One balmy summer’s evening in early December 2000, I found myself out of my element posing as my housemate’s boss at an interior design function in a gay night club.
That night I had wanted nothing more than to stay at home and veg out.
I was hot, sticky and stinky after a long drive home from work in my non-air conditioned 1975 VW which reeked of petrol. All I wanted to do was have a shower and sloth in front of the TV to watch Buffy or something.
My housemate, an interior designer, had other ideas.
She and her boss were supposed to attend a product launch, but when her boss couldn’t make it the invite fell to me.
I swear if I hadn’t been at odds with my other housemate, I wouldn’t have gone out. I’m not the most outgoing person and the thought of having to schmooze and make conversation with strangers kind of terrified me. The thought of being home alone with my other housemate terrified me more though, so off I went.
And schmooze I did.
And fun I had.
Before long, I had my first significant conversation of the night with a stranger.
It was with one of my housemate’s old uni mates who happened to be at the function.
Shortly after being introduced, we got to chatting about random things and the subject quickly turned to star signs. (My job at the time involved publishing star signs on Channel Seven’s Teletext service and I was a little, how shall we say, obsessed with them).
That day, my star signs said I would meet my star match.
My housemate told her friend this and asked him if he knew any single guys.
That’s when a young guy in a suit and glasses was introduced to me. Shortly after began my second significant conversation of the night with a stranger.
His suit was an instant turn off for me. I was seriously over guys who were full of themselves and thought they were God’s gift.
I was looking for a down to earth guy, specifically not a pretentious ex private school boy.
We got to chatting and his crooked smile, kind eyes, and playful nature quickly drew me in.
We only chatted briefly that night, possibly one hour at the max.
The event finished and our conversation was cut short.
On the way home, my housemate and I debriefed about the guy speculating over whether he was in fact my star match. We quickly discounted him after deciding he looked too young.
A couple of days later, my housemate’s uni friend called her. His friend had asked for my number.
When the phone eventually rang, I took it and its long extension lead into my pantry and we chatted and chatted and chatted.
That short conversation with a stranger on a balmy summer’s evening in December 2000 when I least expected it, was the start of something special. It was the day I met my star match. (Thank you Kisha wherever you are).
Thirteen and a half years and two kids later we are still never lost for words.
Everyone is a stranger to each other at one point. It’s what happens from that first encounter that decides whether they remain a stranger forever or become something else.
Joining in today with always Josefa for Conversations over Coffee. On the last Thursday of each month, Josefa elects a topic to write about. This month’s theme was Conversations with strangers.
Also linking up With Some Grace for Flog Yo Blog Friday!