The relationship doctor

There's something about my face I think. I'm sixty—three, a touch introverted , not at all given to small talk and yet at every opportunity perfect strangers reveal to me their most intimate thoughts and hopes.
Returning from Los Angeles last month, I sat next to a charming young man from England (not too many details will be given to you because, well ,it's his story). It appeared he was the well—to—do scion of a man who had three wives. The boy loved his father dearly, but with the same passion disliked his mother . He had made a lot of money himself ("trading", he said at first, but later made clear it was gambling) and had decided to take time off and travel.

It seems he was smitten with a girl in California who a year earlier had broken a date with a pre—existing boyfriend to be with him. This year while visiting there he'd run into her again. This time she was to attend an event with her (now ex) boyfriend, a formal event, which she backed out of to be with my seatmate. They'd had a wonderful time but he  was now headed to Buenos Aires, and from there to Australia. He wanted very much for her to join him in Argentina and was willing to pay her way. He wanted advice.

"Tango lessons," I said.

"Tango?" he asked.

"Yes. I'll tell you where to stay and what to see, but even the best restaurant or sight there is not much different than what either of you are used to. "Argentina is tango, and to get the real feel of it, you must learn how to tango and dance in the clubs of Argentina. Your concierge can arrange them easily for you.

We talked a lot about his love, his hopes and other things before the flight ended and he asked for my phone number, promising to let me know how it went.

I heard no further and thought perhaps she'd rejected his offer or that my advice had been bad.  I thought of him again when I read of the horrible tango club fire in Buenos Aires. Then, suddenly yesterday  I received an overseas phone call from him.

"Do you remember me? he asked." I assured him I did. He said he was sorry not to get back to me earlier, that he'd been in Australia and had just returned home. She'd taken up his offer, they learned to dance together and had frequented the clubs where they were complimented on their dancing. They had had a wonderful time. Now, he was planning a return to Los Angeles and he discussed with me his plans. I recommended the most romantic dining spot in Malibu and a side trip to Santa Barbara spa.. He gave me his cell phone number, and promised if this works out and he has a daughter, he'll give her my name.

"Get the Sally Potter DVD "The Tango Lesson" before you see her again, I suggested.  And keep in touch. I now have a vested interest in this relationship," I reminded him.

There's something about my face I think. I'm sixty—three, a touch introverted , not at all given to small talk and yet at every opportunity perfect strangers reveal to me their most intimate thoughts and hopes.
Returning from Los Angeles last month, I sat next to a charming young man from England (not too many details will be given to you because, well ,it's his story). It appeared he was the well—to—do scion of a man who had three wives. The boy loved his father dearly, but with the same passion disliked his mother . He had made a lot of money himself ("trading", he said at first, but later made clear it was gambling) and had decided to take time off and travel.

It seems he was smitten with a girl in California who a year earlier had broken a date with a pre—existing boyfriend to be with him. This year while visiting there he'd run into her again. This time she was to attend an event with her (now ex) boyfriend, a formal event, which she backed out of to be with my seatmate. They'd had a wonderful time but he  was now headed to Buenos Aires, and from there to Australia. He wanted very much for her to join him in Argentina and was willing to pay her way. He wanted advice.

"Tango lessons," I said.

"Tango?" he asked.

"Yes. I'll tell you where to stay and what to see, but even the best restaurant or sight there is not much different than what either of you are used to. "Argentina is tango, and to get the real feel of it, you must learn how to tango and dance in the clubs of Argentina. Your concierge can arrange them easily for you.

We talked a lot about his love, his hopes and other things before the flight ended and he asked for my phone number, promising to let me know how it went.

I heard no further and thought perhaps she'd rejected his offer or that my advice had been bad.  I thought of him again when I read of the horrible tango club fire in Buenos Aires. Then, suddenly yesterday  I received an overseas phone call from him.

"Do you remember me? he asked." I assured him I did. He said he was sorry not to get back to me earlier, that he'd been in Australia and had just returned home. She'd taken up his offer, they learned to dance together and had frequented the clubs where they were complimented on their dancing. They had had a wonderful time. Now, he was planning a return to Los Angeles and he discussed with me his plans. I recommended the most romantic dining spot in Malibu and a side trip to Santa Barbara spa.. He gave me his cell phone number, and promised if this works out and he has a daughter, he'll give her my name.

"Get the Sally Potter DVD "The Tango Lesson" before you see her again, I suggested.  And keep in touch. I now have a vested interest in this relationship," I reminded him.