Mrs. Martin and Mr. Blohm - Episode Ten: Success is following your calling - the journey itself is the goal

Gerhard and Regina arrived at the restaurant Gallo Nero. Though it was late, the place was still buzzing. Warm light filled the room, with cozy tables tucked into corners. The owner, Angelo Cipolla, greeted Gerhard Meir with a big hug and a big Ciao Amigo.
“Gerhard!” he exclaimed.

Gerhard introduced Regina. “This is Regina, Paul S.’s girlfriend. You know, Paul—the legendary boulevard journalist from Bunte.”

Angelo raised his eyebrows. “Of course, I know Paul! What an honor to meet you, Regina, Paul’s girlfriend.”

Regina thought quietly: Who doesn’t know Paul?

Gerhard explained further. “Regina just moved from Munich to Hamburg. She’s staying in my studio until she and Paul find something bigger. She came here because of her job—she represents La Perla, the most exclusive lingerie brand from Bologna, as you know.”

Angelo’s eyes lit up. “La Perla? My wife loves it—and of course, I do too.” With a playful smile: “Which man doesn’t like to see his wife in La Perla lingerie?” He looked directly into Regina’s blue eyes. “Regina, it seems you made the right decision. Hamburg may be different from Munich, but to me it is more sophisticated,” he said in his cute Italian accent. “And look at you—your name means the Queen, you work for Italy’s most exclusive lingerie brand, and you’re with Paul and Mr. Meir is your friend now!  Truly, you’ve nailed it. Tonight, you’ll have the best table. And please, come back soon with Paul.”

Regina smiled politely but wondered: Where is the best table if the whole place is packed? Still, she found Angelo charming in that typical Italian way. Italians always knew how to make people feel welcome. It reminded her of her old dream—marrying an Italian man with brown hair, tanned skin, and that irresistible accent. Where had that dream gone? She’d been too busy chasing an affordable Alster condo, navigating her supposed engagement, and handling her new job challenges.

Truth at the Table

In the same moment, her thoughts hardened: Enough. I need to tell Gerhard the truth. He must know I am not Paul’s girlfriend anymore.

Angelo guided them to a hidden corner table with the best view of the restaurant. Gerhard beamed. “My favorite table!” Angelo opened a bottle of red wine and poured generously.

As Gerhard reached for the menu, Regina touched his hand firmly. Startled, he looked at her, his face saying, I hope she knows I’m gay. Regina held his hand tighter, forcing his attention. Before she could rethink her words, they spilled out:

“Gerhard, I broke up with Paul. I’m not his girlfriend anymore. If you only offered me the studio because of him, I can’t accept it—even if I haven’t seen it yet, even if it’s on the Alster for such a low rent. I don’t care!”

She surprised even herself with her blunt honesty.

Gerhard responded without hesitation: “Darling, nothing is set in stone. Thank you for your honesty. My offer stands, with or without Paul. And now, after meeting you, I see why Paul loves you so much—not only because you are so beautiful, but also because you’re sincere, and that is rare to find. And even better, if you become my subtenant, people might think I’m not gay anymore!” He burst into his unmistakable laugh.

Regina didn’t feel like laughing, but she appreciated his kind of humor—and even more, his generosity.

She answered seriously: “Gerhard, just to be clear: I’m single. My name is Regina Martin, and I’d be honored to become your subtenant.”

Gerhard lifted his glass. “Then let’s toast to Brotherhood.”

They clinked glasses. In German, Brüderschaft means setting aside formality—two people toast, switch to first names, and treat each other as equals.

Gerhard lit a cigarette and offered Regina one. As she inhaled, relief washed over her. The cloud of unspoken tension had finally lifted. What a feeling.

Angelo returned to take their order. Both chose liver with mashed potatoes, glazed apples, and roasted onions.

“See?” Gerhard laughed. “Same dish, same taste—almost the perfect couple! And now a smoker community too.” He took another sip of the red wine. “So, when did you break up with Paul?”

“Last Friday,” Regina answered quietly.

Gerhard looked mischievous. “So fresh! Only last Friday.” He downed his wine and poured another.

