I discovered a new blog today called One Thousand Single Days. A young woman, now divorced with two young sons, who has committed to spending the next 1,000 days to being single.
An excerpt from her blog:
“One thousand days of being single… No men, no dating, no flirting, no kisses, no romantic love, no valentines day, nothing.
I intend to use this time to address some of the issues I have… I am very stubborn… I have shockingly low self esteem, I get jealous, I can get really angry….
I want to learn to be whole.”
Her words touched me. How well I could relate.
My blog is not nearly as well-laid out as hers is. And I barely have any followers. But those things do not matter to me.
My main focus is picking up the pieces of my broken life. And not just simply putting them back together again.
But creating a new picture.
I do not want to go back to the insecure little girl who grew up feeling ugly and different and misunderstood.
I want to create something new. A new life that fits the new me: the me who is alone again, who lost her job. The me who thought she’d found the love of her life, who has now since disappeared.
The me who has two beautiful, sweet little girls who make me realize that each day is a gift, and should never be taken for granted.
I do not have the luxury of being a 27 year old woman who can devote 1,000 days to being single.
Instead I want time and chance, or serendipity, to choose my fate for me.
Serendipity: A “happy accident” or “pleasant surprise”; specifically, the accident of finding something good or useful while not specifically searching for it.
There are no guarantees of tomorrow. Even those who have found love today, are not promised a forever.
The only thing we have control of, is how we view each opportunity presented to us. The man who says he will end up alone, is right. He will end up alone.
The woman who says she will find love again, is right. She will find love again.
The person who sees beauty in the ordinary, will also see the possibility of the future.
Things happen for a reason. That is something I will always believe.
Each experience leads us to a better understanding of ourselves, and presents a new opportunity for tomorrow.
You can’t fast forward to the next chapter of your life without first experiencing the now.
Puzzles are intricate and challenging. But piece by piece a beautiful picture begins to unfold.
It’s impossible to make some pieces fit. So toss them aside and make room for those that will. Something better.
Believe that all things- good and bad- happen for a reason.
* * *
A scene from Serendipity: a man and woman meet. Strangers, both engaged to marry others, who are immediately attracted to one another.
The woman, Sara, decides that if they were meant to be, destiny will bring them together again. Ether now or in the future. They know only a few pieces of information about each other, not including the other’s last name.
They scrawl their full names and telephone numbers on a $5 bill and a used book. Sara believes that if they are destined to be together, one of them will find either the book or five dollar bill by happenstance. But only IF they are meant to be together. Without any contact information, they part ways.
Sara: You don’t have to understand. You just have to have faith.
Jonathan: Faith in what?
* * *
Last spring, my boyfriend planned a trip for us to Colorado. He put it on his credit card. A week later, I went to the bank and withdrew five one hundred dollar bills.
I was happy in love. I recall the five crisp $100 bills. As I sat at my desk one afternoon, I took a black Sharpie and in perfect handwriting I wrote “You” on one, “are” on another, “so” on the third, and finally “SEXY” on the fourth. On the fifth, I wrote his name, “Adam.” I embellished each one with red hearts. Silly, but sweet.
The next day, I gave him the five bills. He smiled and kissed me.
Right before our trip, I discovered that he was still on a dating website. I was devastated.
I told him I could no longer go on the trip with him and one morning before work, I stopped by his house. Without a word, he handed the five $100 bills back to me.
I was upset. Distressed. Beyond hurt.
Later that week, my daughters and I stopped at a Burger King drive-thru.
I reached into my purse and pulled out the folded $100 bills. I hesitated for a moment. Then without a second thought, I handed the teenage boy at the window the one marked “sexy.” It was emblazoned with big red hearts. My daughters, who rarely miss a trick, noticed it and started questioning me.
A minute later, the boy handed me back my change. We drove home.
One by one, I spent all of the $100 bills, saving the one marked “Adam” for last.
As I type, those five $100 bills are all floating around now.
* * *
I’m going to the bank. Maybe today.
I’m going to withdraw $100. Maybe three $20 bills, some tens and fives. Who knows? On a select few, I am going to write…. something. I’m not sure what yet.
Maybe some statement or word that perhaps trigger a memory that only he would know the meaning of.
Then I am going to spend them. All of them.
Not right away, but over the next few weeks or so. At the grocery store. At the mall… I’m not going to plan where. Just where ever.
Will he ever come across one of them again?
When he stops at Best Buy to pick up a new cell phone charger, will the clerk hand him one?
One night when he’s hungry and decides to stop at Taco Bell after work, will he receive one back in his change?
Or maybe some night, when he takes a new girl out on a date, he’ll pay for their drinks. He’ll order a gin and tonic. Or maybe a beer.
No, he’ll definitely want to impress her, so he will order the gin. Or perhaps Scotch on the rocks.
The bartender will hand him his change back. He’ll mindlessly shove the bills into his pocket and go back to his date.
She is pretty. She has a nice smile. At that moment, she is all he will see.
The next day he’ll go about his day. Laundry day will come. Or maybe he’ll decide to wear those same jeans again.
He’ll pull them on. Later, he’ll reach into his pocket. And then. He will see it. On a five dollar bill. Or maybe on a ten.
My handwriting. My words. He’ll see me.
And he will……?
What? I don’t know. Maybe nothing. Or maybe… something.
Corny, I know. But more like close to impossible.
Or maybe not so impossible.
Whatever happens after that…. I choose to let fate decide.
Serendipity or not.