Justifiable frustration

At least, I certainly feel justified in being frustrated. I'm in a Wetherspoons, not especially geographically local to the flat, but easily accessible - it's at the far end of a bus route that stops only a few minutes walk from home - a pub I really rather like, it having always been a pub, as opposed to the converted shops, cinemas, and the like the chain seem to specialise in. And it's always been, in my experience, a good cutie-spotting location, probably because it's the only 'family-friendly' pub in its particular area, this evening being no exception. The star of the show has been a delicious fair-haired little guy, 10/11, who came in for tea with his dad after evidently, by his attire, having been playing football. They'd more or less finished eating when a couple, apparently friends of dad, ended up sharing their table. The boy didn't look all that enthusiastic about the new arrivals, but, of course, what boy of his age ever has any real interest in his parents' friends? Within a minute or two, though, a more substantive reason suggested itself. The male friend, who'd sat down next to the boy, seemed completely unable to keep his hands off of him. It was dressed up, needless to say, as 'play-fighting', but its persistence hinted that there might have been more to it. Maybe it's simply projection on my part, and jealousy that the man was able to engage in the sort of body contact I'd give my eye teeth for, but it is a phenomenon I've observed many times before - men, fathers, relatives, family friends, whoever, just seem to be magnetically attracted to cute boys, especially tweens/early pubescents. If confronted, they'd certainly deny any attraction in the most fervent way, and still vilify the likes of me, who admit to those very attractions, as the scum of the Earth. Sheer hypocrisy, as far as I'm concerned. Hence the frustration.

Let's & best wishes to all
Sammy B