I murdered Vera Rivkin

When one meets a man worth blogging about, I suppose there's nothing else to do. Seeing as how I can't stop repeating the fateful story of Mr. Mysterious-So-and-So, I might as well get it out.

It's really not as interesting as it may seem. Except, of course, for the fact that I can't forget him. Attractive, young, and more interested in my son than me. My twitterpated little heart could contain itself all but for an embarassingly silly, and painfully wide, grin. My expression screamed with all blood that ran to my face, "Please ask me for my phone number!" He just kept talking to Richie, furthering my interest. Richie babbled back, an unusual act. If it hadn't seemed strange, even borderline crazy, I might have pinched myself. Instead I made a much smarter choice, I stared. I fully believe in the intuition of children. Absolute innocence lends itself, if to nothing else, than to alert of the slightest bit of evil. I know, evil is such a strong word; in times such as these is it that inappropriate? Richie's detection system sounded no alarm.

I did nothing to perpetuate any sort of future contact. I welcome this blissful memory into oblivion. I do not want to end up feeling so cold that I refuse the warm presence of another person. Yet, I am not willing to begin something I'm not ready to even think of. It is simply refreshing to know the possibility survives, when Nathan can not find the daddy desire for his own son. It's not that I believe the whole fate gimmick to be "real", but what more fitting name to such coincidence? You see, I met Mr. Mysterious-So-and-So while in San Antonio picking up Richie's new crib from Babies "R" Us. Richie needed a new crib because of the previously owned Jardine crib spraining his leg.

Like I said, fate.

It's a pretty idea anyway. Except that when you consider the true nature of "fate" it actually resembles more of a twisted conspiracy. Was Richie doomed to hurt his leg? Even before that, did I maintain the injury by purchasing a defective crib? Or was all this already set in motion the day I got pregnant? After all, babies need cribs. Although, Richie spent months in his crib with no injury at all. Is fate powerful enough to cause physical changes to a piece of wooden furniture? Maybe this began even before that.

Paranoia disguised as such a pretty conspiracy.

I take a peek, now and then, at a snapshot of this life. I look back at the carelessness and the ease with which I offered my heart, to find it twice broken. Everyone I know has a different story. No shock value there. I don't see the big picture as much as moments. They all have their moments. Of course, when the commodity is love and the price is forever, I find my scrutiny falling upon the married. Which happens to be all of my friends; married with children. I could have been like them. I could have married Nathan. I still can't blame him. All my expectations dissolved when I refused his proposal. I assumed so much when I made my choice. Am I smarter since the divorce or just sad? Sadder. It's impossible to say if I made the right choice. All it takes is a kind stranger and I sit alone at night to question a past I can not change.