Too obvious

Can you meet someone who is too perfect for you?

Occasionally I come upon a man who proves to be a) both gregarious and polite in conversation; b) a musician; c) lanky and muscular....and oh joy, also a runner; d) at least remotely interested in Christianity; e) the kind of person who goes out to Tealuxe and asks if he can bring me back a cup of coffee, despite only having met me moments before; f) all of those things and in my age range; and g) ostensibly single.

Then something always reveals itself as a caveat.....and in this case the man lives in Ooltewah, Tennessee and rather likes it there.

Nonetheless, a pleasant surprise. It was about 8 on Friday night. I had gone to my church to rehearse on the Steinway for my gig there Sunday morning. Patrick was in the balcony, in t-shirt and jeans (yes, tall and lanky), tools in hand, standing over several dissembled panels of the pipe organ. I yelled out a hello, and he waved:

"Hey there! Elaine told me the piano player was probably going to stop by while I was here so I guess that's you? Hi!"

He was the organ tuner, up from Richards, Fowkes in Chattanooga. Southern drawl. We then talked for over three hours.

It started about five minutes after I arrived, when Patrick asked if I were from the Midwest. (Based on my accent? I've been getting that a lot lately....) Which led to the revelation that he grew up in South Dakota and attended a church college -- Gustavus Adolphus -- near my own and sang in the choir there. Which followed a long discussion into the repudiation of his Wisconsin Synod church upbringing and recent stints as a music director.....all while he was on a 13-foot ladder fine-tuning the cymblestern. And asking me to help pull the stops to make sure it was working properly.

There was no inference of anything forward. But as Patrick and I uncovered mutual interests, mutual acquaintances, favorite Bach pieces and in turn got no work done.....I found myself wondering if he were single. And at the same time wondering if he wondered the same about me. (Partially because, well, obviously I had no better place to be on a Friday night that at church, talking to him.) I thought if, by chance, something came of this conversation it would be too perfect. The organ repairman and the pianist get friendly over the keyboards. It would be a story to tell the kids.

Well, here I am on Monday and it is obvious Patrick and I had a conversation in the church balcony and nothing more. It ended at 11:30 when I handed over my business card and said he should call me up for a drink the next time he came back to Boston. He replied that he would, although he tends to only get up this way once a year. And we shook on it.

Too perfect. Probably most perfect that it didn't have a chance to go bad.