The following short story was based on an SMS exchange before social media and WhatsApp
Karin couldn't wait to get home.
"Or rather," she corrected herself, "to go get my nails done."
I laughed.
"Okay. Before you disappear into a world of nail polish and beauty appointments, do you have time to hear a story?"
"Yes."
What followed was not really a story. It was a confession.
"Years ago, when I was working for Gijima, I met this woman."I paused."Pretty. Intelligent. The dangerous combination."Karin laughed.The woman was named Belinda. She worked at the Polytechnic, involved in entrepreneurship and development projects. I knew nothing about her family or background then. All I knew was that she had a quick mind and a smile that seemed to arrive a moment before the rest of her.The first time we spoke, I probably came across as arrogant. The sort of comment I thought was clever but that she probably filed under: What an arse.A few weeks later, we found ourselves at the same lecture.The Rector happened to mention my name while discussing a technology study. Then someone from the audience asked a question about cheese-making in Namibia.Now, what are the odds?The cheese was being made on our family farm at Okomitundu.That should have been a meaningless coincidence.Instead, somewhere between the lecture and the drive home, I realised I was in trouble.Proper trouble.The kind where a man starts planning conversations months before they happen.I got her business card. Connected professionally. Sent entrepreneurship articles.Nothing.No replies.No encouragement.No sign whatsoever that Cupid was helping me.So naturally, I organised a "work trip" to the farm.Officially, a German business partner and I were discussing Polytechnic-related projects.Officially.Karin's response arrived instantly."...""Yes, yes, I know," I typed back. "Work."The day before the flight, disaster struck.Belinda called and said she couldn't make it because her sister was visiting.My heart collapsed.Then I made my move."Bring the sister."No.Saturday only."Fine," I said.At that stage she could have brought her sister, her dog, and a small army of disapproving relatives.Saturday arrived.My German partner spent the morning informing me that no woman in her right mind would drive all the way to a farm for what was clearly not a business meeting.Then she arrived.Late.Of course late.But breathtaking.We climbed into a six-seater Cessna and took off.I put her in the co-pilot's seat.For twenty glorious minutes, she flew over Otjimbingwe and followed the curves of the Swakop River.I was convinced I was creating the greatest first date in human history.The problem, of course, was that her sister was sitting directly behind us.Chaperoning.I tried to be subtle."Does Belinda have a boyfriend?" I asked her sister."No."Excellent.Things were looking up.When we landed, I couldn't resist."Let's see someone beat that for a first date."She smiled."No one can."I didn't hear another word all afternoon because my brain had already started designing wedding invitations.That evening we worked side by side on a project proposal she needed to submit on Monday.Actual work.Laptops.Spreadsheets.Planning schedules.The romantic atmosphere of two accountants auditing a storeroom.Later we did a game drive.Then a sundowner high on the mountain overlooking the farm.Then more conversation.Then more work.I was certain destiny was unfolding exactly as planned.On Sunday we drove back to Windhoek.She sat behind me in the vehicle.Knitting.Actually knitting.Every few minutes she'd ask another question about my life while calmly working wool through needles.I remember thinking: This is what my grandmother would have ordered.We spent another few hours working on her project.Then Monday arrived.I was floating.By Tuesday I was at the florist.I ordered two yellow roses.By Wednesday I ordered two red roses and attached a handwritten note.The note said:"I once again hear the birds sing, and the children shout. I once again feel alive and know the world is well. I have just found out I am in love with you."Karin interrupted."Oh my word. You had it bad."I had it very bad.I spent entire days composing poetry in my head.I sent messages that probably made Shakespeare look emotionally restrained.One line read:"If I could reach up and hold a star for every time you've made me smile, the entire evening sky would be in the palm of my hand."There are moments in life when confidence and delusion become difficult to distinguish.A day later, reality arrived.It arrived in the form of an email.A kind email.A thoughtful email.A devastating email.She thanked me for the flowers.She appreciated my honesty.She admired me professionally.She believed we could be good friends.And she had a boyfriend.The words sat on the screen like headstones.For two days I barely got out of bed.The greatest love story of my life had lasted approximately one farm weekend and six roses."Sorry," Karin wrote.Then, after a pause:"And then what?"I smiled at the memory."Then nothing."No dramatic ending.No last-minute change of heart.No movie soundtrack.Just life."But here's the strange thing," I wrote."I wasn't unhappy."She didn't understand.Neither had I at first.The truth was that for years I had wondered whether I would ever feel that way again.Whether I would ever experience that ridiculous excitement.The sleepless nights.The foolish optimism.The certainty that every coincidence meant something.I lost the girl.But I discovered something else.My heart still worked.I could still fall in love.And somehow that made the heartbreak worthwhile.Several minutes passed before Karin replied.Finally her message appeared."I really thought I'd never feel like this again after Neville."I nodded to myself."Exactly."Then I typed one final sentence before logging off."Try again. Get back on the horse. We love again."And with that, I was gone.