Noun: the hidden power believed to control what will happen in the future; fate.
I have a mild obsession with cactus plants. After matching on Tinder, he initiated conversation with 'Nice cactus', obviously catching my interest. The comment was directed towards one of my photos which included myself in an awkward pose and a cactus. More than excited to be approached with words other than hi, I immediately responded and we bantered back and forth for a few days. He was cute and interesting and we shared a love for grilled cheese and gelato (from Italy). But as we all know, I was not (very) serious about dating and there was that huge issue with the hives and nervousness, so I prolonged the progression of the relationship with no end in sight. He ultimately (officially) asked me out with the date six days away so as to omit an excuse of prior plans; of course that didn't stop me.

We didn't speak for the next week until he suddenly messaged me the morning of the "meeting" with a haste cancellation. I was confused and thought he was weird to say the least, but I apologized for my disappearance and blamed it on being busy (which wasn't totally a lie). We messaged a little, I went to Vegas and we no longer spoke.
Some weeks later my best friend, who was a mutual friend of ours on Facebook, literally bumped into him on the street one evening. As they were old acquaintances, she joined him and his friends for a drink where she was exposed to some missing pieces of the puzzle. His unexpected withdrawal from our date occurred after he had pursued me on social media and somehow found lesingleblog; this practically screamed his name.
As confused as I was as to how he discovered my secret identity, I didn't care. I hadn't said anything bad per say. So I admitted to lying about being busy, I actually only insulted myself. However, my ego was obviously bruised from being "dumped" because I managed this post out of pure adrenaline. The next day my best friend called me, he's reading your blog stop writing about him. Now I was perturbed. Who was this guy and why was he stalking me? Throughout all my frustrations my friend sided with him always reiterating that he was a really nice guy.
I put a halt to using him as blog material and life went on.
Until one night, while chilling at my friends place before going out, I noted a guilty look on her face as she continued to message someone on her phone. She then admitted that she invited him to come. I don't think I was actually bothered. He now knew my secrets (from the blog); meeting with a dark noisy background accompanied by some liquid courage wouldn't be so bad. Except he never showed. So I drunk texted him at three AM.
His response came the next morning, as did my sober regret. He suggested we make up the missed meeting by hanging out that day. I promised him that I actually had plans but questioned why he still wanted to meet me. His response: I have patience when I think it's worth it.

Three hundred and sixty-five days later and that man continues to be my amazing boyfriend. When it's meant to be, it always is.

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