Mrs. Martin & Mr. Blohm — Episode Thirteen: In Life, There Are No Roadmaps

Sierichstraße The First Impression 

If somebody had asked Regina at that very moment how Mr. Blohm looked, how old he might be, or anything else about him — she would not have been able to answer even one of those questions.
Mr. Blohm simply wasn’t her type of man.

He was pale, almost bald — and as every reader knows by now, Regina had always dreamed of being with an Italian man with a lot of brown hair. From the very first moment she met him, it was crystal clear: Mr. Blohm was far from her Italian ideal.

And when he mentioned that he had a karaoke machine in his car — explaining that this was why he had used Mrs. Martin’s parking spot, to “hide” it — Regina’s mind was made up. For her, karaoke machines were an absolute no-go. Just that alone was enough reason to put this man out of question entirely.

On the other hand, she couldn’t help but notice the way he looked at her — with quiet admiration. Mr. Blohm clearly found her attractive. Mrs. Martin was exactly his type: naturally beautiful, no makeup, tall, blonde, blue-eyed, and slim.

Of course, Regina quickly forgot this little encounter — even though he was her neighbor. To her, Mr. Blohm was simply the man next door, nothing more.

At that time, Mr. Blohm was 45 years old — born and raised in Hamburg, divorced, and without children. He lived at Rondeel 31, in a condo on the third floor facing the east side, Sierichstraße — not the beautiful Alster view that Regina enjoyed. After his difficult divorce, he was living a rather free and independent single life.

Regina, too, had been born in Hamburg — her mother was from there — but her father came from the south, about an hour outside of Munich. When she was four, her parents moved back to Munich, where she grew up. Hamburg had never really felt connected to her, and with no family left there, Munich was what she called home.

That Saturday, Regina was running late for her first tennis lesson — partly because of her unexpected run-in with Mr. Blohm. She had booked the lesson mostly out of curiosity, to get a closer look at the Tennis Club an der Alster, where she was thinking of becoming a member — even though the club’s strict rules required two sponsors and a rather outrageous admission fee of €15,000.

When Regina arrived, slightly out of breath, the receptionist already knew she had a lesson booked with Ronald Burger, who had called her unexpectedly after getting her La Perla business card from one of his clients — a club member she had met while trying to withdraw cash at the nearby bank.

Ronald, tall with long dark hair and tanned skin, greeted her warmly on the court. After the first few rounds, he started asking questions — when she had moved to Hamburg, what she did in Munich — and it quickly became clear that his interest went beyond tennis.

For Regina, however, the real reason for this lesson was to gather insider information about how to become a member of the club — ideally without paying the full fee. Ronald told her she could apply as an “out-of-town member” if she could prove that she was only temporarily living in Hamburg. That option reduced the fee drastically — to just €750 a year — and no admission fee at all, as long as her company could confirm her temporary status.

That was great news to Regina — the receptionist certainly hadn’t mentioned that and it confirmed what Regina had always believed: never settle for the first answer you’re given.

The idea appealed to her immediately. Even though she loved her new Alster apartment, she didn’t see her long-term future in Hamburg. La Perla was struggling after moving production to China, the weather was endlessly gray, and the northern chill left little room for escape or sunshine. Miami, on the other hand, still shimmered in her dreams.

Two Invitations

Ronald also offered to find her one of the two required sponsors. She would need to provide the second one herself — and immediately, Regina thought of Gerhard. Even though he didn’t play tennis, he knew the right people.

After the lesson, Ronald made it clear — subtly but unmistakably — that he wanted to see her again outside the tennis court. Regina sensed it. Still, out of gratitude for the useful insider information and his offer to help with her membership, she agreed to meet him the following week for a glass of wine.

As they said goodbye, Ronald smiled and told her,
“You’re a good tennis player — you don’t really need lessons.”

Regina laughed. “That wasn’t exactly my goal,” she replied.

He raised an eyebrow. “Then why did you book one?”

