You should probably read Stares By The Stairs before reading this post, but if you haven’t, I’ll give you a brief synopsis. I ran into Cal the Cop randomly in a NYC train station shortly after discussing him over dinner. He offered me a ride, but I declined because I had a boyfriend.
A few days after the encounter, my boyfriend and I broke up (NOT BECAUSE OF THIS, but because he was a terrible boyfriend and did not live up to any of the promises he made me about becoming “official”).
Cal the Cop texted me a couple days later, asking how I was.
“Actually, I’m dead,” I replied.
“What?” he asked, confused.
“Well, you never did text me to see if I was okay as you watched me drunkenly stumble down the train steps and take the train home at midnight all by my tiny self. So I ended up dying and you’re now speaking to me from the beyond.”
“Jen, to be perfectly honest, I didn’t think you’d want me to text you.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because of the way you looked at me.”
“And how did I look at you?”
“Like I mattered.”
I stared at the phone for a solid minute. Did this kid honestly believe that he didn’t matter to me?
“Well, I guess I was just shocked that I ran into you amongst millions of people in a New York City train station. I believe in fate and, if that’s not it, I don’t know what is.”
“Well, everyone runs into me there,” he wrote back casually.
My jaw dropped in horror.
“I see. So I guess it wasn’t fate, after all. Thanks for clarifying.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” he wrote back, I assume in a failed attempt to be charming.
I was so disgusted with him at this point that I texted back, “I’m gonna go with ‘Not'” and didn’t bother with him again. Unnnntil I randomly ran into him in another state. But let’s not call it “fate.” Wouldn’t wanna NOT be an asshole.
Read more about that in How Many Times Can You Really Let One Person Break Your Heart?
Have you ever thought that something was fate and had someone completely make you feel like a fool when they told you it wasn’t?