Well, Anon, I was 39. Had had two and a half girlfriends, and had just been dumped by one of them after a six month relationship. I’d pretty much resigned myself that I was going to hit 40 without a partner, and that would be the end of it.
People at my workplace heard too much about all of that. Including one Tamar E. Tamar E. was an annoying corporate presence at work, who’d pilfer my Bach CDs and talk about her dog and get on my nerves. As, I gather, I got on hers.
Time came, eventually, for one Tamar E. to leave my workplace. The last day she was at my workplace, she dropped her guard, and talked about her fears and feelings, which got my attention. I made sure a couple of us took her out to dinner, and walked her back to her car, which got her attention.
And over the next few months, we’d catch up for lunch or dinner every couple of weeks, and chat. To the surprise of everyone that knew us both.
Tamar one evening was feeling down in the dumps, at the house of the colleague who we went to dinner with. The colleague said that she was too young to be hanging out with old-timers like her; she should be out having a good time, and enjoying herself while she could.
So, inspired by her colleague, she went through her contact list. X was out of town, Y was on a date, Z she hadn’t seen in too long… right after the archly gay M, who decided he had better things to do that evening, she fell on Nick’s name.
So Tamar randomly called Nick, and asked if he wanted to go for a drive.
And it was random alright. She was driving erratically, she was nervous, she was talking too fast. By the time we’d left the café, Nick could totally tell. She was into him.
Which was the furthest thing from Tamar’s mind. (Remember, she’d called the archly gay M before Nick.)
So. Tamar had to get home from the café, and Nick was kind enough to drive. Halfway there, Tamar needed to go to the bathroom. Could Nick stop at a pub or something?
“Well… I’ve got a bathroom at my place.”
When Tamar came out of the bathroom, there were two shot glasses of Croatian walnut brandy waiting. Because, well, Tamar’s a visitor, and that’s what you offer visitors. Only, Tamar, don’t scull…
By the time Tamar retired into the guest bedroom, in no state to drive, Nick had decided this was so, so going to happen.
It so, so didn’t. The next morning, Tamar ran out in a mild panic.
And Nick invited himself along for breakfast.
And after breakfast, Nick tried to kiss Tamar, and Tamar ran out in a less mild panic.
Reader, I married her. (Three and half years later, to the day.) We got together the following week.
What is the takeaway lesson for you, Anon?
If Tamar hadn’t decided to take a chance that night, and just live a little, nothing would have happened.
If Nick hadn’t decided to take a chance, and totally misread the cues Tamar was sending (or at least, interpret them prematurely), nothing would have happened.
If Tamar hadn’t decided to take a chance, and ask me if I meant to kiss her a week later, nothing would have happened.
If Nick hadn’t decided to take a chance, and said, yes I did, and then do it, nothing would have happened.
Take a chance. How much, truly, do you have to lose?