Mrs. Martin & Mr. Blohm — Episode Twelve: Life is always where you haven’t been yet; any thing else is just a repetition

A New Start

About a week after her visit to Dr. Stahnke at the house of Rondeel 31 — where Regina had now been living for two weeks, in mid-February 2005 — she finally felt much better thanks to the medicine he had prescribed.

Regina had always loved playing tennis and staying active. But since moving to Hamburg on November 1, 2004, she hadn’t done any sports — not even tennis. One thing she had always appreciated about her relationship with Paul was that they both loved playing together. But since their breakup in January, and with her new job demanding all her focus, she hadn’t played at all.

Now that she felt confident in her new position at La Perla and had finally settled into her dream apartment on the Alster, she decided it was time to be sporty again. The only question was: with whom? Paul was out of the picture, and the only person she knew in Hamburg was her landlord, Gerhard Meier — who didn’t play tennis.

The Dream Club

On her way to the La Perla showroom, she noticed that just five minutes away on foot stood a tennis club called “Club an der Alster.”

Regina is very romantic, but on the other hand, also as practical as ever. She thought: If I can become a member there, I’ll surely meet new people — and maybe even find a tennis partner to play with. Who knows what this club has to offer? She had played tennis since the age of six and was a very good player. So, after recovering from her cold, she decided to stop by the club during her lunch break with the goal of becoming a member.

She walked from the showroom to the club during her lunch break, entered the reception hall, and introduced herself at the front desk.

The receptionist looked at her as if she had just arrived from another planet. Regina introduced herself quickly, and the receptionist lifted her head with an unmistakably arrogant look.

“Mrs. Martin, you must know this is a private club,” the woman said. “To become a member, you need at least two guarantors who are already members, and you must provide a Hamburg address. Your application then goes before the board — and on top of that, there’s a €15,000 registration fee.”

Regina was speechless and left immediately. She didn’t have that kind of money, nor did she know anyone who could act as a guarantor. And she disliked the receptionist’s arrogant tone.

Still, she had to admit — from the little she saw — that the Club an der Alster was truly beautiful.

Searching for Alternatives

Back at her showroom, Regina searched online for other tennis clubs. It was February, too cold to play outdoors, but the Club an der Alster had heated inflatable courts. Other clubs had them too, but far fewer — and most were at least a 10- to 15-minute drive away.

Every morning on her way to work, she passed the Club an der Alster and thought: What a pity that it’s so exclusive.

She kept wondering if maybe it had just been the receptionist’s attitude. Perhaps another staff member would be friendlier and give her different advice. So, a week later, she decided to try again during her lunch break.

The Second Attempt

February in Hamburg is always gray — and that day it was even worse: cold, rainy, and windy. Regina took her umbrella and walked the five minutes to the club once more.

When she entered the reception hall, she immediately noticed a different receptionist was on duty. Regina felt a flicker of hope. This time, she introduced herself with a story:

“My name is Regina Martin and I’m from Munich,” she said. “I’ve just moved to Hamburg and work for La Perla next door. I’m a good tennis player — I could really be a valuable addition to your club.”

The woman listened politely, and for a moment Regina thought she might succeed. But then the receptionist lifted her chin slightly, adjusted her glasses, and said:

“Mrs. Martin, here are the forms. You’ll need two guarantors who are current members, plus the €15,000 entrance fee and €5,500 annual membership fee. Once you have all that, we’ll be happy to review your application.”

Regina thought, at least this time she got the papers — even though she discovered another additional yearly fee of €5,500. She had neither the money nor the guarantors, and the fees seemed ridiculous to her.

(For our American readers: remember, this was 2005 in Germany — and those amounts were a fortune back then! Today, of course, such fees would hardly raise an eyebrow at an elite club.)

Regina thanked the receptionist politely and said she would come back, though she had no idea how she could ever meet the requirements.

A Chance Encounter

On her walk back to the showroom in the rain, she noticed a Sparkasse branch and remembered she needed cash. She shook off her umbrella, stepped inside, and joined the long line for the ATM — even though she hated waiting. But her mind was too busy thinking about how she could possibly make it into the Club.

