What do San Angelo, Texas and Estipona in Spain have in common?

Absolutely nothing. Nada. And they really don't.

Wanna bet? You won't believe this story...I still can't believe it:

I wrote The Book of Love as a result of meeting the most extraordinary woman I have ever met. Not only was she stunningly beautiful, but extremely intelligent, complex, funny, and possessed of a natural wisdom that was enveloping. The love of my life; my muse.

There was an immediate connection when we met in London in 1994, and after our first night together we knew we belonged together, even if she did live in Spain. Love would conquer all. She didn't want to leave Spain...I would move there to be with her. I would do anything to be with her because we BELONGED together. Written in the stars...all that stuff. There was also an almost scary amount of magical coincidence that surrounded us...way beyond statistical explanation that was inexorably pointing us to each other. I immediately fell completely in love with her and am to this day, though we haven't seen each other since May 1995.

She disappeared and didn't want me to contact her...for reasons too complex to go into here. But in every breath I take, she is there within me, and has been since that very first day I met her.

Last January I undertook a book tour of the southwest and the south from Phoenix to Tampa to promote The Book of Love, appearing on radio and TV stations all across the country, ahead of Valentine's Day. In preparing for the tour, I purchased Bacon's TV and radio directory for $400, which are two phone-book sized compendiums of every media outlet in the country, and the relevant personnel and addresses and phone numbers. An invaluable resource. I would go through Phoenix, Albequerque, El Paso, San Antonio, Houston, New Orleans, Orlando, Tampa, Atlanta, Nashville, Memphis, Oklahoma City, Amarillo, and Santa Fe.

I got out the book and started thumbing through the pages to call the various stations in the markets I would I hit. In looking up the San Antonio pages in the Texas section, the first listing on the first San Antonio page was KLST. I called them up and spoke to a friendly producer who loved the concept of the book (a man's book and a woman's book with two front covers that read upside and backwards to each other meeting in the middle) and said they would love to have me as the featured guest on the noontime women's show. I would be there on Tuesday and they would put me on. I then asked where in San Antonio they were, and the girl said, "Oh Paul, we're not in San Antonio, we're in San Angelo!" I quickly covered my gaffe and said, "Of course, slip of the tongue." Where the hell was San Angelo? I madly looked at my map of the US and saw San Angelo was between El Paso and San Antonio and a bit north. A bit out of the way, but they were so nice I would go.

A bit out of the way???? Ha! I was looking at a very small Texas...it was 300 miles out of the way! Iforgot just how BIG Texas was! So what, I agreed to be there, I would be there at the appointed time.

Have you ever driven across west Texas? I'm sorry, Texans, but the road to San Angelo from Fort Stockton goes through the most dreary countryside I have ever seen in America. I was beginning to dread San Angelo. I just wanted to get it done and get out of there.

I arrived at the station, did the interview, said my thanks, and left to head for San Antonio. As I was driving out of the parking lot, I paused for a lone car coming down the street and automatically checked my mirrors. The receptionist was running towards me waving her arms. I rolled down the window and she called, "Paul! There's a phone call for you!"

I parked the car and went into reception to pick up the phone. "Is this Paul?" and elderly female said.

"Yes, this is Paul."

"Paul, my name is Mirl. I'm eighty-nine. I just saw you on the TV and I felt compelled to call you."

"Thank you, Mirl."

"I never watch this show, and have never called a television station in my life....but I happened upon the show today and heard you mention a girl in Spain, is that correct?"

"Yes, Mirl. Her name is Jasmine and she inspired The Book of Love."

"And she lives in Spain?"

"Yes."

"And she's English, did you say?"

"No, she's Flemish and lives in Spain, but I met her in England when I lived there."

"My sister-in-law lives in Spain. She's English."

"Oh?" I wondered where this conversation was going.

"Yes, my brother died last year...they lived there for 25 years."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Mirl."

Then she made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, "Have you heard of a place in Spain called the Costa del Sol?"

Jasmine lived in the Costa del Sol.

"Yes-s-s-s-s-s-s," I said, completely spooked.

"My sister-in-law lives there...in a small town called....Estipona."

I froze. When I flew to see Jasmine, she was living in Granada in Spain, but her best friends lived in Estipona, and the last time I saw her, we stayed with them in Estipona. Jasmine NOW works there. Her best friend grew up in San Francisco and I used to see her playing in front of her house when I was delivering liquor in high school (just one of many coincidences surrounding us---real magic).

"That's where Jasmine lives!" I gulped.

"Paul, something very strange is going on here."

Was there ever. The receptionist needed the phone back, so I told Mirl I would call her from San Antonio. She gave me her number and said, "I'll be waiting for your call."

When I called Mirl and told her all about Jasmine and all the magic that surrounded us and THEN told her how I had never planned to go to San Angelo in the first place, but made a mistake in the listings, compounded with Mirl never watching the show but happening to catch it and then feeling a compulsion to call me---something she would never do and never did---she said, 'Paul, this is getting a bit too scary for me. Something is going on here...and I don't think I want to pursue it anymore now."

We agreed I would call her once I got back to LA in three weeks. In the meantime, Mirl would write to Val, her sister-in-law and tell her what had just happened.

I called Mirl as soon I arrived back in LA. I asked if she had written to Val and she said, "No, I didn't, Paul....you, know, one thing and another."

"Oh," I said, disappointed.

"But I received a letter from Val, oddly enough!"

"You did?"

"Yes, isn't that strange? She always calls me. And what's even stranger, Paul, is that she put her email address in the letter! Now why do you think she would do that? I don't have a computer, and wouldn't know what to with it if I did. You have a computer, though, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Would you like her email address?"

So, I wrote to Val and told her the story. Val wrote back and said she knew Jasmine's best friends and that Jasmine's friend was godmother to Val's grandchildren!!!!! Val would go see Jasmine...she knew the place where Jasmine worked.

Val eventually saw Jasmine...but sadly, Jasmine was very cool with her and really wasn't interested in what she had to say.

So, even with all those magical signs, it's certainly possible to turn your back on them...but to your peril, I fear. Why would something like this happen? For nothing? I don't think so.

Always follow your heart.

Still, pretty amazing, don't you think?