world’s most beautiful woman in my opinion I said, “Great-gran M tells me no all the time. And has for years but you don’t see me getting into a huff or acting childish.”

The boy didn’t like being told he was acting like a child. He argued, “But I held her hand all during the movie. And all I asked for in return was a kiss.” Muttering to himself he said, “See if I hold her hand again.”

I figured it was time for a quick lesson. “So the next time she asks to hold your hand, you’re going to say no? And that is going to get you your kiss?” The boy shook his brown mop. “Did you try telling Margette she is pretty or that you like her?”

Again the boy shook his head no, “That’s girl stuff. Guys don’t say that mushy stuff.”

“I must not be a guy,” I informed the grossly misinformed youth. “I tell your Great Gran M she is beautiful all the time. And, I have since the day I was fairly sure I wouldn’t get slapped. Though it would have been hard to do through a telephone.”

The young boy was doing the calculation in his head. Yet he still wanted to boil it down to A + B = C. “So Great-gran M doesn’t kiss you unless you hold her hand and tell her she is pretty.”

“Well, I don’t know. I’ve not kissed her and she won’t hold my hand, no matter how many times I ask. I’m hoping she will hold my hand one day. That is why I keep asking her. Maybe that way she will kiss me. And I won’t have to rub her feet.” I teased the boy.

“You mean you rub her old lady feet to get a kiss?” Harry didn’t see the problem with calling them old lady feet. “And why doesn’t she hold your hand?”

“I have old man hands. So I don’t mind,” I informed him. “Some people don’t like public displays of affection. But I will tell you something women and girls like even less. Giving up and quitting asking politely. Only when a woman tells you to quit asking do you quit. And then you have to find something else they’ll say yes to every now and then.”

“So you’re telling me even if I am told no. I have to continue to ask politely. And when Margrette says to stop I have to stop and look for something else she will say yes to. And I have to tell her she is pretty and possibly rub her feet just for a kiss? Girls are just too hard to make happy,” the boy looked disillusioned.

“True, But you should never stop trying,” I told him. “Now go inside and get ready for dinner.”

The boy was no more gone than the love of my life was standing in the open door, “You old coot. We are easy to please. Just do what we say.”

If thirty years had taught me anything, I had learned, “Yes my goddess how could I forget that.” We both laughed and carried on with our evening.