I had seen her every day at Dunkin’ when I would get my coffee. She radiated beauty, a joyous spirit. She was about 5’3”, blonde hair, dressed young. She’d say hi to these guys who I knew were dads, spoken for.

And I didn’t think I was good enough.

So I went to my therapist. “There’s a girl at Dunkin I like” I began. I wouldn’t say she was hot as much as she was beautiful. She had a nice smile, she seemed very nice. And I said I wanted to say hi to her, get to know her, and - dare to dream - make her my girlfriend. Being 41, and divorced in a past life, things just didn’t work for me. They just never did. I mean, I’m over my divorce, and we’re friends. But she’s married, and has kids, and I want that for myself. But it hasn’t happened.

My therapist’s message to me wasn’t you can do this, you can win her love, it was don’t let this consume you. Don’t obsess, don’t put her on a pedestal. Once you get to know her, she stops being a goddess, and she starts being a person. Did she want it to work out for me? Sure. But that also meant that whatever happened, I’d be fine in the end.

The next day I got in line and I got my stuff. And she came in. And she had on a black and white striped sweater, black pants and sandals. She painted her toenails a soft shade of pink and didn’t paint her fingernails. And she didn’t have a ring on. The clincher? The sweater was cropped, giving just a tease of her tanned, bare midriff. So I got back in line because I forgot something. Or at least that’s what I was going to say.

“Good morning!” I said.

She turned around. “Good morning!” she said. And I smiled, because she gave me a smile.

“How are you?” I asked.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“My name is Glenn,” I said, extending my hand. “Two N’s”

“I’m Melissa,” she said, extending her hand. “Hi!” No ‘Glenn with two N’s, huh?’ Just a hello.

“Nice to meet you!” I said. And, even so, I was excited: if nothing else, she was talking to me!

Then to make conversation I said “My birthday was three days ago!”

“Really?” Melissa asked. “How old?” I noticed just how pretty she was, almost flawlessly so, and her blue eyes and her smiled, her body, her wardrobe.

“Forty one,” I answered.

“Same here!” she said. “Getting old!”

“No way,” I said. “You? Forty one! I don’t believe jt!”

This was when they took Melissa’s order. Iced coffee, skim milk, two espresso flavor shots. And I ordered a blueberry muffin, toasted.

Almost as fast as she got her stuff, she headed out. “Have a good day!” she said, as she left the store.

“And you!” I said.

While it was nice I finally broke through, it just seemed like I feared: nothing was there. This is always the way it is with me. Either I like them or they like me. And never the twain shall meet.

For a couple of months I would see her in the shop. And we’d talk. Not much more than how are you, what do you have going on, that sort of thing. I didn’t try to force things, we’d say things, she knew me, I knew her. I even saw her at a high school football game, where her daughter was a cheerleader. She was sitting by herself, occasionally talking to the other moms. I wanted to talk to her - badly - but didn’t want to push it. I did, however, talk about it the next time we met - her daughter was head cheerleader and she was going to Boston College on a cheerleading scholarship. “I didn’t know they existed!” I said. And she said “Neither did I! But they do!”

Toward the end of the year I got a promotion I had been chasing: a job at the home office in Raleigh. It was big, I’d be Director of Strategic Initiatives for the entire company. And the move was easy: I didn’t own any property, I was unattached, my brother lived in Cleveland, and my parents, while we were not estranged, not distant, I just wasn’t close to them. And the friends I have here, there was no one I couldn’t keep in touch with FaceTime, text, like that. Which I pretty much now, anyway.

The move would be after the first of the year. So just before Christmas I bought a $20 gift card as I ordered my stuff. And Melissa came in: she wore leather jacket, jeans, fashion boots - and she looked beautiful. Like the song, a goddess of beauty and love (and Melissa was her name). Compare her classy outfit to me in a Boston Red Sox varsity jacket, jeans, and black high top adidas. But at least the Sox jacket was in like new condition and looked good. So there was that.

We left the store. Before she headed to her car I called her out. “Melissa,” I said.

“Hi!” she said. She never called me by my name. But she did say “Red Sox, huh?”

