Call me…


I don’t think I’ve ever told this story before.

Many years ago I worked in West Melbourne. There was a vacant property next to our building which was used as a parking lot. Among the cars parked there everyday was a red VW Beetle convertible. It was shiny and cute, and the driver wasn’t bad either.

She was tall and blonde and very beautiful. She was about my age, and I would see her occasionally from the window of our building when she parked or left to go home. I was intrigued and, naturally, drawn to her.

Back then I was in my prime. I was tall too, and blonde as she was, good-looking, and had wit besides. I figured we made a good match.

One day I came up with a scheme. I didn’t know who she was or where she worked, but I knew I wanted to meet her. On impulse I wrote a note to her. It was short and teasing, and left much to the imagination.

That was my theory then and now. Be direct. Keep it brief. And leave them wondering. In other words, leave them wanting more.

I can’t remember what I wrote exactly, but it wouldn’t have been more than a sentence or two. I don’t know who you are, but I’m keen to find out. Give me a call. Daniel.

It would have been something like that – Daniel being my pseudonym for the occasion.

I almost chickened out, but by now the office had got wind of what I was thinking and found themselves excited by it. In their minds it was pretty typical H, and they were very happy to live vicariously by my feats. And so while I dithered one of my colleagues, an older man, Rick, from Geelong, volunteered to take to down for me and stick it under her windscreen wiper. I couldn’t refuse that.

The next day I got a call, but when I answered the caller hung up. The receptionist had told me it was a woman calling. About 5 minutes later a fax came through – what you see above.

For reasons I can’t understand I never called her – instead I took the bolder route of going over to her office and asking for her.

It’s funny, I don’t remember any of that meeting, and ultimately nothing came of it – I think we both got cold feet simultaneously.

I’ve just come across this again going through my stuff, a keepsake. Hard to believe it’s so long ago, and so much happened since. I wonder she is and what’s she’s doing. I wish now I’d ventured more, but not to be.

If you’re reading this now Yolanda, I owe you a drink, and happy to oblige. Better late than never. Call me…

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