Mrs Martin and Mr Blohm Episode 37: Thoughts? No, thank you—Not now!

So, after Mrs. Martin had made her way through to Mr. Blohm in the restaurant The Bank, and was now standing right in front of him, he was quite surprised by how friendly, open, and genuinely excited she was to see him—something he had never experienced from Mrs. Martin before, as she had always seemed rather distant.

Regina extended her hand, and Mr. Blohm reached out and took it.
For a brief second, he thought to himself: My God… after nine months, one could at least hug to say hello.

Even this formal “Mr. Blohm” and “Mrs. Martin” felt strangely distant after such a long time—especially considering they had met several times before and had even spent evenings together.

Then again, Mr. Blohm reflected, the last time Mrs. Martin had suggested switching to a more familiar “you”—during a dinner with her friend Evelyn at Mr. Blohm’s favorite Italian restaurant—moving from formality to Regina and Claus. After a few months, Regina had felt it was time, especially since her friend Evelyn had immediately addressed Mr. Blohm by his first name, Claus. But he had replied rather dryly,
“I’m not quite there yet, Mrs. Martin.”

It had been meant more as a joke at the time… but Mrs. Martin had taken it as a rejection.

And when Mr. Blohm later made his first attempt to offer the same—during that strange evening when he stood there in nothing but a white bathrobe, barefoot, holding his golf club on a cold, foggy night—Regina refused. By then, she was no longer open to any contact at all with her neighbor, Mr. Blohm.
That was now almost nine months ago.

The Turning Point at The Bank

Well, he thought, at least now she seems happier to see me than ever before. That’s progress… And inwardly, he couldn’t help but smile, not quite understanding why Mrs. Martin was suddenly so delighted to see him.

Not wanting to miss this rare and cheerful version of Mrs. Martin, Mr. Blohm said,
“Oh, it’s nice to see you too, Ms. Martin.”

And Regina replied with a radiant smile,
“Mr. Blohm, I’m so happy that you’re here—wonderful!”

The words seemed to bubble out of her, and even she could hardly believe how happy she was about his presence that evening.

She gave him the biggest smile he had ever seen from her.

Mr. Blohm felt slightly unsettled and didn’t quite know how to handle this new version of Mrs. Martin. He had just arrived and wanted a moment to orient himself, yet he was already caught up in the vibrant energy of the restaurant event. He was curious about the guests and what the long night might bring—but at the same time, he didn’t want to miss this unexpectedly refreshing moment with Mrs. Martin.

One Gin Tonic, One Big Surprise

So, almost instinctively, he said,
“Mrs. Martin, would you like to have a gin and tonic with me—one with cucumber?”

What you have to know, dear readers, is that back in 2005, it had suddenly become the thing to add a slice of cucumber to a gin and tonic. Do you remember?

Regina paused for a brief moment, then smiled and said,
“Oh yes, I will—although I actually never drink gin and tonic or any hard liquor—and the cucumber sounds very refreshing. And the champagne here doesn’t taste good at all… I’ve only had water for the past four hours because they don’t have my favorite Prosecco… so why not, Mr. Blohm—I’ll have a gin and tonic, with this magic cucumber.” 

So, Mr. Blohm ordered a gin and tonic—and the two of them clinked glasses. Mr. Blohm insisted it had to be a very special gin—Hendrick’s at that time (today, we will choose Monkey 47)—and, of course, always with cucumber, a preference he has kept to this day. Regina wasn’t so sure; she hadn’t had a gin and tonic in years, and certainly never with a slice of cucumber—but she liked the idea.

Mr. Blohm and Mrs. Martin stood at the bar, observing the crowd. From time to time, people approached Mr. Blohm to greet him—there were handshakes, a few embraces, and even a couple of women who greeted him with kisses on both cheeks, clearly delighted to see him. He seemed busy acknowledging everyone, moving with ease—yet he never truly left the space where he stood beside Mrs. Martin.

The Miami Temptation

It reminded Regina of Munich, where she had once known so many people, where it had felt so natural to be part of a social circle. But since her move to Hamburg, that had changed. For a brief moment, she wondered if Miami would feel the same—if even after nine months she might still struggle to build real friendships.