“Yeah, big fan,”. I said. “Anyway. This is for you,” I said, handing her the greeting card in a little orange and magenta envelope. To Melissa. from Glenn. Value, $20 USD. Gotta put USD there, it’s kind of my thing.

She smiled at this. “Thank you!” and got ready to head off.

Last chance Glenn, I thought. Speak your peace.

“Melissa,” I began.

She turned around and smiled. “Yes?” she asked.

I swallowed hard.

“I’m heading to North Carolina for work,” I started.

“Well congratulations!” she said. “Good for you!”

“Thanks,”. I said. “And Melissa…”

She looked at me as if she was waiting for me to say something.

And here we go….

“Melissa…I just want you to know I think you’re a very beautiful woman. One of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. I love your eyes, I love your smile, I like the way you dress, your voice….” I could see her smile, just a little bit and I went on.

“I know..it doesn’t look like we’re meant to be together…and I don’t know if you have a boyfriend, or a husband….but I, a lot of times, wish I could have been that for you. Sometimes, I’ll be out, or over my folks house, or at work, and I’ll think of you. Sweet Melissa….like the song. And I’d wish you were there with me, you know? ‘’Mom, Dad, this is Melissa, my girlfriend. Josh - that’s my brother, Josh, - this is my girlfriend Melissa - and that’s her daughter….sorry, I don’t know your daughters name…”

She looked at me, not in a hurry to go, not feeling the passion I felt, but still wanted to be nice, hear me out. “Her name is Allison,” she told me.

“Allison,” I echoed.

“You know, Melissa, I know that you don’t feel the same, but to me these ten minutes every morning - 7am, more or less - it’s the best part of my day, and the worst part of my day. Because I get to see you. I get to dream that you like me exactly the way I want you to like me. And when you give me a smile, or say hello, it makes my day.”

“I don’t know you, I know that. But what little I know about you, you’re everything I could posssibly wish for, hope for. You’re beautiful, yes. But you’re kind. I can tell. You’re living. I can tell. I don’t know about Allison’s dad, and if he’s in your life, but I have to think he felt the same way.

“Anyway, Melissa, know that I wished for you since I first saw you. Know that I hoped that we would be friends. That you’d give me your number and call me. That every afternoon we’d call each other at 2, or 3 or whenever and share how our day was going. To tell each other we were thinking of each other.

“And that you tell your friends about this guy you met at Dunkin. And then when I met them ‘Oh Melissa, is THIS the young man you can’t start talking about?” And you’d say yes, this is my boyfriend Glenn.” “Oh, he such a cutie!” And Melissa gave one of her big smiles, no doubt in spite of herself.

“Melissa - know that more than money - more than professional success - seeing the Lions FINALLY win a Super Bowl…” and she laughs at this. “More than any of that - I wish that I was all that to you. That you felt the way about me the same way I feel about you. It would make me happy.”

And then I say it.

“I love you Melissa. I do. I really do.” Then I reached over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. And I headed to my car. “Use that card to take Allie or your friends for coffee one morning. And I hope you’ll think of me when you do.

“I wont keep you any more. Thanks for hearing me out. I’ll see you Melissa. Someday. Merry Christmas.”

And then finally. “Merry Christmas, Glenn!” And she gave me the slightest smile as I started my car, and drove off…and she watched me drive off.

I felt sad. My heart was broken. But I did say what was in my heart. And I thought that, in the same way Vin Scully narrating the bottom for the 9th of Sandy Koufax’s perfect game was erudite baseball literature that he said totally off the cuff, my soliloquy was poetry - raw, longing, passionate, pure, and totally from the heart.

I really wanted - wished for - Melissa to be my girlfriend. And I still do. Still, as I headed to my office, I just thought one thing…

Remember how this feels. Remember how you feel now. The longing. The wishing.

Remember how powerful your feelings were - are - for Melissa. How you are overcome by them.

Maybe this didn’t work out as you had hoped. But know that there is a Melissa out there for you.

And she’ll be better than this Melissa.

She will be.

And she’s out there. Somewhere.

And you’ll find each other.

Soon.

And don’t stop until you do.

We’re on to Raleigh. And a Merry Christmas to one and all.