Mrs. Martin & Mr. Blohm - Episode Eighteen: Wanting is the little brother of having to - just voluntarily.

When Regina lands in Munich on the morning of March 17th, the weather already feels like spring — so much warmer than Hamburg had been that day.
That is the beauty of the south of Germany: the farther south you go, the warmer it gets.
And as you already know, dear readers — Regina loves warm weather and sunshine.

Immediately, she feels it again: how much she has missed Munich…
but even more, how her dream of moving to Miami suddenly feels very far away.

She had spent the last few months in Hamburg doing nothing but working, except for her first little escape to Denmark to visit her friend Evelyn. Regina still has no friends in Hamburg, and the Tennis Club on the Alster still hasn’t contacted her about the guest membership she applied for.

Five months in Hamburg — and still no real sense of belonging. Her only connection is her quirky hairdresser-landlord Gerhard.

And Mr. Blohm?
Not a single message from him in the three weeks since she had texted him from Denmark to thank him for the CD he had given her for the drive.

Munich Magic, Hamburg Realities

Regina decides that when she returns to Hamburg tomorrow morning, she will cancel the dinner Mr. Blohm wanted to cook for her. Enough is enough.

She takes the S-Bahn (a kind of subway in Munich) directly into the city, to Stephansplatz — right next to the Hotel Bayerischer Hof.
It was exactly here, back then, that Regina made the big decision with her friend Claudia:
not to accept the job offer from Tommy Hilfiger in Munich, but to choose La Perla instead.

And by doing so, she had also chosen Hamburg — a decision that changed her life in ways she could never have imagined

She ended her relationship with Paul, moved into her dream studio apartment directly on the Alster, and built a new chapter.

As she steps out of the Munich station, she breathes deeply.
It feels good to be back.
Munich feels familiar, warm… like home. She knows every corner of this city.

Regina walks into the new salon “Le Cope,” owned by her landlord Gerhard Meir. She’s curious what awaits her.
She meets old acquaintances — a little kiss on the cheek here and there. In Munich, they call it the Bussi-Bussi Society.

She has to drink a glass of some unknown Champagne — the kind you usually get at events where no one really knows what they’re drinking — sadly, because her favorite Prosecco isn’t available.
She’s a bit nervous; there’s a chance she might run into Paul here.
But she doesn’t.
He isn’t there for whatever reason — unusual for him — but honestly, it’s better this way, she thinks.
There is no way back anyhow.

In two weeks, she’ll send a moving company to pick up her furniture from Paul’s apartment in Munich, and she will be there in person to collect her close belongings — especially her wedding dress, which has been sitting in that white box for more than five years.
That dress deserves to finally see the light again.
Then that Paul chapter will finally, truly be closed.

Many people arrive at the event — it’s a full house — all congratulating Gerhard on his new salon.
Regina chats here and there. The same topic always comes up:
“How do you like Hamburg?”
“And isn’t it remarkable how different the cities are?”

Regina even flirts a little — there are many new faces at the party, and she enjoys being in her new single skin.

After the event fades down, the evening continues — bar hopping to all the places Regina hasn’t visited in ages… and of course, to finish the night, a private party.
Regina takes in everything Munich has to offer.
She hasn’t celebrated like this — hasn’t even danced — since moving to Hamburg.

A Hangover and A Broken Phone

She originally planned to stay overnight at her friend Elena’s place…
but that doesn’t happen.
Regina parties until the early morning hours.
Then she takes a taxi straight to the airport, so she won’t miss her flight.

Exhausted and hungover, she collapses into her seat on the plane and falls asleep instantly.
The flight from Munich to Hamburg is just one hour, and when the plane lands, she wakes up miserable.

“How am I going to survive this day?” she mutters to herself.
She has La Perla meetings all day in the showroom.

“That’s what happens when you drink Champagne or cocktails without knowing exactly what’s in them,” Regina thinks.
She wishes she had been drinking her favorite Prosecco all night — then she wouldn’t feel like this.
But it’s so hard to get.

At 8 a.m., she steps out of the airport in Hamburg, dead tired.
All she wants is to go home to Rondeel 31 and sleep. But she can’t — she has important appointments in the showroom.