Regina leaned closer. “Gerhard, I haven’t even told Paul yet.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Then who knows? Maybe you’ll get back together. I know Paul loves you.”

“But I don’t love Paul,” Regina replied firmly.

Gerhard looked surprised. “Sweetie, you never know. Why did you break up with him?”

Regina told him everything: how Paul had encouraged her move from Munich to Hamburg as if it meant nothing, how he always placed work and important VIPs and friends before her, the silent engagement that never was, and finally, the snow globe instead of a ring. For once, Gerhard didn’t interrupt—he just listened.

By the time she finished her story, their plates were empty, and another pair of cigarettes was burning between them.

Gerhard nodded. “Regina, it makes sense what you are telling me, but I am pretty sure Paul has his own story about this relationship—though it’s not my business. More important: when can you pick up the key? Tomorrow, you can sign the contract. I stand by my word: the studio, including the garage, for 870 euros.”

Relief spread through her. She hadn’t seen the studio yet, but she trusted Gerhard’s taste after seeing his condo. She agreed to stop by his salon the next day.

Midnight Reflections

As the last guests in the restaurant, they finally left past midnight with the taxi. The January night was icy but calm. Outside Rondeel 31, Gerhard pointed to a side door next to the white main entrance. “There—that’s your entrance.” He stumbled toward his apartment while Regina drove back to her boarding house at the Hamburg harbour—only 15 minutes—her mind racing with so many thoughts. What if he changes his mind tomorrow? What if the studio is awful? Or he only takes her in when she is still Paul’s girlfriend? And when does she want to let Paul know that she broke up with him? She hadn’t even spoken to Paul since that weekend when she decided not to spend the weekend with him but instead with her friend Elena in Kitzbühel in Austria, where she was clear she didn’t have any future anymore with Paul.

When she arrived at 1 a.m., she saw six missed calls and two voicemails from Paul. His voice was angry, demanding to know why she hadn’t called. Tears welled as she dialed his number. No answer—no wonder, it was 1 a.m.—but inside, she felt: if he is really waiting for her call, why does he not have his phone on loud not to miss her call? But this was typical Paul: he is first; his sleep—nothing matters more than himself. She left a voicemail:

“Paul, it’s Regina. I’m sorry for not calling earlier. I needed time for myself. I don’t want to be with you anymore. Our relationship will never change. I want something different, and you’ve known this for years, and I know it will never be different. I know we had interesting years together, and I know I love you on one hand, and I also know you love me on one hand, but it will not be the Pretty Woman love—being 100% committed to start a new life—and that is why I have to move on. Thank you for connecting me with Gerhard. I told him we’re no longer together, but he still offered me the studio. I’ll arrange to pick up my things in the coming weeks from your condo. I hope you understand.”

She hung up, exhausted and sad, and fell asleep.

The Key That Wouldn’t Turn

Next morning the sun was shining. During her lunchtime, she drove to Gerhard’s salon to sign the contract and get the key to the studio. She was nervous—what if her thoughts last night were right and Gerhard would pull back his offer? Regina arrived at the salon just three minutes from her La Perla showroom at Mittelweg 162 on the first floor: a big salon, and the high society was in his salon; every seat was taken, and the noises of the blowers were everywhere. Gerhard was busy with one of his customers and gesticulated wildly from the back. An assistant came to Regina and said, “You must be Regina. Gerhard already told me about you, and I have prepared the contract. Please sign here, and here is the key.”

She glanced over it—870 euros, garage included, three months maximum, which she didn’t know about. She didn’t mind, and she would see how she would feel in the studio; there would hopefully still be something negotiable when it came to the timeline. She signed the contract and got the key, without hesitation.

Gerhard, who was so busy that he hardly said hello, only called out: “See you tonight, darling, at home—my new girlfriend who is living with me now!” with his typical mischievous smile. All the women in the salon heard it and looked at Regina strangely, as if asking themselves, Who is this woman who will convert Gerhard? Regina smiled back and said, “Yes, see you then, Gerhard.”

