Corinne: This whirlwind romance was no accident

He: You know, you’re welcome at my house anytime.
She: Same.
He: So… you mean I am welcome at your house anytime?
She: Yes.
He: Even tonight?
She: Yes.
He: Like right now?
She: Yes.

This is not movie dialogue. This really happened to me.

The Match

I first matched with Corinne on a Thursday afternoon. At 8:23 p.m., I received this message:

“I’ve been next door at my neighbor’s house for dinner and talk and wine. Love them. Would really enjoy texting or talking for a bit if convenient for you.”

Then she called. When I picked up the phone, I regaled her with what I had done that day, touching on Bruce Springsteen, NPR and my coffee date that afternoon with a 77‑year‑old woman. She graciously tolerated my blather for another 30 minutes before cutting me off — kindly but decisively:

“I want to see your boat. Tomorrow. I’ll bring lunch.”

I said, “That’s exactly what I was about to invite you to do, but I wasn’t confident enough to ask.”

I was impressed with her directness. Her purposefulness. Her intensity.

But I shouldn’t have been surprised. Corinne is an INFJ. I’d seen her type before.

My mind was racing. I couldn’t contain my excitement. Could Corinne be the INFJ I’ve been looking for since my breakup with Tammy? Could she satisfy me in a way that only Tammy had — but without the drama of our misaligned histories?

Eminem looped in my head: “If you had one shot. One opportunity.
To seize everything you ever wanted.
Would you capture it? Or just let it slip?

I resolved to go all‑out.

Preparing for our first date

Our date was set for 2 p.m. I got up at 7:30 and cleaned my boat from stem to stern. I even changed the sheets on my berth — as if anything was going to happen there. Then I drove to Costco for two dozen white roses, seedless red grapes and mozzarella; to the supermarket for a live basil plant for a salad; to Walmart for a cut‑glass rose vase (they sell a beautiful one for under five dollars); and to Trader Joe’s for French Champagne under $15.

Back on the boat, I arranged the flowers, stripped excess leaves, trimmed the stems to fit the vase. I chilled the Champagne. I prepped the salads. I took a shower.

Almost 2 p.m. Everything ready. But I was exhausted — and our date hadn’t even begun. I knew I was overdoing it, but I couldn’t stop myself.

“When the going gets tough, the tough turn pro.” (Hat tip to Hunter S. Thompson.) I put on my game face and walked up the dock to meet Corinne.

She was a vision of loveliness — the memory of her standing there is etched in my mind. I walked her to my boat, where the roses waited alongside a bottle of French Champagne and a bowl of grapes set on a teak cockpit table I had refinished myself with nine coats of marine varnish.

She admired the roses. We drank. We ate. Then she said, “Kiss me.”

So I did. But she didn’t stop.

We were in the cockpit in full view of the marina. I suggested we “get off the front page,” so I led her down below to my berth — thank goodness I had changed the sheets.

Within two hours of her arrival, we became intimate. I had never experienced such passion.

The whirlwind accelerates

After we collected ourselves and the dust settled (so to speak), she invited me to her house. We finished the leftovers from lunch, and then she invited me to spend the night.

The next morning she made breakfast: scrambled eggs, toasted artisan bread slathered with an exotic jam. We both like to hike, so we aimed for my favorite trail — a five‑mile loop through the woods with a near‑constant view of the water. She needed to be home by 5 p.m. for a Zoom call, so we had to move.

We jumped in the car, and I couldn’t stop talking. I was euphoric — nervous and over‑eager. I talked through the entire five‑mile hike. I talked all the way back to her place. We slid into the driveway just before 5.

At this point I was running on fumes: our Thursday call had lasted 2 hours and 22 minutes (I checked). I had barely slept the night before from anticipation. The prep on Friday. The Friday date. Friday night at her house. A five‑mile hike in the summer heat on Saturday. Then the hour drive back for her Zoom. Too much, too fast — but I didn’t want to hit the brakes.

