How They Met -- Inspired by Actual Events

“So?”, her friend asked in that typical, and sincere, sing songy voice, “How’d you meet?”  After over three months it was actually the first time they were asked this together.  She nudged him and gave him a knowing smile.  He squeezed her hand gently.  “Let me guess,” the friend continued, barley noticing their reaction.  “I bet you met at a bar.”  She smiled at her friend and leaned into him, gently rubbing her cheek against his shoulder.  The feel of her against him always brought a warmth to his skin and a slight blush to his face.  He glanced at her with a tender smile then turned to look at her friend, to look past her friend and into the past.  He remembered . . . how well he remembered . . . he played and replayed that night in his mind every day.

 

He was supposed to finally meet someone from a dating site that he had been chatting with for the past week.  Chatting?  He never understood that.  Chatting meant talking.  Interacting.  Not trying to move your fingers fast enough on a keypad to assure you are answering the right questions in the right order.  So, by recent definition, they had been chatting yet never spoke.  They arranged to meet on Saturday night, 8:00, at a local chain restaurant, “You know,” the woman put it, “to see if we are copasetic.”  He was open to it.  He generally had nothing to do on Saturday evenings and the woman seemed nice.  He didn’t usually think much about how a woman looked but the picture she sent showed a cute smile and a rather ample everything else.  So at 7:55 he found himself outside the restaurant, glancing at her picture on his phone, and the single women arriving.

 

She was supposed to meet a friend at a nearby spot.  They had been there a number of times.  As usual she was running a bit late (“I’ll just say I was sure we decided on 8 and I didn’t remember 7:30”) and still patting her lips together to make sure her lipstick was dry as she tried to quickly walk to the door.  Her shoes were designed for a more elegant walk and she nearly tripped as she approached the door.  As she righted herself she noticed someone, a man, quickly get up to help her.  But she was a bit quicker than he and headed for the door.  His bearded face and silver hair registered with her.  His cheeks seemed to flush pink.  And something about his eyes.  His eyes.  Hers locked with his as she turned back to take just a quick peak of him before entering the restaurant.  A tiny smile seemed to play on his lips as he looked back at his phone.  The gentle smile turned to a slight frown. And he was gone as the door closed behind her.

 

His mind drifted as he glanced at his phone for the 5^th time.  “What the hell am I doing?” he heard his voice in his head.  “I stink at meeting people and I’m not dressed right, and she’s not going to find me interesting since I’m not going to talk, and . . . damn, I should be at home in bed watching DePalma and eating sauerkraut!  Why do you do this to me?”

As he glanced down at the picture again he heard the sound of rushing feet on the pavement and an almost indistinguishable “I’m sure it was eight, I’m sure it was eight,” whispering behind him.  He turned to see where that voice was coming from and saw a woman about to trip over the sidewalk.  He jumped up to help her but she gained her balance quickly.  For a moment, just the briefest of seconds, their eyes met.  In that moment he felt his stomach drop.  His face felt like it was on fire.  Her eyes.   They penetrated him.  Regaining his composure, he looked back down at his phone to see if in the wildest of possibilities, it could be her.  He realized though, he had only seen her eyes.  He looked up again to see her as she opened the door.  Again their eyes locked.  This time he saw her.  His mind could not assemble the correct letters to form the appropriate words to describe her.  Beautiful?  Adorable? Gorgeous?  Stunning?  None seemed to do justice to her delicate dark features, her piercing eyes, the genuine smile that played on her lips.  He smiled to himself, a knot formed in his stomach, he was sure she was the one.  His phone revealed true disappointment.  He looked up again.  Just to catch one more look at her.  But she was gone.

 

As she scanned the restaurant for her friend, she realized that she couldn’t get a particular smile out of her mind.  She smiled, just a little to herself.  And to the world.  From a brief glimpse she felt she saw tenderness, kindness, things she never believed she would see in a man again.  But her friend wasn’t there.  Her phone chimed.  It was a text from her friend.  “Sorry,” the letters appeared, “I am having a bit of an emergency and I won’t be able to make it.  Nothing to worry too much about.  Just not going to happen tonight.  You free tomorrow?  Maybe lunch?”  She scrolled through the message a couple of times, debating calling.  “Emergency?”, didn’t seem like something she should take lightly.  She tapped the phone icon and held the phone to her ear.  They spoke briefly.  It wasn’t really as much of an emergency, in the life threatening sense, but things needing attending to.  Made sense.  She hung up and placed the phone back into her purse.  “Well, guess I can get a drink, as long as I’m here.”  She looked to the bar which seemed awfully empty for a Saturday night, found a group of 5 or 6 empty stools, climbed up on the one in the middle and ordered a drink.  A nice Chardonnay.

 

It was 8:19 and his neck was getting sore from looking up and down to his phone.  He checked their chat site and she wasn’t there.  “Might as well get home,” he thought as he placed his phone in his shirt pocket.  He stood, yawned and turned to the parking lot.  “Hell,” he thought, “Might as well get a quick drink while I’m here”.  He was never one to just go out for a drink but he was out, he had dressed for the supposed occasion.  He might as well have a bit of an outing.  He went in.  The hostess asked him how many were in his party or if was expecting anyone.  He glanced at her, gave her a bit of a smile and told her he’d just get a drink at the bar.  There were a lot of empty seats.  Not a busy night, but that seemed to be the case in some of the restaurants so close to Christmas passing.  He sat down, pulled a bowl of pretzels close to him and began to nibble.  When asked, he ordered a Dewar’s Rocks with a twist of lemon.  It was a drink his dad used to order and had become a staple for him after his father’s passing. When the glass arrived, he held it up as if to toast.  “Miss you Dad”, barely escaped his lips.  As he brought the glass down to his lips he looked around the bar.  There she sat, sipping a glass of wine and, it must be his imagination, she seemed to be avoiding seeing him.  He had his first real opportunity to see her.  And yes, she was indescribable.  But he saw more than just “another pretty face.”  How to describe it.  There was an intensity; an intelligence; a certain sense of compassion.  He saw this all just in her expression.  The way she held her glass.  He had never experienced this before.  Never thought it was possible to see so much just by looking at someone.  She glanced his way and he quickly turned as he took too big of a gulp from the glass.  The liquid burned at the back of his throat and he coughed.  He could see an amused smile on her face from across the bar.  She wasn’t looking at him but he could almost tell she was sensing him.  “I cannot believe what I am thinking right now.”  He could feel the knot in his stomach tighten.  “But I so want to meet her.  Just hear her voice.”  He took a final drink from his glass and motioned for the bartender to refill it.  “But what would I even say.  I just can’t do this.  It isn’t me.”  The drink arrived and he stared into it.  Deep in thought.

