Authors: J F Elferdink
“Now that’s a new dilemma. My children don’t think I can attract members of the opposite sex any more. It’s true I haven’t had a date in a few years but only because I didn’t take the time to look.”
“We know that, Dad. You’ve got so much to offer! But, because of your constant traveling, we think your best bet is an online dating service. Several of our friends swear it’s the only way to find a good match.” As she said this, Claire gave her father-in-law a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Succumbing to her persuasive tactic, Mark agreed to look into it.
By the time Mark left for home the next day, a subscription to “SeniorFriendFinder” and a detailed profile already awaited his approval.
Janine Receives a Message
Just as I was about to give up on Internet matchmaker services, a message came from ‘Bluewatersailor: Good catch for a good woman.’ His profile started:
“Until now, I have not had the time to find my special companion. However, the clock keeps ticking and I think I am missing something.”
The basic information profiled a man two years older than me who spoke two foreign languages, French and German
,
and had an MBA. He had a multitude of interests including cooking, exercise
,
sailing, traveling and reading.
The only reason his profile was not a 100% match was the miles—actually an ocean—between us. I looked up the distance between his primary home in Geneva and mine in Detroit: 4,200 miles.
His first note furnished the fundamentals not included in his profile. He gave his name as Mark and said he had recently purchased a temporary home on the west side of Michigan. That was a mere three-hour drive from mine. I could handle that much space between us. Actually it might be just about right, since I wasn’t looking for a man who required constant attention. In spite of an outsized red flag—his primary residence—I wrote back.
The next evening he called. The voice on the other end projected a calmness and confidence I found appealing.
“Janine, how are you? I’ve read your email several times.”
“Mark, I’m really glad to hear from you!” I carefully set my full glass of Riesling on the living room table so it wouldn’t spill.
After all, it was the first time I’d been noticed by a guy from an exotic place known for clocks, chocolates, and secret bank accounts.
“Are you calling from Switzerland?”
“No, I would have had to set my alarm for 3 a.m. to make this call from there—not that I wouldn’t have! But today I’m just across the state from you. Is this a good time to talk?”
“It’s a great time! I was just trying to decide whether to start a movie or read a book. You gave me a more interesting option.”
“Another reader; I prefer historical novels and biographies. Which genres are the favorites of an intelligent woman?”
I smiled to myself and took a sip of wine.
“I really like science fiction. C.S. Lewis’
Space Trilogy
is my favorite, and I loved Carl Sagan’s
Contact
.”
“I remember being awed by the special effects in the movie version of
Contact
with Jodie Foster. Didn’t she get to travel to a distant galaxy in a space ship designed by aliens?”
“Your memory is very good about the movie version, Mark, although I liked the book better. In the book, the original flight team represented five countries, not just America, and most of the developed world united behind the project.
“
I wish world leaders could find such a cause in our lifetime! Oops, I’m sorry, Mark. I shouldn’t be bringing up causes the first time we talk.”
“Don’t worry, Janine, I got it that you have liberal leanings when I read the description of your neighborhood: ‘A place where homeless pilfer the trash and most yards are planted with ‘No War’ signs.’ Did I get that right?”
“Word for word; did you copy my profile?”
“Uh, Janine, why DO you live among homeless people and hang out with nuns?”
“Because Corktown feels like community; I’m not invisible to my neighbors. Some say street parking has something to do with it and the nuns look out for strays, both felines and female transplants.”
Mark chuckled. “I was one of those traditional invisible neighbors before moving to Geneva.”
He continued; “Why’d you move to Detroit?”
“For a job which ended in just a few months but, by then, I was already hooked on the urban lifestyle. I guess Geneva offers that, too. What’s it like to be an expat in an international city?”
“Where do I begin? Let’s see; I walk more than drive, which is a good thing since I’m addicted to the wonderful Swiss pastries and chocolates.”
I was thinking of Mark’s picture as he admitted this. “I didn’t see any extra weight on the man in the photo. Is it a recent shot?”
Mark replied. “Maybe I should send you photos of the hills near my home. They’re better than a treadmill for keeping one’s weight under control. Don’t think I’m a fitness fanatic, though. When I get together with my neighbors, the spreads might be obscene to serious dieters.”
“Are your neighbors primarily local people, or transplants like you?”
“Mostly locals; I live in a village just outside the city limits. Younger expats typically choose Zurich for its nightlife. But I like a more peaceful environment, especially when it comes with phenomenal scenery.”
“I’ve seen photos of Swiss lakes with the surrounding mountains reflected in their glassy water. Is that what you see when you look out your windows?”
“Not quite. I have to walk a couple of miles for those views. The landscape is impressive, but so are the people; they come here from all over the world.”
“I bet you’ve heard some amazing stories.”
“Well, yes, and I promise to share some if I may call you again. I’m sorry to have to go, but I have a breakfast meeting in Chicago.”
We talked again within the week. In between, I got friendly little text messages. After the third phone conversation, we agreed to a face-to-face meeting or, as he put it; ‘the four eyes test’, a reference to the Chinese position that talking and writing are only storytelling. It takes looking into the eyes of the storyteller to know the truth.
Anticipation and nervousness knotted my stomach as I got started on planning how to make a good first impression.
***
“You must be Mark. You look just like your picture.”
