It was an afternoon of non-sequiturs. As if serendipity herself had decided to take me by the arm this sunny day in Palo Alto.
I live in San Francisco, and rather half-heartedly had agreed to meet a potential client in Palo Alto, only because it was convenient and I already had some other business to attend to on the Peninsula.
That first appointment was over in ten minutes, yet I had budgeted two hours. Ah well. It was a sunny day on a motorcycle after all. What am I complaining about? I’m starving, and I send a quick text, re: lunch, to the girl in Palo Alto that I had met a month before rather randomly and briefly at a restaurant and bumped into later that night at a concert venue.
Our first meeting, that night at the restaurant consisted of nothing much more than a gaze and a touch, and although I had a hunch of depth and passion, there were only a few sporadic follow-up texts, and I hadn’t really banked on seeing her again. So the fact that we did meet up at all, a month later, last Sunday, was a nice turn of events.
The tête-à-tête at the beach on Sunday was fun, and I found myself enjoying her company and sense of humor quite a bit, and was intrigued by her story.
So, as I’m finding myself stranded on the Peninsula with almost two hours to kill, her number was my first choice. She replies right away: “I just took a break …”
Ah well. So I’m heading to Palo Alto, for a solitary lunch and a few moments to relax, when just as I’m leaving the coffee shop for my prospective client’s office, she gets back “I would have loved to say a quick hello …”
Ah well, again! But business is business. I’m toying briefly with the idea of a random make-out behind a palm tree on the Stanford campus and running late with my client. But a sense of purpose and duty welling up from deep got the better of me and reminds me that breaking a commitment for a girl is a sure way of getting burnt and she wouldn’t appreciate it either (in the long run), and with a sigh I head off to meet the client.
The meeting goes fantastically well, they wanted me to start on the spot, and for a ton of money—which again I couldn’t. Commitments, commitments … “This is all a test,” I’m thinking, and as I walk out of the office with time to spare and in high spirits, I call her.
She says she’s heading over to California Avenue, but she’s meeting a girlfriend in half an hour. I tell her to cancel, mostly just to see what the reaction would be, but she doesn’t even take the bait, instead saying “You can come.”
Wow. Invited to the girl-on-girl date, girl-on-girl talk. I was impressed with myself, and with vanity-swelled chest I try to think of the most girly conversation topics I could come up with. Thankfully we had just bantered with pink flip-flops, pastel tops, neon blue panties, convertibles, yoga, and then some.
So I head over there, getting lost, of course, and arriving at the exact same time as her at the appointed place, but it’s now half an hour later and she’s supposed to meet her friend …
I’m assuming they’re meeting in a coffee shop, as she had talked about Starbucks before, and this suits me as I’m thirsty like a bear, and I’m confused when she’s looking at me to take the lead on where I want to go.
Not playing into that weakness, I state my desire for a refreshment, and we head across the street. Only then I dare to pop the question, if she’s not meeting the friend in a coffee shop.
