Fortunately, I could borrow a friend’s bicycle; I was determined to bring her home that evening. She herself found it completely unnecessary. But this was the evening I had chosen—it would be our moment.
Our first meeting was during Dutch class in 11th grade. Calling it a “meeting” is a big word for the fact that she sat on the other side of the room, and I instantly fell in love with her. She knew nothing of it, but tonight would make it all clear to her. First day of 11th grade and head over heels in love. For me, it was a new school and a new class. For her, it wasn’t; she simply continued where she had left off in 10th grade. This made me one of the few changes in her situation. She didn’t seem fazed in the least—something that would also change tonight.
The Lost Bus Love
I had fallen head over heels for a girl once before. She was sitting in a city bus that stopped on Coosje Buskenstraat in Vlissingen, near the old V&D department store. As I walked by, I glanced inquisitively at the passengers inside. There she was, alone on a double seat in the middle of the bus. Gazing out the window at seemingly nothing. Her dreamy expression, beautiful brown hair, and finely chiseled face left a deep impression on me. I wanted to share my life with this woman—have children and grow old together. The image of this woman, really just a girl, trembled behind the window as the engine revved and the bus started to pull away. I stood rooted to the spot, deeply in love and momentarily stunned. But realization dawned that the bus was leaving, taking the love of my life out of sight. Adrenaline coursed through me. Run, run—that’s all I could do. The next stop was at the start of Scheldestraat, in front of the Kloet snack bar. It wasn’t meant to be. I arrived out of breath, turning the corner, only to see the bus heading to the next stop in the distance. My true love was being snatched away from me. I tried to make that painfully clear to the driver, who had no intention of stopping. It took me weeks to get over it—weeks in which I regularly stood at the Coosje Buskenstraat stop, hoping to see my bus-girl again.
The chance for a first kiss
That wasn’t going to happen to me a second time, so I was determined to bring my new love home safe and sound. The thought of our goodbye kiss had been burning in my mind for days. I had even scouted out the alley next to her house in advance. That’s where the kiss would happen—my very first kiss with the woman I would spend all my future years with.
I had known for a while where she lived. I found out by following her from a safe distance after school. The last stretch was too risky, so I looked up the house number in the phone book. I “coincidentally” biked past it countless times. The alley next to her house, where she always disappeared from my view, I only checked out later. It seemed too risky—what if she suddenly came outside? Casually passing by on the street might be okay, but an alley was far less plausible. So I skipped Dutch class once. She was there in class, which gave me a sense of security—and I needed that. Your first kiss should be prepared in peace, free from onlookers.
The school party and the borrowed bike
That evening had finally arrived. We barely knew each other after some four months. Now there was a class party.
“Tonight was the night. We’d barely known each other for about four months.”
No male competitors in sight—only her girlfriends from school. I didn’t dance, and I wasn’t brave enough to talk to her much. It must have been close to eleven when she indicated she was leaving. Casually, I told her I’d bring her home. “That’s not necessary,” she said, looking genuinely surprised. “It’s really no problem; I’m heading that way anyway.” That was when I first realized that good preparation is half the battle. She didn’t see it coming, and I didn’t pose a question; I made a statement—a golden strategy.
We went outside to find our bicycles. At the worst possible moment, I discovered a flat tire on mine. “Wait a minute,” I called out and ran back inside. I demanded a bicycle from one of my friends. He had borrowed his father’s bike that evening, and the man turned out to be quite short—just like his bike. That didn’t deter me; I had to get moving, on my way to my first kiss. To make matters worse, only the third gear worked. That was great for the very first meter—quite fast indeed. Then I was pedaling like crazy on a bike that was far too small.
A moment that never arrived
She was calmly pedaling alongside me. The top of my head didn’t even reach her shoulder. For every one of her pedal strokes, I had to pedal four times—an unwinnable race from the start. Conversation was impossible because I was too out of breath, awkwardly tilting my head upward, with no clue what to say in such an embarrassing situation. Still, I insisted on bringing her home, and so I did.
Arriving at the alley, I was stunned at her quick reflexes. In one seamless motion—key, gate—she vanished into thin air. “See you tomorrow,” she called over the fence as it clicked shut. “Yeah,” was almost too much for me. With the last bit of energy, I managed to say, “Yeah, see you tomorrow.”
“The kiss never came. For months, I clung to the hope of ‘see you tomorrow.’”
One day, she got a boyfriend—my friend, the one with that bike…
“The kiss never came. For months, I clung to the hope of ‘see you tomorrow.’”
One day, she got a boyfriend—my friend, the one with that bike…
Insights into risk management
Which risks could affect your goal? In addition to a well-thought-out plan, the right materials and resources are crucial for achieving your objectives. A good excuse, but I had never heard of quality management back then.
