Did I ever tell you about that guy who I know but I shouldn’t
know who doesn’t know me, and who I don’t really know I just know way more about him than I should by no fault of
mine or anyone else? And who, if I ever actually met him in person, would
probably call the cops and report me as a stalker? No? Well, have a seat.
It all started one splendid fall evening back in 201l when I
was invited to go to a Bible study churchy thingy-ma-jigger for young adults
out of town in the middle of nowhere of the U.S.of A. So I went. It was a
pretty night with a full moon shining brightly above the trees. My fanny-pack
zipper glistened in the light of it and the stars shone upon my white leggings
making me one of them. (Don’t worry, I was wearing shorts too.) My pig-tail
braids completed the effect and gave me the full confidence while walking into
the building that… “Aw dang it! That guy’s
attractive!” I thought. He was very much attractive in
some sort of olive-green vest. I had never seen him before, neither had my
friend, and I didn’t expect to see him again. I left without meeting him.
Anticlimactic.
And then…
About a week later, I was looking at the Facebook page of a
small-group-ish thing I had been attending when I noticed the profile picture
of one of the members. An attractive young man…“Wait…what?” It was him. The
same dude. I discovered his name which was a bit unusual, but I liked it. I
hadn’t seen him at the small group and never did after that. I didn’t know him
so I didn’t friend request him.
Anticlimactic.
And then…
A few weeks later, my friends asked me to go swing dancing
with them one night at some swing dancing club of sorts. So I went. For the
first time, I wore my totally flattering black gaucho pants. Back in elementary school when they were popular, I begged
my mom for them and she refused to buy me any. So I ordered myself a pair as an adult, and
wore them when everyone wished I wouldn’t. As I stood there in line, feeling
that stretchy material cling to my butt while the rest of it floated around my
legs, I was totally confident that the dazzling whirling of my pants would...“Aw
CRAP!” And there that man was again. I
didn’t know how to dance. At all. He clearly did, and he looked quite snazzy in
his button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up…well his arms were a little
hairy. Not a little, a lot. That’s the night my friends started teasing me
about “monkey man” which is what they decided to nickname him behind his back.
But I’d forgive him the hair for that angelic face. That nose; what a nice nose.
It was apparently the custom to line up with all backs to the
walls, men on one side of the room and women on the other side. The men would
come and ask the women to dance. At one point, that guy stood directly across the
room from me and made eye contact. I thought he was going to come to me. I
sensed it; I freaked out! I shifted nervously and looked away and didn’t look back.
It probably appeared like I was going to cry or have a panic attack. I sighed
in relief when he didn’t pick me, though with a tiny prick of disappointment. Needless
to say, he didn’t ask me to dance at all that night, though I did catch him looking
at me a couple times. I also never talked to him…
Anticlimactic.
And then…
The next day, at the last minute, my friends told me that
they had a couple extra tickets to the local symphony. It was assigned seating.
I decided, why not? I brought my 9-year-old
sister with me, and I met them there. It was dark when we walked in but we
managed to find our seats, though we sat a couple seats to the left because someone
was in our spot. In between songs, my friends came and sat with us since not
all the seats even further left were full. One of my friends then turned my attention to one of the seats
right in front of me. I looked more closely. No way. It was him. That’s utterly ridiculous, I thought. But, of course, I wasn’t too annoyed…
until she directed my attention to his date. Lame. Eventually the
performance ended, and the lights turned on. He seemed to recognize us because
on the way out, he shook our hands (or high fived us, I don’t exactly remember),
smiled, and made his way out.
Anticlimactic.
And then…
I moved to Canada for school at the end of that month. A
year later, while still in Canada, I decided to create an E-Harmony (a dating
site, in case you didn’t know) account for my own curiosity’s sake. I didn’t pay
any money so I couldn’t actually communicate with anyone or see their picture,
but they still matched me with people. At first I had the distance settings for
close proximity to where I lived in Canada. Not generating many results, I
changed the settings for all over the United States and Canada just to see what
would happen. The first name to pop up was a more unique and interesting one
that I rather liked. By this point, I had totally forgotten about that hot guy
I had kept running into. It was the distant past. So I scrolled through the
names as they appeared and read different profiles. I noticed that the guy with
the interesting name lived near where I had lived before moving. I started to
read more…swing-dancing…and then it all clicked! No FREAKING WAY!! There was just no way…
I went back to Facebook and looked up the guy. The unique first
name and a few mutual friends made it easy to find him. I compared what info I could.
Without a picture, there was no way I could say for sure…but I’m pretty sure, almost positive, in fact, pretty positive
it was the guy. Considering the size of the area compared to the ethnic
population percentages, the rarity of the name, the sameness of information… it
had to be the guy. I laughed like a maniac. Out of two whole countries of men
to choose from, they chose that guy?!
I mean the coincidences just astounded me! I didn’t even tell E-Harmony I was
American or that I had lived in that area! But of course, without a
subscription, there would be no talking to him. So I forgot about him again.
Anticlimactic.
And then…
Today. Looking through my newsfeed on Facebook, I came across
a photography page connected to someone I know, clicked on the link, only to be led to a wedding photo of…who? You guessed it! So I was left here pondering all the “what ifs” and all the ridiculously crazy
coincidences and trying to understand why.
Nothing new for me, of course.
Anticlimactic.
And then…
For once in my life, rather than ridiculously worrying about
the fact that I might have just ruined my “destiny” (in the moments when I want
to believe in that) by letting my potential soul-mate just totally slip through my fingers, and wondering why there were so
many coincidences if it wasn’t meant to lead anywhere, I decided just to continue
to laugh like I already had been anyway. It’s just enough to laugh. It’s just
funny. These things add flavor to life. They make life interesting. It gave me
a fun story to tell. That’s not so anticlimactic. For me, anyway.
With my luck, that mysteriously not so mysterious man is
going to read this post and comment, and I’ll be uberly embarrassed. Bring it.
It’ll add to the story. Though he probably won’t know if it’s about him. If he
does, I apologize if he didn’t want to admit to his friends that he had an
E-Harmony account. Is that where you met your wife? Psh, why would you have an
E-Harmony account anyway? You’re so young and attractive…I mean, that's for old people who strike out...right? I wouldn't do it...hehehe. And also sorry for the
nick-name made up by my friends. But don’t worry, I’m sure your wife thinks you’re
hot. This is where I say a hearty congrats to the man I accidentally stalked
and still don’t know, and who probably doesn’t remember that I exist.
Congratulations, man! Truly! Perhaps I’ll see you again one day? Coincidentally?
No comments:
Post a Comment