The phone wasn’t busy forever, and this is what happened next. This might blow your mind. The phone begins to ring, and it’s like getting through to the radio station offering Stones tickets to a small club date. Ring Ring. Ring Ring. Someone picks up the phone:

"Hello, Crawdaddy’s."

"??!??CRAWDADDY’S?!?!??!Nofuckingway?!!??!! Is Shelly there?"

"Yeah"

"You’re kidding me. This is unbelievable. Was she there when I was there twenty minutes ago? I think I spoke to you about the menu and my Visa card…was Shelly there that whole time?"

"Yeah, she was, that was me. I’m Shelly. I thought you looked familiar."

"NO FUCKING WAY. You mean to tell me that I spoke to you and I didn’t even recognize you? Oh, God, that’s too strange. What is this world coming to? How the hell are you?"

"You know, you got me in trouble. That was my boyfriend on the phone just now. He’s really mad at me."

"Yeah, I thought that might be him. Look, I’m sorry. It’s no big deal is it?"

Guess what? It was a big deal. Her tone of voice was not joining mine on the road to matrimony. I really blew it by not recognizing her. Romances need that. They thrive on having the guy travel thousands of miles, run into the object of his desire, and then recognize her. It’s essential. My first mistake was making dinner reservations, when I should have been hurdling over the counter and sweeping her off her feet.

Those cupids really let me down. They must have thought I could handle the rest by myself--so instead of following through and walking me over to Crawdaddy’s, they went off to have a beer. Didn’t they see how much trouble I was having trying to recognize Shelly ever since I landed in El Paso. I needed a little more help. Now everything’s screwed up. Stupid Cupids.

I'll tell ya, I fully intended to give you the play by play right up through the fourth quarter of this Cinderella story, but I don’t think it will do either of us any good. At this point, when I became conscious of the enormity of my folly, I knew in my heart that the wicked step-sisters would win this one. I continued to play my best till the final whistle, but the ring was not going to be mine. Bummer.

My image and memory of Shelly was of a woman who could transcend the mundane trivialities of life and love on Earth and join me on my planet where all this magic was happening. You know what I mean? I went out to El Paso on a romantic adventure. I was ready for every obstacle but the one I was facing. She wasn’t enthused by my visit. Her imagination had not been sparked. She was not going to be the one. The good news is that I discovered the magic for myself, and can pass the news along. The bad news is obvious. The other good news is that I hung out with Anna, Mona and their El Paso artist crew every night till dawn and we had a blast. It was pure bohemia for four days. Shelly and my mission of love had segued into the best possible alternative -- worthy of its own story one day.

As for this story today, it ends with me running past the old OJ in the El Paso airport trying to make my flight. The plane door smacked me on the butt as I boarded -- homeward bound to spend Passover with my family in New York. Alone but not defeated. Like Moses on Mt. Sinai, I was allowed to see the face of God but was not invited into the promised land. No milk and no honey for Gordie. Not yet, anyway.