She switches on her phone to text Mr. Blohm and cancel the dinner.
Perfect excuse: she feels awful.
Even if George Clooney himself invited her tonight — impossible. Regina feels so hungover.

But when she turns on her phone…
The screen goes black.

“How strange,” Regina thinks — she has never experienced anything like this before.
She takes a taxi straight to a Telekom store; she still has a little time to fix this phone issue.
The friendly salesman at Telekom checks the device and says:

“Yes, that’s a short circuit. All your contacts are gone.”

Regina stares at him.
“But… where did they go?”

Dear reader, this was 2005.
There were no backups.
No clouds.
When your contacts were gone — they were gone forever.

“Oh no,” Regina whispers.
“How am I supposed to cancel on Mr. Blohm? I don’t have his phone number or his business card anymore!”

The first handwritten note Mr. Blohm ever gave her — the one with the invitation for a glass of wine and his phone number — she had thrown away, of course.

Regina is far too tired to get upset, and she’s also under time pressure. She needs to get to the showroom. She tells herself she’ll think about how to cancel Mr. Blohm’s dinner invitation later.

The Telekom salesperson manages to get her mobile phone working again — but without any contacts.

Regina says thank you and rushes off to the showroom.

She pushes through all her appointments and has only one wish:
to go home and sleep.

From Chaos to Candlelight

When she drives into her parking spot in the evening, she catches a glimpse of herself in the rear-view mirror.
She looks exhausted.
And hungry — she hasn’t eaten all day.

She checks the time on the car clock — because, as you know, Regina doesn’t wear watches and doesn’t like clocks.
7 p.m.
Exactly the time they had agreed on for the dinner date three weeks ago.

Unbelievable she thinks.
Her inner time-sense has guided her to be exactly on time — something very unlike her.

She gets out of her black Mercedes and looks up toward Mr. Blohm’s windows.
Soft light glows from all four windows of his condo.

A thought crosses her mind:
“It would be impolite not to show up without cancelling.”

And Regina is not the kind of person who simply doesn’t show up — it’s not in her character.

She imagines him upstairs preparing a simple plate of Penne all’Arrabbiata…
and a glass of her favorite Prosecco.
She knows he loves it too — so he would surely have it ready.

And suddenly…
it all sounds very tempting.
And the fact that they live only three floors apart… it won’t take longer than an hour to enjoy a warm dinner and a glass of her favorite Prosecco — why not, she asks herself.

And the coincidence that her phone died today, wiping out all her contacts and making it impossible to cancel…
Regina sees it as a sign.

Maybe this was meant to be.

Regina presses the doorbell — without much enthusiasm — on the panel where her La Perla business card is still taped in the spot where her name tag should actually be.
She thinks to herself: I really need to take care of that and get my name properly added to this doorbell board — and the same goes for my mailbox.

But to fix it, she would have to print her name, find a screwdriver, and install it perfectly.
“These German doorbell boards can be so complicated,” she thinks.

But then another thought crosses her mind:
Maybe Mr. Blohm could take care of this. That’s what neighborhood is all about, right?

From No Reply… to a Michelin-Level Dinner Date?

She hears Mr. Blohm’s voice through the intercom:
“Yes?”
“Good evening, Mr. Blohm,” Regina replies. “It’s Mrs. Martin. We have our dinner appointment tonight.”

No answer — only the buzzing sound of the white main door unlocking.

She walks upstairs to the third floor. The door is already open.
Mr. Blohm is nowhere to be seen.

Regina steps into the apartment — and is stunned.

The long dining table is beautifully set for two people sitting across from each other:
White roses, candles, olives, grissini.
The lights are dimmed softly, and in the background, she hears Luis Miguel playing.

At that moment, Mr. Blohm comes out of the kitchen, wearing jeans, a light blue shirt, and a brown corduroy blazer.

Good evening, Mrs. Martin,” he says. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I’m just finishing the tomato bruschetta, which will be our starter tonight. There’s a little red theme running through the menu. After the bruschetta, we’ll have a rucola salad with raspberry dressing, then king prawns with homemade tomato-sauce linguine, and for dessert, a strawberry ice parfait.”

Regina is speechless.
She must be dreaming.
So much effort — far beyond “just a plate of Penne all’Arrabbiata.”