A few seconds later, a man walked in carrying a tennis bag and dressed in sporty clothes. He lined up behind her. Regina immediately noticed the bag and thought: He must be a member of the Club an der Alster — it’s just around the corner, and he looks like he’s just come from a match.

As they waited, she gathered her courage.

“Do you play tennis?” she asked.

The man looked slightly irritated and replied with a single word:

“Yes.”

Regina felt awkward but continued, trying to fill the silence.

“I play too,” she said quickly.

He said nothing. She felt embarrassed, helpless — but kept talking anyway.

“I just moved from Munich to Hamburg,” she explained. “I’m looking for a tennis partner. Are you a member of the Club an der Alster?”

He nodded.

“Yes. I am a member of the Club an der Alster.”

Regina’s heart skipped a beat. Oh my God, she thought. This must be a sign!

And with that, fate had just opened a new door…

The Awkward Moment

Regina completely forgot about the line at the ATM. She had now moved right in front of the man, leaving a big gap to the person ahead of her. The man with the tennis bag glanced toward the machine, clearly wondering why this woman wasn’t moving forward.

But Regina didn’t even notice. All she could think about was that he was a member of the club. Her heart was beating fast.

“Would you like to play tennis with me?” she asked suddenly.

The moment the words left her mouth, she felt awful — embarrassed, awkward, and far too forward. Asking a man she had never met before in a bank lobby to play tennis with her — how lonely must that have sounded?

“I only play with my wife or my tennis coach,” the man replied calmly.

Boom. That answer hit her like a slap in the face. She froze. But strangely, the club she had been dreaming about suddenly felt closer than ever.

Still, she decided to try one last thing. She opened her handbag, pulled out a La Perla business card, and handed it to him.

“Just in case,” she said softly, “if your wife is sick and your coach is on vacation… you can call me. I’d love to play with you.”

The man looked at the card and didn’t even want to take it. But Regina, nervous and determined, practically placed it into his hand. Only after he finally accepted it did she turn around and move forward to the ATM.

She withdrew her cash, avoided eye contact, and walked straight out into the pouring rain. She didn’t say goodbye — she just wanted to disappear as fast as possible.

Tears in the Rain

On her way back to the showroom, tears mixed with the rain on her face. She felt humiliated and terribly lonely. The reaction of this man — a member of the prestigious Club an der Alster — had shaken her confidence completely.

In Munich, she thought, people are different — not so cold. At least they would make small talk, show some politeness, maybe even kindness. Regina felt deeply disappointed and, in that moment, had only one wish — to move back to Munich.

She missed Munich deeply. As her thoughts drifted back to her old life — and even to Paul — her phone suddenly rang. 

An unknown number.A Surprising Call

She hesitated, then answered, thinking it might be a La Perla customer.

“Hello, this is Roland Burger. I heard you’re looking for a tennis coach.”

Regina was confused.

“A tennis coach? Me? I’ve been playing since I was six — I don’t need lessons,” she thought.

Aloud she said:

“Sorry, who is speaking? And how did you get my number?”

“You met one of my clients,” the man replied. “He passed it along to me. I’m the tennis coach at the Club an der Alster.”

Regina straightened up. Now that sounded promising.

“Oh, I see,” she said. “You’re the coach of the Club an der Alster. Can you teach there?”

“Of course,” he answered.

“Alright,” Regina said. “When could we do a lesson?”

“How about this Saturday at 9 a.m.?”

Saturday 9 a.m.? Regina almost laughed. Really? Me, on a cold February morning at nine, hitting tennis balls?
She loved sleeping in on weekends — but she quickly realized this was her chance to finally get inside the club, to see it from within, maybe even gather insider information.

“Okay,” she agreed. “How much is the lesson?”

“Only €300,” Roland replied casually.

Regina’s eyes widened. Three hundred euros for one tennis lesson?! She couldn’t believe she had just agreed to it.

“See you Saturday,” Roland said. “When you arrive at the reception, just tell them you have a tennis lesson with me.”

And just like that, the next chapter of fate was set in motion.