Regina immediately headed to Rondeel 31 to finally see the studio she had not seen last night and had just signed a contract for. She arrived at Rondeel 31 and parked in the only parking lot for the whole building. She went to the side entrance next to the main white door and tried to open the door, but the key was not working. She tried again and again. She called Gerhard, but he didn’t answer; then she called the salon and asked for Gerhard, but the assistant said he was busy. She mentioned to the assistant that she should let Gerhard know the key was not working. The assistant confirmed that she would let Mr. Meir know about the message.

Regina was disappointed and couldn’t believe that the key was not working—only two days left to move out of the boarding house and she still hadn’t seen the studio. She drove back to the showroom and completed her customer appointments, but couldn’t stop thinking about her studio. Why was this happening—that the key was not working? What kind of sign was that? It was not a good one!

Regina watched her phone and saw calls from Paul, but not one call from Gerhard. The sunny Wednesday, the last Wednesday in January, which had started so well, ended with so many quesitions. If she didn’t have the right key, she would not be able to move in by Friday at the latest—which was the deadline.

The next morning Gerhard’s assistant called and said she was making a new key. It seemed like the key she had was an old one and didn’t fit anymore, and she could pick up the key on Friday morning. Regina answered, a little puzzled, that if the key could be ready by today that would be better. The assistant replied that no, that was not possible because the key was a security key. “Gerhard will be home after 6 p.m. Friday, and you can pick up the key directly.”

On the 29th of January, the Friday—the last day in the boarding house—Regina packed her belongings in the boarding house and said goodbye to three months of boarding-house living in Hamburg, and toasted already in the morning with a glass of her favorite Prosecco. She closed the door behind her with full optimism that the key handover would work out this time, because this time there was no way back into the boarding house.

Her heart was pumping. Would Gerhard be at home as announced?

By evening, she stood again at Rondeel 31. This time she only needed 10 minutes because she had found her way around. Gerhard opened the white door himself, looking just as eccentric as ever—hair tousled, a white V-neck shirt with his black pants, and black glasses magnifying his eyes. He hugged her. “Welcome home, darling!” And this time, the key worked. Together they walked around to the garden, and Gerhard opened the studio.

In that moment Regina’s phone rang; it was Paul again. Gerhard saw the name on the display and smiled at her. Regina said nothing.

A Bed, a Bottle, and a Future

Both were walking on the side way to the front of the house to the Alster. When they went around the corner, Regina saw the magnificent lake view and the back garden, and there was the white bay with another door. Gerhard took another key to open the main door to the studio, and there Regina stepped into her studio. The bright, big floor to ceiling window made the studio so special. The studio was huge, with a modern kitchen island and one door to the clean bathroom.

The moment Regina stepped inside, she knew this was her home. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the Alster, a terrace with a table and chairs waited outside, terracotta tiles warmed the floor. The studio was simple, furnished only with a huge bed in the middle—

Gerhard apologized that it was so poorly furnished, and he added, “What else do you need when you have love—only a bed, right?” He smiled at her. Regina thought in that moment, I don’t have love, but she felt she had arrived with herself. Although being alone, she was happy that she could loosen herself from her past. Hamburg had no past—only present and future—for Regina. Everything was so clear and without any burden. All the people she met were not connected to Paul, besides Gerhard—but only a little bit.

There was one thing that was crystal clear for Regina: she would not move out of that studio in three months! Not one of Gerhard’s hairdressers would ever be in her studio from now on. Gerhard kissed her on both cheeks and said, “I have to leave; I have a date! Make yourself comfortable.”

She had finally made it; she pulled her two suitcases into the studio. After months of searching, heartbreak, and struggle, she stood inside her dream Alster home.

That night she opened again a bottle of her favorite Prosecco, lifted her glass, and whispered: Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

And with that, she knew—if she could make this dream happen, she could make the others happen too. One day, she would marry an Italian and live in Miami.

She fell asleep in the big bed with the magnificent view of the lake. Next morning she woke up and had to decide to make the arrangements with the moving company to get her belongings out from Munich, to make the studio more feminine, and so that the bed would not be the dominator in this large studio—without a boyfriend.

For now, she had arrived.

Meanwhile, Mr. Blohm was handling, for him, a not-serious relationship, where this woman had already moved into his Rondeel 31 condo and was already seeing the church bells ringing.