When we arrived, we both needed time alone. Two introverts — an INTJ and an INFJ — need to recharge after prolonged contact with people. We agreed to check in on Sunday, no plans beyond that. I headed back to my boat, took a shower, and settled into my berth.

At 7:30 p.m., my phone rang. It was her. We talked for ninety minutes and agreed to meet for dinner Sunday night.

We met at an outdoor café. Dinner lasted three and a half hours. We watched the sun set. I held her hand.

I told her, “I’m an all‑in kinda guy, and I’m all in on you. I am removing my online dating profiles.”

The restaurant was closing. We were the last to leave. I walked her to her car, and we had this exchange:

He: You know you are welcome at my house anytime.
She: Same.
He: So… you mean I am welcome at your house anytime?
She: Yes.
He: Even tonight?
She: Yes.
He: Like right now?
She: Yes.

So I spent another night with her at her house.

We got up at 7 a.m. Monday morning — she had things to do.

I went home. I took a shower and settled into my berth. We exchanged one perfunctory text about a disputed bill she had to resolve.

Then nothing. Unease crept in.

The inevitable

At 8:09 p.m. on Monday:

“I’ve thought it through all day today and I don’t think we are a match on many levels. You are a lovely person, but not the right person for me. I know you will find your special someone as will I. And I hope we can stay friends.”
— Corinne

This is the way the world ends.
This is the way the world ends.
This is the way the world ends.
Not with a bang but a whimper.
— inspired by T.S. Eliot, The Hollow Men

And in that moment, I felt less like Eliot’s hollow men and merely a broken man.

I sent Corinne the following text, but she did not respond:

“I care about you, and I genuinely want to make you happy. All I ask is that you share whatever’s on your mind — your thoughts, your worries, anything — so we can work through things together.”

“What we have feels rare and full of promise. I’d hate to let something so special slip away before it’s had the chance to grow.”

The only thing I know for sure is that she sensed a misalignment — not unlike mine with Tammy. But in this case, the misalignment Corinne sensed wasn’t about history, but something else.

Both INTJs and INFJs are forward‑looking. They share the same Dominant Cognitive Function: Ni — the power to project into the future and predict outcomes with surprising accuracy. Read more about Dominant Cognitive functions here.

I believe Corinne’s Ni looked ahead at a relationship with me and sensed a misalignment she couldn’t ignore. She acted to protect herself, and to spare me the hurt I might have suffered had I invested more deeply.

I once heard her say it’s better to “rip off the bandaid” — because it hurts less.

Ultimately, she did me a kindness. For which I am grateful.

My Mistakes

Moving Too Fast: My INTJ Pace vs. her INFJ need for reflection
As an INTJ, once I saw the possibility, I raced ahead. I wanted to seize the opportunity with Corinne. But my INTJ speed collided with her INFJ need for reflection. She needed space to process. My rush deprived her of that space, and it cost me.

Ignoring Her Feeling Function
Her auxiliary Fe — her Feeling function — required time and emotional context. Instead of slowing down, I filled the silence with nonstop talking. Instead of checking in, I pressed forward. I mistook intensity for progress, when she needed alignment with her values.

Unresolved Feelings Toward Tammy
INFJs see what no one else sees. INFJs feel what no one else feels. Corinne sensed my unresolved feelings for Tammy even though I never said them aloud. Her INFJ intuition picked up the dissonance between my words and my heart. That shadow followed me into this new connection, and she felt it.

INFJs see what no one else sees

This is their gift, and I underestimated it. Corinne could read between the lines and beneath the surface. She picked up on what I was trying to outrun. I ignored the reality that an INFJ will always detect what remains unsaid. Try as you might, you cannot hide from them — even things you may be hidding from yourself.

The missed opportunity

Looking back, my mistakes cost me the chance to explore what could have been extraordinary. I see now that that my INTJ blind spots prevented me from seeing what her INFJ depth revealed to her.

It reminds me of that Eminem lyric that played in my head before our first date:

“You only get one shot, do not miss your chance…”

And I did miss mine. Not because she wasn’t the right person — but because I failed to create the conditions where she could align with me for the long term.