Women rarely give me the once-over when I’m roaming around Los Angeles. They duck my glances like champs. I used to be a combination of Peter O’Toole in What’s New Pussycat and Michael Fassbender in Shame, but those days are over. I’m past my sell-by date and I know it. But early this afternoon in Durango I was smiled or winked at three times, I swear, by mildly attractive 40ish women and a couple of ladies actually struck up a conversation with me in an airport diner. Women grin at no one in Los Angeles. They’re guarded and picky, and who can blame them? But today in Durango was like a time-machine visit back to 1985, and it felt kind of great. Okay, two of the smiles happened inside a Walmart. And it has to be acknowledged that Durango is kind of a downmarket place. A fair portion of the women look a little worse for wear. A little too much smoking and drinking, bad foods, not working out. Not a happy place. You can half-sense how hard it’s been. Loads of Trump-Pence signs.