She smiled. “To meet people. I’m new in Hamburg.

She didn’t want to admit that she had only booked the lesson to get membership information — she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. But just like with Mr. Blohm earlier that day, she could feel that he was clearly interested in her.

For Regina, that interest simply wasn’t mutual. Even though Ronald came much closer to her “type” than Mr. Blohm, she didn’t feel any spark.

Driving home, Regina had the quiet feeling that — for the first time — she had taken a small step toward arriving in Hamburg.

After the weekend, on Monday morning, she walked to her car.
There, tucked under the windshield wiper, was an envelope.

She pulled out the note and began to read. It was dated February 13, 2005.

February 13, 2005

Dear Mrs. Martin,

It was a pleasure meeting you, and I would be delighted to invite you to my place for a glass of wine on February 17th at 6 p.m.
I hope you’ll have time — please let me know.
You can reach me at 0171 / 58769906.

With kind regards,
Your neighbor,
Claus Blohm

The Handwritten Note

Regina was genuinely touched by the handwritten letter. That had never happened to her in Munich — people there were already texting back then. Mr. Blohm, it seemed, belonged to a more traditional world. And honestly, what could be more charming than receiving a real handwritten note?

She studied his handwriting: large, confident, and flowing — somehow strong and grounded. It made her curious. You can tell a lot about a person from their handwriting, she thought. And the fact that Mr. Blohm had already set a specific date— well, that said something too.

The only issue: on that very same day, she already had a wine date with Ronald Burger, the tennis instructor. But his was at 8 p.m., and Mr. Blohm had suggested 6 p.m. So Regina decided she could make both — why not? She wanted to find out how Mr. Blohm lived and what kind of man he really was. Maybe, she thought, she had been too quick to judge him.

Once she arrived at the showroom, she decided to send Mr. Blohm a text message.
Why not call?
Truthfully — Regina didn’t dare.

Even back in 2005, not only Regina but many others already felt more comfortable texting than calling. Unfortunately, just like today, real conversations were becoming rarer. According to Regina’s theory, people had simply become afraid of direct communication — even relationships were being ended by text, which  is very sad.

Her message read:

Hello Mr. Blohm,
Thank you for your invitation to a glass of wine this Thursday at 6 p.m. in your apartment. I would be happy to accept, but I can only stay until 7 p.m., as I have another appointment afterwards.
Kind regards, Your neighbor
Regina Martin

It took less than a minute before her phone rang — and she saw Mr. Blohm’s number flashing on the screen. Regina had already saved his number in her contacts.
She thought to herself, Oh my… he’s calling right away! (Disclaimer: This was 2005 — people still answered their phones then!)

She took the call.
“Hello, Mrs. Martin,” said Mr. Blohm. “I received your message. But only one hour? That won’t do for me. Let’s postpone it instead.”

Regina blinked. Excuse me?
What kind of man was this “Karaoke Blohm”? Was this just an excuse to pursue something else? Maybe this wasn’t about a simple glass of wine after all. The thought flashed through her mind — perhaps he had something completely different in mind. How convenient: same house, same building, and with her working for La Perla, surrounded by lingerie… it almost sounded like a man’s fantasy.

For Regina, that was unthinkable — as impossible as giving up her favorite Prosecco.

So she decided to test him.
If Mr. Blohm only wanted “fun,” she would find out soon enough.

Calmly, she replied:

“If one hour isn’t enough for you Mr Blohm, I’m afraid it’ll have to wait three weeks. I’ll be in Munich bringing back my furniture and traveling for La Perla.”

She was sure he’d change his mind and agree to the one-hour visit rather than wait three weeks to share a glass of wine with someone who lived in the same building.

But to her surprise, he didn’t hesitate.
“I understand,” he said. “Then let’s schedule something in three weeks.”

Regina was stunned.
No man in Munich would have done that!
There, a man would have said, ‘Let’s talk again in three weeks,’ leaving everything vague — never committing to an exact date.