He stood, and the way he nodded and looked directly into my eyes reminded me of Humphrey Bogart in a scene from
Casablanca
.
“I’m Janine—and I’m sorry I’m late!”
He gave me a quick hug before I settled across from him in the booth.
“Relax, you’re here, and I’m delighted.” His smile conveyed approval and helped me feel more at ease.
I looked him over quickly, trying not to be too obvious. Very nice smile, neatly dressed in khakis and a classy checked shirt. He was shorter than I had imagined but trim, with lively blue eyes, the kind that seem to take in every detail; all good so far.
The first couple of hours together were fairly typical for a first date: sharing our best stories over dinner and drinks in a nice restaurant.
An occasional slip of his mask made me wonder what I, too, might be revealing. His expressions assured me I was doing okay.
“Mark, how did you get your overseas job? I wanted to work in international service after returning from the Peace Corps. But I couldn’t make it happen.”
“I knew someone. At least that got me my first job at UB
EC
. An old friend from my first banking job gave his boss my name.
My current position—although with the same bank—came as a complete surprise. It was not what I woke up thinking would happen that day.”
“I’ve had job surprises, too, but not the kind you’re talking about. So what happened?”
“The senior exec, someone I’d only waved at in passing, came to my cubicle and invited me to lunch, where he told me I’d been chosen to run a client’s bankrupt shipping company
.
A
significant pay increase was attached to the offer. As you might imagine, I was astounded.”
“I can imagine!” In truth, I couldn’t; it was more the stuff of fairy tales.”
“How long did it take you to say yes?”
“Actually, I wanted to turn it down. I really didn’t think I could handle it. That was about seventeen years ago when the company had three ocean-going freighters. It’s a lot different now; more headaches with thirty-one.”
“How’d you know what to do? None of my banking colleagues could’ve pulled that off.”
“They called up my naval record as proof. And once I agreed to try it, I wouldn’t allow myself to think of failing, even though it meant focusing, almost exclusively, on my work. Well, that and my son, of course. I don’t regret it, but I think it’s time to….”
“…find a special companion?” Then I thought, ‘You’re pushing it, Janine’, so I added, “At least, that’s what you said in your profile.”
Just then the waiter returned, bringing with him a tray of desserts. We agreed to split a piece of their sinful chocolate cake. When Mark wiped a crumb off the corner of my mouth, I was both embarrassed and pleased.
I said quickly: “Was this cake as good as what you get in Geneva?”
Mark looked up at me, smiling. “I enjoyed this much more.” He added: “Do you want to go for a walk? Isn’t there a fountain at the edge of the downtown district?”
As we walked, the sun was shining but only a warming glow and the wind was blowing, but it was just a gentle breeze.
The shops were already closed so we met few others going our way.
Mark returned to the subject of my world.
“Janine, what’re some things you’ve done that changed you.”
“My most fascinating, and frustrating, experience was being in the first group of Peace Corps volunteers to go to Kazakhstan but it’ll be easier to describe if I show you my photo album. So I guess I’ll tell you…”
“Wait! You’re the first American I’ve met who’s lived in Kazakhstan. And you couldn’t have gone when you were young because the door was closed to foreigners.
What drew you to the Peace Corps and why the former Soviet Union? I suspect that wouldn’t be most volunteers’ first choice.”
He seemed sincerely interested so I tried to explain.“Curiosity mostly, and some frustration with my life; the idea of doing what I had been doing, but in a place where private business had been forbidden, fascinated me.”
“Sounds reasonable, but how did you manage to get into the Peace Corps? I thought they primarily solicited young college grads.”
“One day I was at a party and overheard a woman telling someone about her friend who had just gone to Russia with the Peace Corps. In the first group ever to go! That sounded interesting, but I soon forgot about it.”
“That can’t be the end of the story. What prompted you to pursue it?”
“A few months later I was in Detroit for a small business conference. The conference center just happened to be near the Peace Corps office so I dropped by.
“
Less than two months later my invitation came. The country listed was Kazakhstan, a place I hadn’t even heard of.
“
Thank God I had a world globe, a recent gift from my daughter. After finding the place, I was dazed—my assignment request had been granted. And it happened so quickly I couldn’t change my mind.”
Mark asked a lot of questions, the open-ended kind I try to teach my students to use when doing primary research.
By the time we got to the fountain, I was quite comfortable with him.
“Janine, this plaque says a former resident presented the city with this fountain in memory of his father. Why do you think he chose to replicate the Temple of Love at Versailles as his tribute?”
“His father fell in love in France? But I think it’s more likely that his wife chose the design. She may have intended to inspire her son to enter the temple of love and give her oodles of grandchildren.”
“You’re a crazy lady; and cute! Is it impertinent to hold your hand in front of a temple of love? I promise we won’t go inside…just yet.”
The farewell kiss was a doorway into that temple. His lips tracing mine, drawing with their movement a very slight but conscious longing, buried deep inside
,
punctuated the end of our first date like an exclamation point ending a sentence that deserves special emphasis.
The next morning, an e-mail message was waiting. It consisted of only three letters: WOW!
I replied, confirming that we were in agreement on first perceptions. It was a better first date than I could remember, not because he came bursting into my world as a knight in shining armor but because he was an unusually good conversationalist and because he made me feel appreciated.