This Isn't Fate

[This is the finished product that was started back in November. You can read that part here.]

No, I don’t believe in fate.

The idea that I’m not in control of my life is unsettling so I choose not to believe it.

Some people believe that everything happens for a reason, that whatever happened was meant to happen. I think that is bullshit. There are too many variables in life for everything to have a reason for happening. Sometimes stuff happens for no goddamn good reason.

There was this one summer night years ago in Provo. It was the first time I was ever really bold. My two friends and I went to see my one friend’s brother’s band play at a local eatery. The guitarist was cute and I was feeling invincible. I took out a business card I had made one night when I was bored. I wrote the guitarist’s name and then something clever on the back and dropped it in the open guitar case with a few bucks. Then I walked out as cool as I could.

He called me later that night. We had a nice talk. My phone got crappy service in my bedroom so I wandered outside in my front yard. We talked and got to know each other. We found out he had graduated with my brother and he pretty much hated his guts. We bonded over those mutual feelings. He asked me out and we planned on that Friday.

It wasn’t the worst date in my life. That honor goes to a blind date who got arrested for fighting in a parking lot at Trafalga. But it was still rather lousy. I mean, the date was fine but he took me home 40 minutes after he picked me up. He made some bullshit excuse about having to work early the next morning. I never heard from him again. I felt stupid and insecure. He couldn’t even last an hour before he lost interest in me. I quickly tried to forget that night and for a few years, I succeeded.

Flash forward a few years. I am again living in Provo after going to school in Cedar City for about four years. I am confident, independent, and completely depressed. I was having a rough go at finding my place in Provo. But I started writing for the Review, a choice that might have saved my life in the long run. My editor was a nice attractive guy. One day, in the halls of the LA building, we stood chatting about how small the world is in Utah County. We discovered we both went to Timpview High. When he said what year he graduated, I said my brother graduated that year. He asked my brother’s name and I told him. Suddenly, we exchanged looks of recognition. This was him, the guy whom I tried so hard to forget, the guy who had embarrassed me with a 40 minute date. We both knew who each other were and there was no going back. After what seemed like forever, he finally said, “I know you.” I said something back, but what it was is forgotten. I made an excuse to leave and did so quickly.

Why did it have to be him? Of all the people that I could have been forced to reconnect with, why him? Just thinking back to that stupid night years previously made me feel stupid, depressed, insignificant, insecure, and lonely all over again. Why did I have to re-meet him? He could have stayed just an unpleasant memory and never thought of again.


No, I don’t believe in fate.
But sometimes, I think God can be an asshole.

Love you.
Mean it.