Wednesday, August 26, 2009
The Fickle Finger Of Fate
The other day, my trainer Raj told me about a few recent dating mishaps with his new love interest.
Date one ended in his parents interrupting their goodnight kiss, while date #2 found him in a brawl defending her from the advances of some brutish men. Raj’s date suggested that all of the drama was fate’s way of saying they’re not meant for each other.
As he shared this, I couldn’t help thinking about the fickle finger of fate – and the role it’s played in my own love life.
I’m a believer in signs, especially when it comes to make or break decisions about romance. Recently, I was on the fence about continuing to date hunky cop Rich, largely because of opposite schedules and (very) different emotional styles. After an intense two-hour phone conversation, he told me to sleep on it. Upon later discovering that Rich had logged into Match.com within an hour of our heart to heart, I knew for sure it was time to call it quits.
At the other end of the spectrum, I’ve experienced how the hand of fate can make romance happen against all odds. For me, there’s been no greater example of this than my ill-fated love affair with California-based Mark (a.k.a. Sparky).
A confluence of events led to our unlikely meeting back in ‘94. Knowing we were fans of “NYPD Blue,” a family friend invited us to watch the show filming in the East Village -- an invite that arrived while I was home from college on spring break. I happened to visit the set just a few days before Sparky headed back to L.A., and the rest, as they say, is history.
Though neither Rich nor Sparky turned out to be Mr. Right, they both reinforced my belief that every significant other crosses your path for a reason. If you’re lucky, each partner teaches you something -- whether it’s about yourself, or about what you want (and don’t want) in a partner.
That’s the thing about fate -- it‘s usually a lot smarter than we give it credit for.