Our lives are preordained, our paths already chosen... I don't, or didn't believe in it.
I am young, desperate for a waiteressing job. I phoned various restaurants and arranged a drop off of my CV. There was one little restaurant / coffee shop I had in mind, as an ideal. I still cannot remember why I was so hell bent on working there, perhaps it was the proximity to our house, perhaps the working hours... I contacted them and requested to speak to the owner or manager. After I had told my story and requested that I drop off my CV, he declined. I took a trip to the restaurant anyway and spoke to the owner. Today, I don't remember his face, all that I remember was the unpleasant exchange, throwing my CV on his reception counter, and fuming all the way to the bus stop. I kept telling myself over and over again that he was an arse, it had nothing to do with me.
About a year after the above exchange, a friend at work, introduced me to his father. A pleasant man, whom I was instantly attracted to. Our age difference, my history, and his recent divorce, seemed to constantly put obstacles in our path. After denying our attraction for months, he kissed me... I kissed him back it was electric. But still, life seemed determined to pull us apart. From family, to financial problems, we stuck it out, we loved each other, fiercely, passionately. There were times we felt like packing it in, but somehow, something, always pulled us closer, when those dark times were thrust on us.
10 years on, last week.
My husband and I were sitting in bed, chatting about decisions people make, and how it changes our lives. How one decision changes the people we meet, our personalities, our very existence.
Husband: I wonder why I sold my restaurant?
Me: You had a restaurant?
Hubby: Yes, when I got divorced and moved down here. I needed to do something I'd never done before. I bought a restaurant, had it for a few months and then felt I needed to sell it.
Me: Oh, which restaurant was it?
Hubby: That little bistro at shopping centre xyz, the one under the escalator, it was called B.
Me: You're the arse!!!!!!
Me: I applied for a job with you. You told me to get poked and I threw my CV at you!
Hubby: You were the hot blonde? I wanted you even then.
Hubby: You're still hot and I still want you.
Me: You're still an arse.
We lay there in the dark, and I wondered how it was that we met back then. Why I was so determined to work at that particular restaurant. How my husband was given to me not once, but twice...