Louis XIII
“Always seek friendship, as you will find it in the most unlikely of places.”
- Unknown
It was the end of summer 2017, but the weather was still stifling hot when I went to meet Louis for the first time. Still getting used to my new neighborhood, I thought I could walk to the Meatpacking District, not accounting for the effect the long walk and muggy weather would have on my hair (curly hair problems).
"I'm out with some friends," he said. "Come meet us, and then we’ll go somewhere else on our own together."
I considered it – meeting friends seemed a bit forward on our first meeting, but I’m always up for a good challenge and love meeting new people in general. So, I showed up, fuzzy hair and all, at the Standard Bier Garden and headed over to the spot Louis said he’d be.
Louis stood amidst his friends in a trucker hat and a down-filled vest – a far cry from the pretentious New Yorker casual fashion you usually come across. Indeed, even his friends were more dressed up for the occasion than he was, and there was a very good reason for this: Louis, you see, is from a small town back home in Alberta. And Louis is shockingly confident in who he is – maybe it’s all the hockey he’s played through the years, eh?
If you’re wondering what the friends of an Alberta-bred boy who transplanted himself to New York are like, I can confirm they’re exactly what my fellow Albertans would imagine. Immediately, one pulled me aside – a jovial guy with a bright pocket handkerchief.
“How do you know Louis?” he asked.
“Tinder,” I replied honestly. Long gone are the days when meeting someone on an app is considered embarrassing. I’m beginning to think that’s the ONLY way people meet nowadays.
“Don’t tell him I told you this,” he continued, “but he’s really well…equipped.”
I made a face. “I didn’t ask for those details.”
The guy shrugged. “Well, now you know. Don’t get all uptight about it.”
I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t sure how crazy I was about this group date. That said, the group reminded me of something I would find back in Fernie or Calgary and not here, which was surprisingly, slightly refreshing. I felt more comfortable than I would with any other group of strange men.
My date and I clicked right away – maybe it was the similarity in our Canadian origins. Although we didn’t split off from his friends like he’d promised, we did kick off an evening of bar-hopping that did not end until some time later.
At one point of the night, one of Louis’ older friends leaned over, beer in his hand.
“So you’re from Canada too?” he’d asked.
I nodded.
“What do you think about the problem you have over there right now?”
Was he being funny? “Problem?” I asked, politely. “As in our leader being too handsome or too sane for your liking?”
“The refugee problem,” the man said, sparking a 45-minute long debate about the Syrian refugees Canada has let into the country upon the swearing-in of Trudeau.
After the friend left, heated and clearly not swayed by my arguments in support of refugees in need of assistance, Louis walked over, an amused look on his face.
“I think I insulted your friend,” I said earnestly. I think he bordered on insulting me too...
“Do you know who that is?” he asked. I shook my head - no. “He’s the leader of a very large union in the city. He’s had quite the influence on the city over the last few decades.”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t change my opinions on refugees - but I’m pretty sure he hates me.”
I gave the friend space for the rest of the evening and stood with Louis and his other friends, where I was somehow given the nickname Canadian Katy Perry (or CKP for short). When the time came for him to leave, the friend I'd debated with stopped by the group to say goodbye.
“Have a good night,” he said, addressing the group of men around me. Then he turned his attention to me and pointed. I prepared myself for the worst. “That girl - she’s a smart one, Louis. I respect her and her opinions and look forward to talking with her again.”
I exchanged a surprised glance with Louis. I'd officially passed the friend test.
I spent a considerable amount of time with Louis and his friends over the next few weeks but more and more realized that I wasn’t really going on any one-on-one dates with the guy. I called his attention to this as we were at the King Cole in the St. Regis one night, sitting at the bar.
“We’ve been on lots of dates,” he argued with me.
“Group dates don’t count as dates, Louis,” I argued. “I never get to talk to you one on one!”
He opened his mouth to protest and then closed it, pausing momentarily.
“Fine,” he said finally. “I’ll book a helicopter, and we can do the Hamptons next weekend.”
I frowned, annoyed at the point being missed. “No,” I stated. “I just want to go for dinner. Just a nice dinner where we talk, like normal humans. I have been seeing you for weeks now but have never actually had a chance to talk.”
He raised his hands in defense. “Ok, ok! A normal date over dinner it is.”
I smiled, satisfied with this turn of events. I looked around the bar, hoping to turn the conversation to a lighter note. “See that bottle, there?” I said, pointing to a round bottle in the middle of the bar display.
He nodded.
“That’s Louis XIII cognac. I always promised myself that when I really do something amazing in my life, I’d buy a glass to celebrate. Once I graduate or get a real job again or something, that glass will be mine.”
