Everyone starts in the gutter. The mistake is leaving.

The first bowl went straight into the gutter.

So did the second.

And the third.

This was followed by the kind of laughter that isn’t cruel but also isn’t particularly sympathetic.

Years later, they still tell that story.

It comes up every time they’re together.

At dinners.

At birthdays.

At a noisy Spanish restaurant, five years on, with partners at the table and empty plates everywhere.

The lady who bowled those three magnificent gutter balls laughs the hardest.

Not because she was good.

Because she stayed.

That’s how moments are made.

Not through talent.

Through attendance.

What People Expect To Happen (And What Actually Does)

Most people assume that if something is going to matter, it should feel meaningful early.