A chance encounter. A fateful event. Something to indicate that we (whoever that other part of we is) are destined to be. Is that crazy?
Don't answer that.
A friend of mine jokes that I am like the character Sara Thomas in the movie Serendipity. She is all like, Felicia, the stars have to align and the heavens open as sign that he (whoever that he is) is the one. Ok, really? I get her point. I am not so delusional as to think the stars will literally align and the sun shine down on the forehead of my intended but I do have to admit, I want a little magic.
I used to be really bad at the Lord-is-this-a-sign-itis. I would literally, mid-conversation- stare intently at a guy and ask – Lord is he the one. I am sure all of those guys thought I was crazy. lol Maybe I am a little bit. I mean, I was a smart kid. I paid attention in school. Completed my MBA – yada, yada, and the yada. So, I am capable of learning. Yet, no one has ever taught me how to date. I truly suck at it. I always, always, always get my signals crossed. If I project friendship, I get love letters. If I project interest, I get the "you're the bomb.com" line from Just Wright.
I blame my mother! lol Isn't easy just to blame our parent(s). I distinctly remember a guy that would come by and visit me when I was like fifteen or something. It was so very benign. We would sit on my front porch and chat. Well, one day my mom was out there and this guy gets the courage to ask my mom if he could take me to the movies. To which, my mom replies, "I don't think she is ready for that." Point. Blank. Period.
I was MORTIFIED. So much so that I told him he should probably stop coming around. Overreacted much? You betcha. I have always been a bit emotional but the guy I did end up with, never asked her squat. He just would sneak around when she was at work.
Parents, smh.
Fast forward today and I am still mentally on that porch waiting. Wow, that was like the saddest line I have ever written, lol. I have to get off of the stupid porch, for heavens sake! But, how? Be more practical, I guess.
I am not saying that I am growing cynical; maybe a little more, dare I say it, practical. Even as I type this, I still hope – just a bit – for a little magic.