But Mr. Blohm wanted to set it right now.

The Filofax Moment

Regina opened her Filofax ( Does everyone still remember what a Filofax is?)  — her handwritten calendar, the one she still used because five years earlier, on her 30th birthday, she hadn’t bought herself a Palm digital assistant (this was before the iPhone!) — she had spent that money on her wedding dress instead. That dress was still vacuum-packed in a white box under the bed in Paul’s apartment, where she had just ended their relationship.

Now, as she wrote this private appointment down by hand, she couldn’t help but wonder —
What if I had bought that Palm back then?
Would this little moment, this appointment with Mr. Blohm, have felt any different?

In her Filofax, the entry stood there — handwritten instead of typed into a Palm.
If Mr. Blohm had simply sent her a text message to invite her for a glass of wine, it would never have had the same impact as his handwritten letter — right?

March 17, 6 p.m. – Claus Blohm.

“Wonderful, Mrs. Martin,” he said. “Then I look forward to getting to know you better.”

“Let’s see,” Regina replied briefly. “Goodbye, Mr. Blohm.”

It was strange.
Mr. Blohm was unlike any man she had met before:
a karaoke machine, a handwritten letter, a date that must last longer than one hour, and now — a man willing to wait three whole weeks for it.

And with that, Regina became more curious than ever to find out who Mr. Blohm really was.

Thursday, February 17, 2005

On the Thursday when she was supposed to meet Mr. Blohm, Regina instead met Roland, the tennis instructor — at a small wine bar near the Rondeel (whose name isn’t worth mentioning, and which doesn’t exist anymore).

The meeting didn’t last longer than an hour. Roland quickly realized that Regina had no romantic interest in him, and she made that very clear. Still, she was grateful for his help and asked if he could secure one of the two required sponsors for her tennis club application. She would take care of finding the second one herself.

Regina had the impression that Roland didn’t want to lose face — so he simply smiled and assured her, “You can count on me.”

Regina felt a little sorry for him, having to crush his hopes so quickly, but she was proud of herself for being honest and not giving false signals. She believed that clarity was always better than illusion.

The Rules of Love

That same strategy had already worked with Gerhard Meier, when she had told him the truth — that she and Paul were no longer together, and that she wanted the studio for herself, not because she was Paul’s girlfriend.

Honesty, it seemed, always paid off in the end.

And that’s exactly what she planned to do with Mr. Blohm. From the very first meeting in March, she would make things crystal clear — there would be no chance for anything romantic, not even a one-night stand.

At that time, Regina was reading for the third time a book called “The Rules of Love and Happiness” by Pierre Franckh. She had highlighted all the important passages with a marker. His message was simple: when you meet someone new, you must be honest from the very beginning about what you want — whether it’s just a casual fling, an affair, or a serious relationship leading to marriage and children. If your goals don’t align, you shouldn’t even start.

And for Regina, the alignment would be especially tricky.
She wanted to move to Miami, marry an Italian, and one day have her own company. Those were her dreams — clear and non-negotiable. If the man in front of her didn’t share those goals, there would be no second date.

Pierre Franckh was right, she thought:
We all do it wrong. When we meet someone, we like, we try to show only our sweetest, most polished side — the chocolate side — but that’s not sustainable. Sooner or later, the real self surfaces. Better to be honest from the start.

Regina had decided: the next time she fell in love, it would only be with a man who shared her vision — marriage, children, Italy, Miami. Otherwise, she wouldn’t even start.

The Application

Meanwhile, Regina was busy convincing her boss, Henry Schmidt, to provide a company letter confirming that her position in Hamburg was only temporary.
Henry didn’t fully understand why she needed it, but if it helped her become a member of what he teasingly called “that fancy Alster tennis club,” he was happy to help.

Regina also explained the situation to Gerhard, mentioning that she already had one sponsor through Roland but needed a second. It didn’t take long before Gerhard returned with the application form in hand, smiling proudly.

