Summer Dreams Ripped at the Seams

Last night I met someone who works with the Married Guy. And his company employs about six people.

Did I ever tell you about the Married Guy? I bet I didn't, though I still think about him every day. Nothing much happened beyond the exchange of literally a thousand dizzying, dazzling, and at times, hilarious, emails (I received about 460, and sent slightly fewer) over the summer. But he unfortunately was proof that a certain type of man really does exist – and yes, is always taken.

I have not spoken to him for several weeks, and it's unlikely I ever will again unless our worlds collide. Which I guess, given that we seem to share the same brain, is entirely possible. I also noted on Facebook that his wife and I have a friend in common, though not a close on my part. Friend is a rather charming, attractive, clever, flirty, successful journalist – with a personality, come to think of it, that is not unlike the Married Guy's. (He's not as literary, though.) What is it about these Princeton types?

It would not be hyperbole to say this relationship, such as it was, changed my life – though anyone you have any kind of meaningful interaction with does, don't they? It's like a pinball that pauses on the brink of one chute and then goes a centimeter off and veers down another. He affected – and affects – the way I think about so many things.

And there this woman was, telling me she works at his company. I said I knew their product, and she asked me if I knew someone there. I said I did; I've never been good at hiding things.

She gushed about him. I wasn't surprised. She finished her tribute with something like "...isn't he?"

It was at that moment I felt on the cusp of great power. Just a couple of seconds and I could alter the course of his life, and possibly my own, in a way – like a bullet – that cannot be undone. I didn't delight in the power, but instead was somewhat terrified by it. Occasionally I thought about this in my days at the magazine in London, but that was so over-lawyered and usually so harmless there honestly wasn't much to think about. But the moment with this woman made me wonder how often I have thrown the power of words and someone's confidence into the wind, and made me suddenly cautious and newly keen to avoid gossip in the future.

Then I realized she still was waiting for me to answer.

I smiled and nodded and finally said: "He's one of a kind."