There Are No 'Strangers' in Texas, Just Friends Who Have Not Yet Met

This morning was the Book Sale at our local library, so off I went this morning. I love books, so being able to buy bunches of books for under a dollar each is a must-do. I keep the books I love and want to read again, and give the others as party-gifts to our friends. I got to the book sale early, and as I was browsing among the tables, I saw my friend "F." We laughed and said "Long time no see!" In truth, we had gotten together just last night, along with our friend "A." The three of us had a 'girls night out' at our local Greek Deli and we "laughed till we hurt," as the saying goes down here.

After "F" and I had purchased more than our share of books, I asked her if she wanted to go to Einstein's for breakfast. Einstein's is our local bagel shop, which has a great variety of freshly-baked bagels and muffins-- the best NY-style bagels we can find in southeast Texas. I'm sure if I had just flown in from New York yesterday, I wouldn't think Einstein's bagels are as good as New York bagels, but we've been here for eleven years, so the NY-bagel-taste has worn off a long time ago now. Be that as it may, off the two of us went in my car, talking about the good time we had at the Greek restaurant last night.

There we were in Einstein's, standing on line and ordering our breakfast.... "F" was giving me a hard time because I wanted to pay the bill. She insisted on paying, and I kept telling her to put her money away because I had invited her, so it was going to be my treat. I do this quite often with this dear friend, for the simple reason that she's quite older than I am and my budget is larger than hers and I try to let her save her pennies and dollars whenever I can. ('Quite older.' She is going to get me for that one.)

While she was trying to insist that she pick up the breakfast tab, we hear a British voice behind us saying "Well, if you insist on paying for a breakfast, you can pay for mine." We both turned around--- and connected to that wonderful British accent was a nice-looking older gentleman in shorts and a golf shirt and golf cap. Clearly, he had just come off the course and was getting his Saturday breakfast.

As "F" is asking about his accent (since she is British herself) I looked at this gentleman carefully and took note of his nice manner, kind eyes, gentle face, and (!) no wedding ring. (Forgive me, but I am always 'on the lookout' for a suitable, un-attached man for "F." And this man was from England... how perfect was this?)

When I could get a word in edge-wise, since "F" and Mr. Golf were chattering away, I asked the gentleman if he was ordering breakfast to go, or would he be eating in the restaurant. He said he always had his breakfast there after playing golf. Perfect. Would he like to join us? Lovely, said he, in that most-proper British accent. More perfect still.

So there the three of us were.... "F" and the gentleman on one side of the booth, drinking their coffee and enjoying their bagels and talking all about England; me on the other side of the booth with my tea and bagel, enjoying this serendipitous encounter. The more they talked, the more pleased I was. Darn proud of myself for asking "F" if she wanted to come here for breakfast. I could barely contain myself. Sitting there with a smile on my face, stirring my tea that didn't need to be stirred, breaking my bagel into the tiniest of pieces, hardly able to sit still. The conversation hardly came to a halt between this gentleman and "F" -- within the first 25 minutes of sitting down at the table, it seemed as if we had all known one another for ages.

Party-planner that I am, my mind was racing ahead. Does this gentleman play Charades? I could invite him to our Halloween Party this month. Would he like to come to our Christmas Open House party? Thinking further ahead, a spring wedding would be perfectly lovely, out in the backyard (I'd have to ask the gardener to put fresh mulch in the flower-beds). We could have a celebration dinner at Babbo Bruno's with our Charades group after the ceremony. Or maybe a December wedding in our living room, in front of our ceiling-high Christmas tree?
I looked at his left hand again. No wedding ring. I looked at his face once more. Very gentle eyes, an easy smile. He looked to be, more or less, about "F's" age. Wasn't this all too perfect? But wait. What if he took off his ring when he played golf?

I had to ask.... let's get this out of my mind and onto the table. By this time, of course, we had all introduced ourselves. I told "C" that I had two questions to ask him, if he didn't mind. "Are you married?" said I. "Yes," he answered--quickly, decisively, not a drop of hesitation. (Sign of a good, loving, devoted husband.) As my groom-balloon for "F" burst into bits (and I carefully controlled my face so I wouldn't convey that) I asked him if he played Charades. He asked me why I asked that question and I explained about our group of friends who get together at my house every couple of months for dinner and Charades. I told "C" that I would love to add him and his wife to our invitation list.

I gave "C" my name, address and phone number. I told him to please have his wife call me so I could tell her about our parties and introduce myself over the phone. Now, unless you live in a neighbor-friendly part of the country, you will most likely think I have lost my mind. But, as they say in southeast Texas-- "There are no strangers here, just friends you haven't met yet." My sister will think I'm nuts when I tell her this story. When I go visit her in NY, she tells me not to smile at people on the street, and not wave to people in cars. Well, why not? That's what we do here. My sister insists that if I continue to do that in NY, I will have people either following me or calling the police on me. I moved out of NY over eleven years ago. I guess I've forgotten the rules up there.

Anyway.... back to this morning. The three of us sat there and talked and laughed for nearly an hour and a half. Before we all said good-bye, I again asked "C" to have his wife call me so I could tell her about our parties. And "F," wanting to take some measure of control in all of this, asked "C" for his home number so she could call his wife herself to tell her they must let me invite them to our parties.

Driving "F" back to the library where her car was parked, I told "F" how sad I was that "C" was married. "Goodness, don't be sad," she said.... "We just made a new friend, and that's a happy thing, not a sad thing. And his wife must be a truly lovely person and I'm sure we'll be meeting her, so that will be two new friends."

Ah... "F" is older and wiser than I, and the groom-balloon that I had inflated for her had been my morning wish, not hers. I told "F" that I hoped "C" didn't think I had lost my mind when I asked him if he was married. "Oh honey, he knew exactly why you asked him that!" What? How could he, said I. "Well, you were sitting there on your side of the booth, looking back and forth between me and him, and grinning from ear to ear and pulling that bagel into itty-bitty pieces, and even I could hear the wedding march you were playing in your head."

Match-making. Maybe it's not my forte. I think I should just stick to party-planning.