**Writer’s Note:** This piece of fiction contains mature language and content. If this is not what you want to read, please choose something else.
Please also feel free to make comments, as this is not a genre I usually produce.
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This bar is not my kind of place at all – I stick out, like the proverbial sore thumb. There are thirty-somethings all around me, drinking and laughing. I can’t make head or tail of what I overhear, because I can’t figure out the context. So I just sit at my table – it was the first open table close to the door. I keep wondering what the hell is wrong with me.
I am 63 years old and meeting someone new.
I described myself to her as skinny fat, and she didn’t understand what I meant. I wear a size small, but I’m not toned even though I am a little taller than average. So I’m skinny but jiggly. She laughed and told me I’m cute. She said she saw the pic I posted on my profile. It’s the only pic I posted. I am not the type to take a boatload of pics of myself.