I missed you when you stopped doing the wine tastings. Then it was months
of “I’m-going-to-ask-her-out” sightings. When I finally did, you said you
had sold your house and would be moving to London in two days, that your
car was so cluttered because you’d been almost living in it before leaving.
It sounded like the start of a new adventure or a graceful improvisation to
deflect a stranger’s attention – either way, charming. When I joked “Why
not Paris?” you replied, “There’s a man.” and I thought “Of course there
is!” I’m glad we met. Samuel Johnson said that if a man tires of London, he
is tired of life. With you there, I doubt the man will tire of London. If
he does, or you do, you know where to send a jeer.