About a week ago my former college roommate reminded me of a pact we made back when we were 19: If we’re not married by the time we’re 32, we’ll marry one another. It seemed so far off in that tiny lofted room, now, with no prospects in sight, it’s become something to think about. Not that we’ll marry each other, but the cold hard truth that we should have found something worth holding onto by now or at least we thought we would have. Neither one of us is a bon(ne) vivant, we’re serial monogamists: once we’re in, we’re in (but yes, it does take me a bit longer to hunker down, especially  when something seems too good to be true [and yes, as it turned out it was too good, some people throw the word love around like a frisbee, tossing it to the person who'll catch it the quickest and just stand there, but not necessarily the mediocre, but unwavering teammate who might foul a few times in the first round, but will score the most points in the end]).

I remembered that moment so well, a number we both agreed to because secretly we were certain we’d find love by then. What I forgot about that evening was the preamble that came before it–the part where we move to Canada first. I have no idea why we decided on Canada, and the irony of that choice is more pervasive than it was years ago, but there it was, my destiny staring back at me through a text message. Things have a funny way of connecting as you move through life, making me wonder if you can ever escape your fate?

Driving home from the reading and thinking about my friendly reminder, Radiohead permeated my stereo speakers from a mix that was made for my birthday, “ I’ve been thinking about you/So how can you sleep/These people aren’t your friends/They’re paid to kiss your feet/They don’t know what I know/And why should you care/When I’m not there/Been thinking about you/And there’s no rest/Should I still love you?/Still see you in bed/But I’m playing with myself/What do you care/When I’m not there./All the things you’ve got/That you’ll never need/All the things you’ve got/I’ve bled and I’d bleed to please you… honey.” As though it was predicted all along, my lot was sealed by a promise and a song. I’d wind up in Canada via graduate school or a youthful vow…but not because of love…