Andrew is the reason I started blogging.
He is seriously weird. He is Scottish, and plays soccer, chess and saxophone. I met him one night at his gig. It was a strange night.
A photographer friend who was shooting the band that night invited me to the gig. I ran into my big German friend there, who was there with a young ambitious American headhunter. I think his name was Tim, who told me later that I could make any man do anything for me. Yeah right, I wish!
Andrew was trying to take pics of me all night, and finally cornered me successfully when I was talking to the photographer. He gave us his business cards after taking a pic of us.
Later I found out he is safely married with a son, and has quite a respectable job, not exactly a dirty middle-aged man playing in a band and chasing young girls as I thought at first.
So we became friends on Facebook. But we didn’t meet again until about 2 months ago, when he suddenly wrote to me and asked if I still remembered him. Of course I did.
So we had lunch and talked. Now, I must say that not many people can make me talk. But somehow he did. He has this childlike stubbornness to find out everything about anything he finds interesting. He is shy and reserved, but only on the surface.
He insisted on knowing my story, including all the gory detail. I tried to spare him the whole saga, but he wouldn’t give up. So I had to tell him everything, including my suicide attempt after I found out the extent of my ex-husband’s betrayal. Then Andrew went quiet for a few minutes.
I didn’t know why until later I saw the tears in his eyes. He then told me he admired the way I picked up the pieces and moved on. And he said I should write my story.
Many of my friends had told me just that before, but it was Andrew who finally convinced me that I had something worth sharing.
After lunch, he gave me a tour of his office. I found many books on their bookshelves, including the latest Grisham, which he kindly lent to me, after a thorough inspection to ensure there was no embarrassing piece of paper in the book.
I told Andrew that I like Grisham, who I happen to think much better than Jeffery Archer. Then he proudly informed me that he had made his acquaintance with Mr. Archer back in the UK. So I had to ask if he met Mr. Archer before or after he went to jail.
Well, I just couldn’t resist!