where it all began

The story that begins here almost too quickly spiraled into the tale of a quintessential hopeless romantic. Never Been Kissed cum How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days all wrapped up in a little ditty to the tune of He’s Just Not that Into You. The storyline unfolds something like this: Girl can count number of dates on hand in 25 years and is hopeless at meeting people, despite an abundance of advice from friends about wearing more make-up and not ‘dressing like a prairie woman.’ She has no problem attracting (unsolicited) wingmen. She’s probably had dozens. But, that’s about it. To complicate the matter, girl can’t take best friend anywhere without becoming sidekick to girl having all boys fall at feet. Thus, girl plots adventures through life where she unabashedly meets interesting fellows of all walks in unexpected places. Heroine gains confidence and all-out gusto as she confronts her (sometimes) social awkwardness and meets dashing young fellows who otherwise she would have just openly stared at in posh coffee shops and new-age art galleries.

That was all well and good and I surely would have provided you with at least a few chortles as you breezed through the entertaining tales of ridiculous encounters and intriguing cameos. And, well, that’s about it.

The reality is, it all starts like this: After applying for your 30th some-odd job in a couple months time, you begin to return to the childhood dreams of what you actually thought you might be. Because, damn, if starbucks is a stretch, then you may as well be reaching for your aspirtations as an astronaut or the tooth fairy.

But for me, it was a writer. That’s not entirely true. I wanted to be a singer slash dancer slash environmentalist missionary writer. But, foremost a writer. I filled countless journals with stories and kept a running list of children’s book themes that I would soon pen. And then, during some sad point in childhood you ‘grow up’ and discard your real dreams because somehow they became utterly impossible and someone, or maybe even yourself, told you they were impractical.

Here I become sidetracked from the said endeavor at hand.This is not about me actually trying to become a writer, just an adventure that began when I met one. So here it is. Over the next months I’d like to take you on an adventure with me. It all starts in a coffee shop, which I will describe in the next account, with a man who seemed nothing short of a gadfly. And before I left my unassuming new friend, I left these words scratched on a napkin:

"Lovelier to meet you than you may realize. Thank you."

And here, the story really begins.