I stepped into the shower one morning a few months before Arron died and had this profound sense that I would eventually be with another man. Curly hair, an architect. Not sure why those specifics. It rocked me to my core. I stood in the shower crying. Arron was unhappy with his job, thus with life in general, thus with me. It had been a difficult spring, that spring nine years ago. It was the very first time in our entire marriage that I had ever even thought about divorce. I had never once been attracted to another man, could not imagine ever being without Arron. But for the first time, I wondered if maybe Arron was going to divorce me.
This premonition was profound. It stuck with me for days, like a bad dream. I walked around in a funk, a strange sick feeling in my stomach. But after a while the feeling faded and Arron got his new job and we ultimately had a happy Labour Day Weekend that summer in Quebec, after an unspoken reconciliation. It turned out to be our last.
For nine years, I have imagined meeting the curly haired architect, often chastising myself thinking I was being silly. I’ve had a relationship with four men in that time, all of them wonderful, but ultimately not right for one reason or another.
Last week I met a curly haired architect (I kid you not) for the first time after corresponding by email for three weeks. He found me on Match. Still early days, but there is a smile on my face…
Are we really all this connected?