A ‘meet-cute’ is when two people have an amusing or charming first encounter that ultimately leads to a romantic relationship between them. Interestingly, despite it seeming like a recent term, meet-cute originates from 1938. It was coined by film director Ernst Lubitsch to describe the first encounter between the characters in the movie Bluebeard's Eighth Wife, starring Claudette Colbert and Gary Cooper.
For me, when I think of meet-cutes in my life, I go back to 2004 when I was introduced to a girl through my work at the time. I was immediately smitten with her and needed to hold on to a chair to keep my shaking legs from giving way. Yes, we did end up in a serious romantic relationship.
That being said, that particular meeting was a setup. It didn’t happen serendipitously, which I think is necessary in a real meet-cute. In terms of a true meet-cute, I do have a story that has not been told much, mostly because it doesn’t turn out the way a meet-cute should. For this story, we go back to the days of yore in 2016. This is the right meet-cute story that happened at the wrong time.
In the early fall of 2015, I had a serious, or in my mind serious, relationship end. I had spent years, too many of them, chasing someone that I thought was worth it. I was thinking with the wrong organ, and must have been briefly colorblind to not see all of the red flags surrounding this person. Lies, secrets, and hooking up with someone else turned what I thought was the real deal into a life lesson that virtually destroyed my sense of self-worth and self-esteem.
I had to find out much of these things from mutual friends at our gym who had spotted her with this other guy. Humiliated and distraught, I had to change gyms and pick up the pieces of my broken soul and try to pretend like it didn’t hurt as much as it did. I felt cold, alone, and helpless.
One thing I had gotten into, thanks to this now-ex girlfriend, was running. It had helped turn me into the best version of myself, at least physically, in my late 30s. Despite her breaking my heart, I didn’t want to give up running, as that had brought me so much joy. I also didn’t want to risk running into her at any local races since she ran them as much as me. Thus began my quest to find races off the beaten path. I looked for races just far enough away that I knew she wouldn’t be there.
We move ahead to May 29, 2016. I found a race that would be the perfect combination of exercise and a fun travel day. The Oak Bluffs Memorial Day Road Race was a 5K (3.1 miles) taking place on the island of Martha’s Vineyard.
I needed to take a car, then a boat, and then a bus to get to the starting line. The weather was sunny and in the low 70s, pretty much perfect for running. I brought with me a small black Adidas drawstring backpack to keep belongings in and a long-sleeved shirt for after the race. I left them in the lobby of the Summercamp Hotel. The funny thing is that I had no worries about anything being stolen. I had learned through dozens of races that runners are just decent people.
The race began on Lake Avenue in Oak Bluffs, not far from Ocean Park, for those who know the area. One of the best parts of my day was getting to do my stretching warmup among the gingerbread cottages of the Martha’s Vineyard Camp Meeting Association (MVCMA). My favorite in particular is an orange cottage. Preparing mentally for a race was easy in those surroundings.
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| The orange cottage I love so much. |
Much of the actual race is lost to time in my mind. I remember there being more hills than I thought there would be. I know we passed by several spots I wanted to go back and photograph. The finish line was back in front of the Summercamp Hotel.
The results were as good as I could have hoped for. I finished the race in 21:30, good for 31st out of more than 500 runners. It was a 6:55 per mile pace, which ends up being about 8.7mph if anyone wants to jump on a treadmill and see what it feels like.
I had run in all black as was tradition, in skin-tight UnderArmour compression gear. Hey, I was 8% body fat and enjoyed showing it off. My prize was a blue ribbon, but I think that was for completing the race, not for anything time-related.
After regaining my composure, I grabbed my gear from the hotel lobby and headed for lunch at the ArtCliff Diner in Vineyard Haven. It’s highly recommended by me. I delayed my time leaving the Vineyard to return to Cape Cod, as I could have easily grabbed the next ferry. This is where the meet-cute begins.
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| After the race, with my ribbon |
It must have been mid-afternoon. I could tell by how far the child’s shadow stretched out. Wait, sorry, I slipped into Dishwalla’s Counting Blue Cars. So it was mid-afternoon when I boarded the Steamship Authority ferry back to Woods Hole on Cape Cod.
I was coming down from the runner's high and a slight food coma. I walked my way around the ferry and could have chosen any seat anywhere, but I chose one and sat down. I had my headphones and smartphone, so I zoned out watching the waves and settling in for roughly a forty-five-minute trip across Vineyard Sound.
Now I am pretty sure I had my music loud enough to drown out any sounds from around me. Still, through my music came an odd sound from nearby. I paused my music and listened. It was a violin. I sat with my headphones still on but listening. Someone was playing their violin in a seat a few rows behind me.
I could have turned my music back up and zoned out again, but I didn’t. This person was actually really good, and so I took my headphones off. Slowly, I turned my head so I could see who was playing. To my surprise, it was a really cute girl two rows back.
She noticed me watching and stopped playing. Almost instinctively, she apologized and asked if she was bothering me. I told her no and that I had paused my music so I could listen to her play. She smiled, and I felt like I could melt into my seat. This had caught me off guard.
This girl, we’ll call her J, had brown wavy hair and eyes that nearly disappeared when she smiled. She wore a flowy spring dress, which when put together with her smile and her violin, made me think she was right out of a storybook. I never turned back around. We continued to chat, talking about what brought us to the Vineyard. When the ferry docked, I didn’t want the chance meeting to end, and it didn’t.
We jumped on a shuttle back to where we had both parked in Falmouth. We sat across from each other on the bus, not in the same seat. But on a bus where there was mostly silence among the other passengers, J and I chatted like we had known each other for years.
