Fate

Fate

Because in the end, fate wins anyway…

Upon first meeting, you never really pondered it much of a possibility. He looked older than you thought. He was older. Many men have lured you in with their harder looks. The men whose crow’s feet told a dance on the corner of their eyes—men whose hands were sprinkled with age spots. In truth you just wanted him to lay there…silently while you connected the dots. Ultimately, those were the most beautiful things about him. Rustic features.

He showed you things although he could be perceived as incredibly boring. Things you never knew about yourself and about living. Life as uninteresting. Dull, even. But that was fascinating. But what drew you to him most was his spurts of naïve youthfulness.

He turns to me, taps his of glass of aperitiv softly with mine, delivers the entire contents into his mouth.
I take a dainty sip.
“That was inappropriate, no?” he turns to say with a smile.
This humanized him.

He likes music on NPR. Music on NPR—do they even play music on NPR? What could you possibly know about National Public Radio, really?

“So, he likes music on NPR,” you divulge to a friend.
“Really, NPR? I think he was just trying to find an ‘in’ on pulling NPR into conversation.”

As you sat there that night at the New York City Opera, you recognized that if both your ages were added together, you’d still be the youngest people in the audience. This invigorated you. You were always drawn to ‘rocking chair’ conversation. The type that continued for hours, yet was so un-far reaching. Where thoughts were colorful dribbles that led nowhere. The type where, after a few hours, you were merely registering tone, but no meaning, where only the purse of his lips told his emotion.

You liked that he enjoyed you. You weren’t sure quite how much, he never let you in on the intensity when you weren’t together. Still, you like the way he says things, like certain words you hope he’ll pull into a conversation with you because it sounds slightly erotic.

You never really fought for him. It would be too romantic. Like your first kiss, the one that lasted minutes, made your stomach do flips. If you ever did decide to fight for him, it might go as such.

Hey Connor,
How are you? Long time no see. You must be busy. I’m pretty busy, too. And you’re the one that said that you became a lawyer because it would be easy—I know it’s an overplayed joke, but I still smile when I think of that.

I’m writing because that’s just what women do. We write, we rationalize, we overanalyze, we even secretly like this. We also like closure. I enjoyed you. Thank you for making me feel beautiful when we were together. I recognize the circumstances. I’ve done it before, too.

I know I’m younger than you and that you’re probably looking for something else, something more in a woman. You’re looking to learn from someone, not to just teach. It’s respectable and noble. I understand. I don’t want a response. You don’t owe me for it—I don’t expect anything.

I’ve sort of lost myself lately, a quarter-life crisis, if you will, and I’m thankful to many people, but thank you for teaching me—making me remember that there are things out there other than work and my urgent impulses and drives, professional or otherwise. That doing nothing and not discussing anything in particular is pivotal. Thank you for showing me things I’ve shied away from.

This is definitely revealing more than I should, but I'm impulsive, a bit silly and granted I'm still a kid. A lot of times I just write things down but never communicate it through. I did with a friend recently. If I could do this--swallow my pride and shyness and make someone feel as good as he did, then I deserve to keep doing it, at least to redeem me from my bigger missteps! And there are a lot of those, for sure.

You’re a great guy. I know from experience from my best guy friend that “thou shalt never refer to me as ‘nice’ or ‘great.’” Apparently those are not key terms to sell him for dates with my girl friends, so I’ll elaborate just a little bit more.

You always smelled really good. I remember it most clearly from our first kiss in my car, it was deliberate and beautiful. You’re smart, handsome and I couldn’t help but be melt at the way you uttered certain words, too. You deserve all good things in life.

And regarding this letter, I hope that you find it honest and charming, perhaps. I hope it makes you smile and that we can still be friends. I still feel like I have a lot to learn from you, if you’re willing to teach me.
All my best to you, always,
Anna