Today I went to see my psychiatrist but he forgot to tell me he’d be out of town. His office is in a studio behind his house, which has a large front courtyard.

Two beautiful young women appeared in the courtyard and explained that they were houseguests. They invited me inside to have a glass of wine and hang out. I laughed and said no, but when I found out that they were in a band, I changed my mind.

I went into the house and we talked about their band. One girl played violin and the other was a singer. I didn’t drink the wine, but for the next three hours we talked about everything there is to talk about.

We talked about death, family, sex, love, religion, childhood, bluegrass, jazz, fado and lipstick. The singer asked if I was wearing MAC Ruby Woo.   Naturally, we high-fived to the goodness of Ruby Woo. I shared my grown-up wisdom with them: Wear shorts as much as you can while you’re young! They were already wearing shorts, so they probably knew this intuitively.

I told them about my sons and they were incredibly sweet and compassionate. Then, they offered to play a song for me.

I closed my eyes and was transported by the sound of a soulful violin and a gorgeous smoky voice that soared and dipped in Spanish, a level of passion and musicianship that blew me away. When the song ended, we were all knocked out by how great it was. They weren’t used to paying as a duo.

They played another song and I imagined a huge career for them. Their beauty would be a bonus, I told them. We exchanged email addresses and it was hard to part. They walked me to my car and we hugged. One smelled like patchouli and one smelled like flowers.

I drove home feeling grateful that I could give myself over to happiness when the opportunity presented itself. I thought about how Max would have loved the singer, who wore winged black eyeliner.

When I got home, no one wanted to hear my amazing story. Regular people are hungry and cranky or  exhausted, and don’t give a shit about your magical day. They just want dinner.