Mrs Martin and Mr Blohm Episode 36: If you are an outsider, you don’t take the school path.

So, Regina got into a taxi—something she hadn’t done in years, since she usually always drove her own car to events when she was still living in Munich. But even after living in Hamburg for nine months, she still did not feel truly familiar with the city. So, she took a taxi at 6:45 PM to make sure she would arrive exactly on time for the 7:00 PM opening of this former bank, now transformed into a restaurant.

Unfortunately, her landlord, Gerhard M., who had originally invited her, had canceled at the very last minute and decided not to come, which meant she now had to attend the event alone. For one brief second, she had considered asking Mr. Blohm if they should go there together, since she knew he also had an invitation—but she immediately dismissed the thought.

During the past nine months of knowing Mr. Blohm as her neighbor, Regina had already made up her mind: he was not her future. He was not her type, not her style, and not aligned with the life she envisioned for herself. Absolutely not the man she saw next to her in the long run.

So, she gathered all her courage and decided to go alone, secretly hoping that maybe, just maybe, this event of the year might bring her a new opportunity—or even the love of her life. Her motto had always been: never lose hope.

The Outsider

Still, it gave her an uneasy feeling, because she was alone and didn’t know anyone there in Hamburg, something she simply wasn’t used to.

She arrived exactly at 7 PM, right when the whole event was starting, perfectly on time. From the outside, it already looked like such a traditional, typical old building, where you could immediately tell it had once truly been a real bank. It had that powerful statement from the exterior.

It was November 2nd, 2005—the days were beginning to feel like winter was arriving, but that particular night was still surprisingly mild. And so she walked inside, wearing her black La Perla coat—a statement in itself. Her name was indeed on the list, and somehow, she felt proud of that.

The organizers of the event had done everything beautifully—there were elegant candelabras everywhere, casting a warm and inviting light, and a beautiful red carpet leading inside. The crowd was already quite large, but it was a carefully chosen, sophisticated crowd. You could see it immediately in the way people dressed, carried themselves, and moved through the room.

Then there was the vault—what had once been the original bank vault had now been transformed into the cloakroom. Regina handed over her black La Perla coat there, which in itself was already a statement.

She felt very comfortable in her outfit: a white blouse, a black La Perla corsage, fitted black trousers, and her elegant black patent leather boots. She had dressed with intention—classic, feminine, and confident.

She walked up the eight steps leading to the new restaurant upstairs, and the entire transformation of the former bank into this powerful, stylish location was incredibly impressive. Right away, champagne was being served, and Regina took a glass.

Between Munich and Hamburg

Even though she had made a few contacts through her work at La Perla and through the Tennis Club an der Alster, where she was a guest member, in the end, it came down to the simple fact that she didn’t really know anyone in Hamburg. It would have been completely different in Munich, where she had lived for more than fifteen years. There, she would have known half the room. Here, she had to blend into the crowd as best as she could.

She took her first sip of champagne, and after that very first sip, she already knew: this would not be her drink for the evening. The champagne scratched her throat and felt heavy. After asking if they had any sparkling wine or Prosecco, she discovered they didn’t even offer Prosecco—only this far too sharp, heavy champagne. Regina immediately decided to switch to water instead. She didn’t drink cocktails anyway or hard liquor—they always felt too heavy for her.

Putting aside the disappointment of the bubbles, she tried to get into conversations with people. They asked her, “Oh, are you new here?” She smiled and said, “Yes, I’m from Munich,” and immediately the usual discussion began—which city is better, Hamburg or Munich?

It was always the same: north versus south. Probably every country had its own version of that debate.

It reminded her of Mr. Blohm, and somehow she was already tired of that conversation, because in her mind, she already knew the answer—Munich was simply better than Hamburg.

And somehow, people immediately asked what had brought her to Hamburg and what she did for work. Of course, La Perla came up. Back in 2005, La Perla was still a highly prestigious name.

People reacted instantly: “Oh, La Perla! How wonderful! We love this lingerie—made in Italy!”

Especially the women were impressed. In those days, La Perla represented elegance, luxury, and a certain almost unreachable glamour in lingerie. People admired the brand, not realizing it had taken more than eighty years to build that reputation.

