If not for an unexpectedly swift round of golf and the unfortunate scarcity of Ann Taylor Loft stores in San Francisco, our paths might never have crossed!
I (Mike) somehow played the round of my life—though, for the sake of credibility, let’s not ask my golf buddies to verify that claim. Finishing early for once, I seized the opportunity for a timely lunch at my favorite spot, HopMonk. That’s when I saw her—this stunning woman, sitting alone. My highly refined deductive skills told me she was on the verge of leaving, as her plate was cleared and the bill had already been paid. Resigned to my fate, I was about to let the moment slip away—until my bartender friend, Ricky, rushed over with urgent news: this mystery woman, Katie, was from Cleveland too, and we had to talk!
What started as a quick introduction turned into nearly two hours of effortless conversation—long enough for Katie to decide that Bay Area traffic had finally calmed enough for her to make the trek back to San Francisco from Novato without losing her sanity.
Now, I’d love to say I was the bold one who asked for her number first—but that honor actually goes to Katie. She beat me to it, and we exchanged numbers before she headed out. Not long after, an older woman named Laura, who had apparently been observing our entire interaction, turned to me and said, “Mike, you better call that girl. She was really into you.”
I, ever the smooth operator, casually dismissed the notion. “Oh, she was just being nice,” I shrugged.
Laura, unimpressed, leveled me with a stare and declared, “Mike, if you don’t call that girl, you are a f**ing idiot.”
And so, taking Laura’s sage wisdom to heart—I made the call.

The rest, as they say, is history in the making!