J was a personal trainer like I was. Believe me, I could tell when looking at her. As we got to know each other, I felt repeatedly like I was in a movie. I had gone to the Vineyard for a race and ended up sitting across from this beautiful, talented girl who was actually interested in talking to me. When the bus arrived at the parking lot, the story could have ended, but again it didn’t.
I don’t remember who asked who, but somehow it came out that J’s family had a summer home near Sandy Neck Beach in West Barnstable, although they lived primarily up near Boston. Sandy Neck was a little over twenty minutes away from me.
J told me that she was driving back to Boston but would be back relatively soon. She invited me over to hang out around their fire pit, meet the family, and just have a good time when she returned. I accepted the invite and tried hard not to seem too eager.
We parted ways by exchanging business cards, not phone numbers. I had totally forgotten about my race, you know, the reason I was over on the Vineyard? It was not lost on me that this meeting on the ferry seemed like destiny. Yet, in the back of my mind, something was holding me back.
By this point, it had been six months since I was crushed by someone I loved and trusted. My heart and mind were barely put together with tape. It was like I felt the possibility of this chance meeting, but I also felt cold and dead inside. Still, I was intrigued by what might lie ahead.
I had time to think before reaching out via email to J. By this point, we had begun following each other on Instagram, so I mentioned a few of her posts to show my interest. I told her I’d love to support her in her Women Running Wild 5K race later in June. I also finally gave her my number.
She got back to me a few days later, and after one email, which I went back and found, we began texting. It was while texting that I got the official invite to the fire pit near Sandy Neck. It was like a continuation of the movie I was living on the ferry and the bus.
On the day I was to meet everyone, J gave me the address and headed over to her family’s house right before sunset. It was no coincidence that there was a fire pit going as I was thrown right into the fire, meeting her parents and sister. There were also their next-door neighbors over for a visit. Being an introvert, when thrust into a room with strangers, I sat back and let conversations come to me.
J tried her best to make me feel at ease. Everyone there was so warm and inviting. The problem was me. I had my confidence shattered by my ex, so I didn’t know how close to get to this new girl. I didn’t know if I should play it cool or if I should let her know of my interest. I was calm on the outside but a mess on the inside.
We all sat around the fire pit. I chatted a lot with the husband of the family next door. He had an interesting story and a barbecue food truck that sounded like it would make for a fun story to write. But I wasn’t there to make business contacts, I was there to spend time with J.
I looked at her in the orange glow of the fire. She looked like someone who could be an important part of my life, yet twelve hours earlier, she was a stranger. I wanted to get her alone and talk more one-on-one, but I didn’t. Maybe I was afraid of a ‘no,’ but I think in my fragile mindset, I was more afraid of a ‘yes’ and not being able to live up to expectations.
J made the move by saying she was headed to bed. Oh, believe me, I wanted to ask if she wanted some company, but come on, her parents were there. All I could do was say good night and watch her walk off into the house. I felt deflated.
Had I blown it? Surely J had some level of interest in me, right? She didn’t have to invite me to her family’s house. She could have said ‘nice to meet you’ and gone on her way off the ferry, but she didn’t. The story could have ended right there, but there was one more chapter.
We texted off and on during the next three weeks leading up to her race. By this point, I had written the article about her neighbor and his barbecue food truck. She didn’t know about my writing career until she just happened to see the article I had written in Cape Cod Life magazine that was on her kitchen table.
I downplayed it a bit. I could have rambled about my writing and probably should have, but again, my confidence was in the gutter, so I didn’t feel I had anything worth offering. No matter my interest inwardly, my broken self gave off ‘friend’ vibes outwardly.
We did a location share with our phones, and I met J at a park in Osterville before the Women Running Wild 5K race. I was there to be her cheerleader, which I found very surreal. I had consistently been a cheerleader for my ex, so it was weird being at a race supporting a different girl.
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| The starting line of the Women Running Wild 5K |
The race was fine. I watched as the runners started and then waited for J to finish. I took a few photos, ironically, the one I snapped of her moments after she finished, I can’t find anywhere. That’s probably a sign.
During the aftermath of the race, I was on the periphery. J had a few people there, and I was just part of the crowd. I think part of me knew that I had already blown it, and I was feeling the defeat. I wished I could do and say more, but it was like my heart was trapped inside a cage.
When J left with her friends, there were no concrete plans for any future meetups. The texts became fewer and fewer. I didn’t push it because I didn’t feel the urgency to. As I've said repeatedly, my confidence was so low that I was afraid to put myself out there. So instead, it was like I watched J like a ship vanish into the horizon.
That is the story of my true meet-cute. If J and I had started a relationship, this story would have been much more impactful. Seriously, I went to the Vineyard to run a race and ended up by chance meeting this beautiful girl. There were so many moments that needed to happen to even get to that point of sitting around the fire pit with her family.
I had to take a later ferry. I had to choose that particular seat. I had to hear the violin over my music. I had to turn to see where the violin was coming from. I had to actually engage her in conversation. We had to park in the same lot.
Overall, I do wish I had done more to try to see where things could have gone with J. Maybe it would have been a no, and we would have moved on. In my mind, after my bad breakup, I just assumed it would be a no and didn’t bother trying. Who knows what I missed because of that?
In the end, J met someone, got married, had kids, and is very happy. So that part makes me happy as well. She was, and I’m sure still is, a really cool, sweet, and talented person. Her husband is very lucky. Then again, I was lucky to get what little face time I had with J. I’m glad to have had the meet-cute with her, even if it was the wrong time for me in my life.
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