Before the taking of a toast and tea

I wrote this in April 2007...

I've never fallen victim to the concept of fate, but lately i've been having some undeniably i heart huckabees moments. Or maybe it's just because I finished reading the unbearable lightness of being today and I can't get his six little fortuities out of my head, regardless it's been quite the couple of weeks.

Chance 1: It's been a long day. I get on the el at Harrision, ipod blaring and bust out my book. At Washington, an attractive boy sits down next to me, pulls out the same book, same specially released edition cover and all. We both notice, ipod off, make witty banter, until he tells me I look familiar. I scrutinize, exchange names, turns out we dated briefly in high school. He's matured, different hair, beard, grown into a handsome jawline, but the eyes are the same. He was the first boy I let get to second base. My first summer romance.

Chance 2: Pulls the whole we should catch up sometime card that we both know will never go anywhere. I ask what the big plans are for the rest of the night just making small talk, he's meeting up with his band. Talk talk. Dylan is in his band. We both know him through completely different people. Now I'm in on the plans. We get a bottle of wine, go back to his apartment to catch up, and then spend the rest of the night laughing with our mutual friends.

Chance 3: Today I got a text from him, wants to meet up for drinks but I have plans. I got off work early today so I went across the street to the lake to read. Brought T.S. Eliot because I'm trying to expand my literary horizons and embrace poetry. Open to The Wasteland, first line: April is the cruellest month. During our wine talky, we wondered where the phrase originated. Two minutes later, he runs past me.

So either i'm reading into things, the universe is bringing us together or I have a stalker.
___________
Update, July 2008

A couple of days ago, I was parking on my street in a rather large spot. Turn off the car, start collecting my things, when BAM some fuck who pulls in behind me smacks into my bumper. Hard. BAM. Again. Murder death kill. The spot is too small you stupid fuck! I get out, two steps closer to whiplash, and there he is, big shit eating grin plastered across his face.

Well, well, well. Of all the bumpers in all the world you had to slam into mine.

Talk talk catch up. "Did you get my note?" "Huh?"

And it all becomes clear. "Let's have a ball." Are. you. fucking. kidding. me?

Turns out, he went with his friend to view the apartment above mine. The current renter looked earlier in the day and signed the lease for the 15th later that night. Woulda called but didn't have my number anymore.

And now, here he is, in the middle of my fucking street, having since moved one street over. We share an alley.