 

She sipped at her wine and looked through her phone.  No missed calls.  No new texts.  Nothing interesting on Facebook.  She leisurely looked up and saw him sitting on a stool at the bar.  She watched as he ordered a drink and then seemed to offer a toast to, well, to someone.  Someone not with him.  She took a really good look at him for the first time.  His silver hair and beard seemed to hide a younger person, maybe not in years but in spirit.  She had seen his smile earlier.  Felt it was a genuine smile.  And accompanied by a seeming sparkle in his eyes.  As he offered the toast to who knows who, she saw a hint of melancholy, loss on his face.  But still a gleam in his eyes that seemed to hold . . . wait, he’s turning his head.  She looked away quickly and took a sip of wine.  She tried to spy him from the corner of her eye but was concerned that he might see her.  See her? He almost seemed to be staring, but not at her.  Past her.  Through her.  She decided to confront that gaze and turned her face directly to his.  He looked away as did she.  She heard a cough and smiled, amused at his reaction.  “I have got to stop this.  I don’t want to give him the wrong impression, “She thought, yet deep down, some where she hadn’t been to in a long time, she was hoping he would approach her.  Just to see him closer, to hear his laugh.

 

And he approached her.  “Hi,” there was more confidence in the word as it sounded than he had behind it. “There is nothing I can say to you that isn’t going to sound like a line so what the hell, uhm, heck, I saw you sitting here and told myself I need to meet her.”  He smiled.  Just the right amount.  And the sparkle reappeared in his eyes.  “And,” he continued, “that sounds exactly like a line.”  He feigned a more serious, ashamed look.  Nothing overboard but just enough to let her know that he wasn’t taking it that seriously.

She smiled back.  A real genuine smile.  A heartwarming smile.  She seemed to glow.  His stomach twisted, “What am I doing?” He did everything in his power to not let his self-doubt show on his face.

 

“Well,” how sweet was her voice, “I’m glad you did.”  The smile continued and she placed her hand on his.  They connected.  He could feel the sense of electricity coursing through ever part of his body.  It was a touch he had never felt before.

 He sat on the stool next to her and they talked.  And they talked.  And they laughed.  And she touched his hand, his arm, even a gentle hug when something he said struck her as funny.  Her not too high laugh matched his deeper chuckle the way two voices do in a choir.  They spoke of family and children.  Likes and dislikes.  And they talked.

 

Before they knew what time it was the bartender was asking them if they wanted another drink as it was last call.  He glanced at his phone to see the time, 1:45 AM.  Wow!! 

 

He took her coat from the stool next her (where she had left it earlier) and placed it on her shoulders.  They left together and he walked her to her car, her hand holding his arm.  Is that just a slight lean towards him?  Was that her head just grazing his shoulder?  When he got to her car, she unlocked it and he held the door for her to get in.  She turned, about to sit, and turned back to him, giving him a hug.  He held her.  Just long enough.  Just tight enough.  He drew back from the hug and looked into her eyes.  She looked back.  He saw the glow in hers; she the sparkle in his.  Nothing else crossed either of their minds.  They were in the moment.  They broke from the embrace together.  He held the door as she sat and then closed it for her.  She put the key in the ignition and rolled the window down.  “Goodnight,” she said with a smile, “It was certainly a pleasure to meet you.”

 

He put his hands awkwardly in his pockets and stared down at her.  “I’d, well I’d like to see you again.”  The nervousness, the twist in his stomach returned for the first time since he had first considered talking to her.  He knew the moment was ending and wanted to find a way for it to be continued.

 

“Of course,” she said with a smile in her voice that matched the one on her face.  “You have my number, call me.  Or text me.  I’d love to.”  He stepped back as the window rose and she backed out of the space.  He stood there for just a minute after she left.  Staring towards where her car had driven away.  The wind blew.  There was a slight nip in the air and for the first time in hours he could feel it.  He rubbed his arms and walked to his car.  No, he strolled, with a definite lightness in his step.

 

“. . . and then he texted me that same night when he got home.  He said something like I know this is too soon but I just wanted you to know that I had a really fun night.  Didn’t you?”  She looked up to see him gazing at, well, nothing, just gazing.  “Hey, are you with us?” she said with a chuckle in her voice.  He turned back to look at the two of them.

 

“Yes, yes indeed I am.” He wiped something from his eye.  He smiled at her as if no one else was in the room.

 

“Wait,” the friend shouted just a bit too enthusiastically.  “Wasn’t that the night I needed to get that plumber in because my washing machine was overflowing?”  As it all came together for the friend she looked first at him then her then him again, an increasing smile on her face.  As the friend spoke, he made a realization.  He embraced the friend, a tight sincere hug.

 

“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear as he released the embrace and they all began to laugh.