But she quickly dismissed the thought. After all, she had already made friends in Miami—without even living there—and had been visiting for more than ten years, even if only twice a year. It was one of the reasons Miami already felt like home to her: the sun, the beautiful ocean, the gently swaying palm trees—and her friends.

So she decided to simply enjoy the moment. In the end, even seeing just one familiar face—even if it was only Mr. Blohm—felt comforting to Regina.

As she watched him from the side, greeting people with ease, she found herself thinking: Actually, Mr. Blohm is not unattractive at all in a social setting. His height, his confidence, his natural charm—always a smile on his face and a light joke on his lips.

But just as quickly, she pushed that thought away.

After about twenty minutes, she took another sip of her gin and tonic, turned slightly toward Mr. Blohm, and whispered in his ear,
“Mr. Blohm, I wish you a lovely evening, but for me it is time to go now—I’ll grab a taxi and head home. I’ve been here since seven, and now it’s already almost 11:30 PM.”

When Timing Isn’t on Your Side

Mr. Blohm was stunned. He could hardly believe what he was hearing.
Is she serious? he thought. This can’t be true. I haven’t seen Mrs. Martin in months—and now she wants to leave already? I did everything just to get an invitation to this event… and now she’s leaving? This can’t be happening.

And besides—he had just arrived himself. He had barely been there thirty minutes. He had been looking forward to discovering more of the event. 

He had also wanted to see Andrea Marietta, the organizer of the event, to thank her for the invitation, and he was eager to introduce her to his neighbor, Mrs. Martin—someone he found genuinely intriguing, regardless of all the past complications. But there was no time for that now, after Mrs. Martin’s surprising decision to leave the party.

But in that moment, he also saw an opportunity.

Without hesitation, he gently offered his arm for her to take and said,
“I’ll drive you home, Mrs. Martin.”

Regina looked at him, completely puzzled.
He had just arrived. The event was still in full swing.

“Absolutely not, Mr. Blohm,” she replied firmly. “You’ve only just arrived—you have to enjoy the evening. Have fun! I’ll take a taxi. Don’t worry, Mr. Blohm, I can take care of myself.”

But Mr. Blohm didn’t let go. He was determined.

No matter what Mrs. Martin said, he insisted,
“I want to drive you home, Mrs. Martin.”

The Drive Into Silence

Before she could fully react, he had already guided her—arm in arm—down the steps of the restaurant The Bank. On their way out, she stopped by the former vault—now transformed into a cloakroom—to pick up her La Perla coat. Mr. Blohm helped her into it; she tied the belt around her waist and lifted the collar slightly, shielding herself from the cool night air.

Together, they continued toward his car, which was parked just one street away.
(Dear reader, back in 2005, valet parking at events wasn’t quite as common as it is today.)

Ever the gentleman, Mr. Blohm opened the passenger door. Regina took her seat. He walked around the car, got in, and drove off—swiftly, almost decisively.

Just as they pulled away, a light drizzle began to fall.

The restaurant was only about ten minutes from their homes at Rondeel 31. During the drive, they barely spoke. Mr. Blohm inserted a CD—this was 2005, after all—and the music filled the car. Regina liked the song very much. Of course, it was Luis Miguel—Mr. Blohm had always been a great fan of this, at the time still somewhat underrated artist in Germany.

When they arrived, Mr. Blohm parked his silver Mercedes directly in Mrs. Martin’s parking space, just behind her black Mercedes with Munich license plates.

He turned off the engine. The lights faded. The music stopped.
Silence.

Only the soft sound of rain tapping against the windshield.

Regina turned toward him and said quietly,
“Mr. Blohm, thank you very much for the ride home. That was very kind of you. But please—go back to the event. I insist. The party is only just beginning.”

She opened the passenger door and stepped out.

In the same moment, Mr. Blohm opened his door and stepped out as well.

They stood there—each on their side of the car—separated only by the quiet presence of the vehicle, the dark and cold night around them, and the soft drizzle in the air.

Do you want to know how it continues? Then stay curious right here—and make sure you have a few glasses of Mr. and Mrs. SYLTBAR—whichever you prefer—ready at hand.

To be continued… 🥂✨Episode 38 will follow next Sunday