This feels more like a Michelin-level menu, and it will certainly take longer than one hour.

She is genuinely impressed — and as you, dear readers, may have already noticed, it is not easy to impress Regina.

Mr. Blohm asks politely whether she would like a glass of her favorite Prosecco — he has already opened the bottle because he used a splash of it to refine the tomato sauce for the prawns.

Amazing how fast fatigue can evaporate when something interesting appears. She is suddenly curious — and honestly, Regina is impressed that Mr. Blohm still remembered this date from three weeks ago so precisely and prepared the evening in such a lovely way.

For Regina, reliability is one of the most important qualities a man can have.

Her eyes grow wider as she walks into the kitchen — separate from the living and dining area.
Mr. Blohm is moving around confidently in his blazer as if he were a chef.
Even Regina thinks the blazer is a little too overdressed for cooking, and she has a feeling Mr. Blohm is trying to impress her.

Everything looks under control — clearly, he cooks often, Regina thinks.
Another point in his favor; Regina loves homemade meals.

She says yes, of course, to her favorite Prosecco without hesitation.
She notices the bottle already resting in a beautiful glass wine cooler, perfectly chilled.

A Corduroy Blazer & A Perfect Prosecco Toast

Mr. Blohm hands her the glass, and they toast — looking each other in the eyes for the very first time.
And Regina wonders: If he’s putting so much effort into this evening… why didn’t he answer my text message during these entire three weeks?

“To a lovely evening, Mrs. Martin,” he says.
Regina smiles. “Yes — and honestly Mr Blohm, you may take your blazer off. Cooking must be easier without it.”
She thinks to herself: Who cooks in a corduroy blazer? But Mr. Blohm makes no move to take off his blazer, nor does he react to Regina’s suggestion at all.

He arranges the fresh bruschetta on two plates and carries them carefully to the dining table.

“Please have a seat, Mrs. Martin,” he says.

While he was in the kitchen, Regina took the chance to observe his apartment carefully — like a cat would when entering a new place, inspecting every corner — and everything matched her taste perfectly:

·       white bedding

·       white towels

·       dimmed lighting

·       real candles

·       and the bouquet of white roses — absolutely her style

She also noticed several beautiful ashtrays — Versace, Hermès — scattered around his condo, yet not a hint of smoke in the air. Very strange, she thought. Regina herself is a smoker and always tries to hide it when she’s around someone who doesn’t smoke.
But in this case, she wasn’t sure about Mr. Blohm at all.
Why would he have so many ashtrays if he didn’t smoke? she wondered.

Flower Power

As she sits down, she says:
“The white roses are beautiful.”

Self-assured as ever, Mr. Blohm replies:
“Yes, I buy fresh flowers every week at the famous Isemarkt. I go there regularly for groceries. And cooking — well, I really do love it.”

He sits down opposite Regina.
“Enjoy,” he says. “I hope you like tomato bruschetta.”

Regina takes a bite — and is once again deeply impressed.
“It’s delicious,” she says, while thinking the very same thing.
This man surprises her more and more.
She can hardly believe it.
When was the last time a man cooked something truly wonderful for her?

In that moment, Regina decides:
Tonight she will tell Mr. Blohm honestly and openly what she wants in life.
No filter.
No compromise.
She has the feeling that perhaps Mr. Blohm deserves a closer look — even if he doesn’t match the physical type of her usual Latino men.

Still…
He has something that pulls her in.

Now, it’s time to lean back and find out whether Mr. Blohm’s vision of life matches hers —
or whether, once again, their worlds will collide.

A man who drives around with a karaoke machine in his car… and then secures it in Regina’s parking spot.
A man who insists on a fixed meeting time and would rather wait three whole weeks than adjust by a single hour to meet up.
A man who loses his car keys… and stands in the middle of a cold February night wearing nothing but a white bathrobe, barefoot, holding a golf club in his hand.
And a man who doesn’t reply to text messages for weeks — even though he created a romantic CD for Mrs. Martin with “It Had to Be You” as the first song, leaving no doubt about his interest…

What could be the reason for all these contradictions?

To find out, dear reader — Episode 19 is already in preparation.

And waiting for the next chapter is, as always, much easier with a glass of SYLTBAR, as you know. 🥂✨