Saturday Morning Nerves

“Looking forward to meeting you,” Roland said.
“Yes, me too,” Regina replied.

She hung up, still a little stunned by the call.
What did I just agree to — a tennis lesson for €300?

Could that cold, icy man from the bank have actually passed her business card to Roland?
Amazing!

Suddenly, all her tears and thoughts of Munich and Paul were gone. She felt light, almost dancing through the rain. Her bold move at the bank had brought her one step closer to maybe becoming a member of the Club an der Alster.

Regina was nervous that Saturday morning. She set her alarm for 8 a.m.—something she would never normally do. She always loved to sleep in on weekends. But today was different.

The sky showed a hint of blue, with a soft haze — cold but beautiful. For €300, she didn’t want to miss a single minute of her lesson.

She didn’t bother with makeup; this was about tennis, nothing else. She chose her light-blue Puma outfit — pants and jacket — and her favorite light-blue “destroyed style” cap. With her hair tied back in a ponytail, she left her studio at 8:30 a.m., giving herself enough time to find parking and arrive on time.

The Neighbor Upstairs

Just as she stepped out of her side entrance of Rondeel 31, a tall man wearing a short brown coat — very pale, with almost no hair — entered the front garden.

“Oh, hello!” he said, turning toward her. “My name is Claus Blohm, I’m your neighbor from upstairs.”

He reached out his hand.

Regina shook it quickly.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Regina Martin.”

Mr. Blohm continued talking:

“I just wanted to apologize for taking your parking space the other night. I had a karaoke machine in my car and didn’t want to leave it outside. It was very kind of you to leave your car on the street.”

Regina could hardly believe how much this man talked. She was under time pressure, barely listening — she only caught the words karaoke machine, which, to her, was an absolute no-go.

“That’s fine, Mr. Blohm, don’t worry. But I really have to go now to my tennis lesson. Bye-bye.”

As she turned toward her car, he called after her:

“Excuse me, Mrs. Martin — your cap, it’s … broken in the front!”

Regina stopped for a moment, puzzled.

“What? Broken?”

“Yes, it looks torn,” he replied seriously.

She didn’t smile and didn’t like that kind of joke. Politely but firmly, she replied…

“Mr. Blohm, I’m from Munich. There, it’s not called broken — it’s called fashionable. Goodbye, Mr. Blohm.”

Mr. Blohm said to Mrs. Martin, “Oh, I see. Interesting. I play tennis too — maybe we can play together one day.”

Mrs. Martin thought, I can’t believe this man just won’t stop talking. She didn’t say a word. But Mr. Blohm added, “I’d like to invite you for a glass of wine as an apology for taking your parking spot.”

Mrs. Martin said coldly, without turning back, just waving her hand as she got into her Mercedes. “All is fine, no need to invite me, Mr. Blohm. Bye-bye.” Then she closed the door and drove off.

Mr. Blohm thought to himself, I’m sure I’ll see Mrs. Martin again, and smiled.

Two Different Worlds

If someone had asked Mrs. Martin afterward what that man looked like, she couldn’t have said. She hadn’t noticed his eyes, his age, or much about him at all. Nothing about him attracted her.

Yes, he was tall — but that didn’t matter to her. He was pale — she preferred tanned skin. And most importantly, she cared about hair, and he had none.

The funny thing? The opposite was true for Mr. Blohm. He loved tall blonde women, especially when they wore his favorite color — light blue — and had blue eyes. He was instantly drawn to her and surprised how perfectly she matched the La Perla business card taped to her mailbox. From the very first second, he felt attracted to her.

But Mrs. Martin? She drove away without a single thought of Mr. Blohm — thinking only about Roland, the tennis coach, and how she might finally get inside the Club an der Alster.

Cheers to Real Life

Now you finally know how Mrs. Martin and Mr. Blohm met for the very first time.
From Mrs. Martin’s side, there was absolutely no chance of a relationship — or anything at all.

Want to know how the story continues?
Keep plenty of SYLTBAR cases on hand — because things are about to take a turn as wild as a rollercoaster.

Cheers to Match Point 🍾