Meeting people is akin to receiving a gift.
I met Jacob a few days ago at a restaurant. He was playing in a jazz band, and watched as my date and I were seated at our table. I didn’t really see him until I passed him on the way to the restroom between the second and third course.
A lanky six foot tall, dishwater blond with an infectious smile and beguiling semi-sweet brown eyes, our gaze locked on each other, almost causing me to run into a busboy.
When I came out of the restroom I flagged my server and asked her to request I Left My Heart in San Francisco from the band and handed her a twenty.
The band played the song, and when on break, Jacob swaggered over to my table.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hello,” I replied.
“I appreciated the tip, but you didn’t have to,” he added.
“Thanks for the song, but you didn’t have to,” I replied.
Sometimes, in the most unlikely of places or circumstances, you meet a person that speaks your language.
And you stumble upon a new friend!