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I met up with the crew at The Pub for another night of 80’s covers, shots, and beer. There’s a fair numbers of cuties around and our groups dissolves periodically as one or another of us approaches a girl. I’m in my element: relaxing, catching up with friends and employees (which are not mutually exclusive groups), and generally just joking around. In walks K——, the girlfriend of a one of the aforementioned friends/employees. K—— is one of the sweetest, coolest girls I’ve ever met. She’s intelligent and genuinely cares for those around her, with a quick wit and resiliency I’ve rarely encountered. She’s also dressed to the nines, a knee-length flowing black dress replete with plunging decolletage and black stilettos, all crowned by her bright blue eyes.

“Wow, I mean … wow! What’s the occasion? You look absolutely fantastic.”

“Thanks! Some friends and I went downtown to the House of Blues tonight to catch some up and coming bands. How’s your night going?”

“Pretty good, just getting out.” Through more such small-talk and catchup, I see my friends slowly scatter to give me space, not knowing that I already know this girl.

“You know, it’s kind of funny, my friends don’t know that I already know you, so they’re clearing out ‘cause they think I’m hitting on you. Of course, I totally would be if you were single.”

“I’ve been single for a year.”

I was shocked into utter silence. A chasm even Evil Knievel couldn’t bridge. She just stood staring at me. Talk about capturing my mind.

“Um, then I am hitting on you.”

She laughs it off. “Yeah, we kept it pretty low-profile. We’re good like that. So not everyone knows.”

We spent most of the rest of the night chatting, from the serious to the superficial, people watching and closing down the bar. We trade numbers but she’s not ready to start dating again. It’s too premature, she’s still in recovery mode.

For now.