Of course, Regina also had many conversations about the delivery difficulties regarding quality and shipping, which by then had already reached the end consumers. She did her best to defend the brand—a company so unique and exceptional in the world of luxury lingerie, a brand that, sadly, no longer exists today in the same way because of the wrong management decisions—trying to save cents by producing in China instead of preserving the craftsmanship of Italy.

And so, somehow, four hours later—by then it was already around 10:30 PM—Regina felt tired. Tired of the endless discussions about Hamburg versus Munich, tired of explaining why La Perla was still the best lingerie, tired of all the social small talk with people she had never met before.

It had all been polite, sophisticated, and still strangely exhausting. The hope of meeting the kind of man like Luis Miguel—that hope had disappeared very quickly, probably within the first hour.

“This kind of man only exists in Miami,” Regina thought.

And on the other side, Mr. Blohm was playing tennis that evening at the Club an der Alster, where Regina had a guest membership. Yet in all those months, she had never once met Mr. Blohm there—neither on the tennis court nor at any of the club’s social tennis events.

Mr. Blohm himself wasn’t a member of the club either, but he was able to play there through a friend on that particular night. Since he didn’t need to be at the event before 10:30 PM, he spent the early evening on the tennis court to fill the time and then got ready for the event afterward.

The club was just around the corner, only about five minutes away from the former bank that had been transformed into the restaurant, so Mr. Blohm chose to take his silver Mercedes and drive straight to the event.

One Familiar Face

So, as planned with Marietta Andreae, the organizer of the bank restaurant event, Mr. Blohm arrived at exactly 10:30 PM. He was immediately waved through, since his name was on the guest list thanks to Marietta, and even though it was already late, the event was still packed.

And Regina, from a distance, looked toward the entrance, because she had already decided that she was about to leave the event and was trying to figure out the best way to make her exit.

And in that very moment, she saw Mr. Blohm just entering.

For her, it felt strangely powerful.

Since Regina wasn’t used to being in a city where she knew almost no one, suddenly seeing a familiar face—even if it was only Mr. Blohm—gave her an unexpected sense of relief.

Regina saw Mr. Blohm immediately and started waving excitedly with both hands from far across the room.

“Hello, Mr. Blohm! Hello, Mr. Blohm!” she called from the other side of the restaurant.

It was obvious, with the loud music and the crowded room, that Mr. Blohm couldn’t possibly hear her. However, everyone around her certainly could. The people standing near Regina could clearly hear her calling a name, and suddenly several heads turned in Mr. Blohm’s direction.

Somehow, Mr. Blohm looked around, noticed these enthusiastic waving arms from a woman across the crowded room, along with all the faces turning in his direction, and thought, Does this woman really mean me? Is that Mrs. Martin?

You have to know—Mr. Blohm was quite nearsighted.

A Stranger City, A Familiar Man

In his mind, it simply couldn’t be Mrs. Martin, because she was usually rather distant, very calm, and reserved. It was hard for him to believe that she could be the same woman now standing there, visibly excited just because she had spotted him.

He asked himself, Who is this woman waving so dramatically with both arms?

Mrs. Martin made her way quickly through the crowd, walking straight toward Mr. Blohm with complete determination.

And when Regina finally stood in front of Mr. Blohm, she reached out her hand and greeted him with real relief in her voice:

“Hello, Mr. Blohm! I’m so happy to see you!”

Mr. Blohm also extended his hand, and the two of them shook hands.

“Good evening, Mrs. Martin—what a wonderful surprise,” Mr. Blohm said. And he looked genuinely surprised to have run into Mrs. Martin—even though, in truth, that had been his only reason for getting an invitation in the first place: to see her again in a different setting, beyond simply being neighbors.

Regina simply felt relieved to finally see a familiar face—something she had always taken for granted in Munich, but something she had deeply missed in Hamburg during her first event. And that was exactly the reason why she lost her composure the moment she saw Mr. Blohm that evening, which was slightly embarrassing for her, but she simply couldn’t hide her joy at seeing someone she knew.

She also wanted to show the other people she had been talking to for hours that she did, in fact, know someone there. She didn’t want to appear as if she knew absolutely no one. With Mr. Blohm’s sudden arrival, that challenge was instantly solved.

Do you want to know how the story continues—and whether Mrs. Martin and Mr. Blohm will finally become a couple after almost nine months since they first met?

Then stay curious right here for Episode 37—and make sure to have plenty of glasses of Mr. and Mrs. SYLTBAR ready at hand 🥂✨