For those who don’t know a lot about it - my first experience with Louis XIII was when I was in Vegas. Some of the guys we’d met talked about it and how expensive it was, and then one of my best guy friends a few months later bought it for his father-in-law’s birthday. Louis XIII is made from a rare grape in the Grande Champagne vineyards in France and then aged in oak barrels that date back centuries. I’m not even a cognac fan, but there is so much intrigue behind tasting a $500 glass of any kind of drink. Would it be as good as it sells itself to be?
Louis was quick on his toes despite being a few drinks in. “You made it to New York. That’s an accomplishment.”
I sat up straight, aware of where this admission of mine could lead. “No, that’s not what I meant.”
“You got into school too,” Louis continued. “That’s another.”
“No,” I repeated. “No, no - I know where you’re going with this and no, I don’t think you should continue.”
He was two steps ahead of me, motioning the bartender over. “We’ll get a glass of Louis XIII, please,” he said. My protests were futile.
The bartender placed a glass on the bar, reached up and unceremoniously dumped the cognac into the glass in front of me before turning away to help another customer.
Louis and I stared for a moment at the golden liquid sitting before me.
“You know,” he said finally. “For $500, you’d expect a little more pomp and circumstance than that.”
I laughed. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
He smiled, and we all took turns trying the drink. Turns out, the distilling process that Remy puts Louis XIII through really does make a world of difference. How was it, you ask? Smoother than any alcohol I have ever tasted to date. It was incredible.
Sadly, Louis and I ended the day of the first one-on-one date. We had a nice evening at the Russian Baths, followed by a solid Italian dinner where we actually talked and had a really great time. I was impressed by Louis’ humble personality - he’d done and accomplished a lot of really amazing things, and he kept showing little signs of how truly intelligent he is, but he never bragged or name-dropped. It was a solid combination of admirable qualities. After dinner, I acquiesced to a breaking of my date terms, and we went to meet his friends for a group date at a nearby bar. We sat down at the table and began chatting with everyone as the bottles of rosé started flowing.
At some point in the evening, Louis turned to me. “So, there’s something I haven’t told you.”
I froze. The dreaded six words that can ultimately change things - Louis was about to drop a bomb on me.
“Ok…” I said slowly, watching him for any hint of what it was. “What is it?”
“I have a daughter,” he said.
I felt my body go stiff. For those who don’t know me, children and motherhood in any way have never really been something I’ve wanted for myself. I respect all of my friends who differ in that area (and love spending time with their kids like crazy), but after seeing what my parents went through losing my little brother and also after being forced to grow up so fast after that loss, I decided very early on that I wanted my adult life to focus on me and the things I love. Having kids, or dating men with children wasn’t something I was looking for in my life. Actually, dating men who ARE children should also be something I keep out of my life, but that's a whole other ball game that doesn't involve Louis. Ha.
Panicked and disappointed in this turn of events (and with a glass or two of too much rosé in my system), I stood up and excused myself. It wasn’t the most dignified move on my part, but I was caught off guard and totally shocked this man hadn’t mentioned it in the initial few weeks we’d been getting to know each other.
“I’m going to head home,” I explained to everyone before turning to Louis. “We can talk about this in the morning.”
Unfortunately, Louis was flying to Asia the next morning, and I needed a bit of space to determine where I stood on things. After talking to my best friend, I realized this was not something I could continue with and be my best self, so I sent Louis a long note explaining myself, thanking him for being such a lovely person to get to know, and wishing him all the best. If nothing else, I’d made a friend who I really enjoyed the company of and was sad to let that go. Disappointed at the loss, I considered that and moved ahead in my life.
Clearly, Louis felt the same disappointment because as his trip came to an end a few weeks later, he reached out and started chatting with me again, asking me for coffee as friends. By some weird chance, we both accepted things for what they were but still realized we wanted to be in each other's lives, and so a friendship was built.
To this day, I am still called CKP by him and all of his friends – to a point where I don’t think his friends actually know my name is Stefanie. And I’m happy to confirm he’s still a good friend in my world – one who gives me solid advice and accepts me for who I am, even though he’s yet to come in contact with the financially stable, non-student Stef I was before coming here. If he thinks he’s found a partner in crime now who occasionally smokes cigars with him at our fave, the Carnegie Club, he’s going to be pretty shocked when I am floating with an adult job again. Look out, Louis.
Sometimes, while there might not be room for a romantic connection because of personal obligations, we do happen across people who impact our lives in other, meaningful ways. I’m glad to call Louis a close friend, confidant, and the person I go to when I need New York living advice. And I’ll continue to harass him into the foreseeable future. Sorry, not sorry, Louis...