“Darling,” he said, “that was easy. Almost all my clients are members of the Alster Club.”
Then, with his usual humor, he added, “Thank God I don’t play tennis — imagine having to meet all my customers again in private life! What a nightmare.”

Regina burst out laughing. She adored Gerhard’s sense of humor and was so grateful that her dream of joining the club was finally taking shape.

When she later filled out the entire application, she was surprised by how much personal information they required — her parents’ professions and addresses, her own previous residences over the past five years, the company confirmation letter, and of course, the two sponsors she didn’t even know.
That, she thought, is exactly how she would imagine a Green Card application to be — and anyone who has actually gone through one knows it’s even much more demanding.

She neatly organized all the documents in a Leitz binder — everything perfectly in order — and, on a rainy early-March morning, she drove to the Tennis Club an der Alster to hand it in before heading to the showroom.

The Confident Entrance

She parked in the members’ lot as if she were already a member and entered the reception hall, where she recognized the same receptionist she had met on her very first visit — the one who had told her it was nearly impossible to become a member.

The woman looked surprised when Regina confidently placed the Leitz binder on the counter.
“What’s this?” she asked.

Regina smiled. “My application for an out-of-town membership. I have everything that’s required.” She opened the binder proudly. “Here’s the letter from my company confirming that I’m only temporarily in Hamburg, and here are my two sponsors.”

The receptionist — who looked like a real-life version of Frau Rottenmeier from Heidi — took the binder, visibly reluctant.

Regina asked, “How long will it take until I hear from the board?”
“It can take a while,” the woman replied curtly.
“How long exactly?” Regina pressed.

Through gritted teeth, the receptionist answered, “Three to four weeks.”

“Perfect, that’s all I needed to know,” Regina said with a polite smile and turned on her heel and left.

The Silver Mercedes again

She drove to the showroom, then on to Berlin, where she had business meetings the next day. The drive took only three hours, so she decided to stay overnight. She spent the following day at KaDeWe, had meetings until late afternoon, and finally drove back to Hamburg that evening.

It was almost 11 p.m. when she arrived — rainy, windy, and cold. A miserable northern night. Regina could hardly wait to get home and run a hot bath.

But just as she turned into her parking space, she froze.

There it was again — the silver Mercedes.

She knew exactly whose car it was.
Mr. Blohm’s.

And she couldn’t help but wonder:
Did he have another karaoke machine hidden in there this time — and was that why he was once again parked in Gerhard’s spot?

The Man in the White Bathroom

Regina didn’t want to make a big scene — she was far too tired for that.
So she decided to park her car right on the slightly wider sidewalk directly in front of the house.

She opened the trunk to take out her suitcase. But as she turned around to walk toward the gate, she froze.

There he was — Mr. Blohm — standing barefoot, in a white bathrobe, holding a golf club in his hand.

“Good evening, Mrs. Martin,” he said calmly.

Regina was completely taken aback. She couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing: a man, barefoot, wearing only a white bathrobe, standing on the street with a golf club — in the cold, in the rain, at eleven o’clock at night, right next to the busy Sierichstraße. It was all very strange.
She had never seen anything like it.

And yet, she had to admit — Mr. Blohm looked incredibly sexy.

You have to understand something about Regina: she has a thing for white bathrobes.
In her opinion, no matter how unattractive, short, or round a man might be — a white bathrobe makes anyone look appealing.

There are exactly three things that Regina finds irresistibly sexy in a man:

1.         A white bathrobe.

2.         A scarf wrapped casually around the neck.

3.         A man placing one foot on a wall blog, resting his arm on his knee, and talking on the phone.

And if you’re wondering why Mr. Blohm was standing outside, barefoot, in a white bathrobe with nothing underneath, clutching a golf club in the middle of a cold, rainy Hamburg night at 11 p.m. —
then make sure you’ve got a full cases of SYLTBAR in your hand.

Because this story is truly one of a kind — and, believe it or not, it really happened.