Giggle

My husband found my Bluesky account today (it was not a secret, he’s just not very online) and therefore learned about the guy that introduced himself to me at the gym last week.

Everyone knows but me! he said, as if it were news I had shared with any real life people. I cannot stop laughing, though, at the idea that anyone would hit on me at the gym. In the pool.

He was like seventy, I assured him, and his wife came to borrow his shoes. At least I think it was his wife, I said, it’s not like I was looking for rings.

You are jailbait for a seventy year old, he said.

I tried really hard to keep my giggle inside. It wasn’t easy. A little bit slipped out.

I’m so sorry, I said. And I was, because he was dead serious. There’s always been a part of him that worries. The giggle was just so bubbly and I had to let some of it out. I felt like my sister Megan just told a joke in church.

I just think it’s so hilarious, I said, trying to control myself, I mean, I REALLY appreciate that you think so highly of me, I let out some of that tickling giggle so I could breathe, but hon, I’m almost 52, I’m overweight and wrinkly. I wear a swim dress, with a built in romper under it, like a grandma, at the pool. No make up, no hair. NO ONE is hitting on me at the pool!

Is that why you always ask me to go with you, to keep the guys away?

Oh my god, I said, and I giggled. I giggled like my grandma and her sister used to giggle. I laughed from the deepest recesses inside of me that haven’t laughed that hard for a long, long time. My eyes watered. My face hurt from smiling.

I ask you if you want to go because I think it would be good for you, I said. Stress relieving. Relaxing. I have to go back to work.

I laughed again on the way upstairs. Every so often at my desk I could feel it bubbling up inside and I giggled some more. It felt good.

I’ve entered the invisible years. Nobody tell my husband, he won’t believe you anyway. I love him so much.

Nic