Every so often I feel like breaking up with The Universe. And I know this is a dangerous thing to say with a property contract due to settle on Friday, but this week is shaping up to be one of those weeks.
When I talk about 'The Universe' I mean that cosmic force which seems to swim around our lives, putting us in in the right place at the right time. At least when it's not busy smacking us around when we get to big for our boots or we're not doing what's best for ourselves and others. Maybe it's God, maybe it's the fundamental interconnectedness of all things. I don't know. But it's usually what I blame whenever I fall over awkwardly in public.
I have fallen over awkwardly in public twice in the last three weeks, each time with significant injury. I've glimpsed my future, and feel certain it will involve a hip replacement. And while I am willing to concede that the most recent fall is probably due to a combination of liquor, frustration and wet weather, that first fall? Clearly the unmistakeable work of The Universe.
A couple of weeks ago I had an unplanned, but not unwelcome encounter with a gentlemanly stranger. This particular chap did not have plans to remain in the city (or the country) and one thing lead to another. It was a very pleasant encounter and he scored 3 out of 5 on the Graeme Scale. I gave him my number hoping he might call again and saw him off. Shortly afterwards I discovered his passport on my bedroom floor. "Thank goodness I gave him my number" I smiled at myself, all while thinking – yes! I might get another shag out of this one!! (repeat shags continue to remain elusive to me, despite my best efforts).
He called, popped by to get his passport, and it was awkward. Really awkward. I'm not sure I've ever had a more awkward encounter. After this disappointment, I told myself never to think of him again. Out of sight, out of mind. Ha. As if that ever works.
A couple of nights later I popped into my local Coles to grab some quick dinner-type things. As I wandered into the shop I indulged in a brief fantasy wherein I bumped into the gentlemanly stranger, we got to talking, and stole off into the evening together. Well. Who do you suppose I spied in one of the checkout queues almost immediately?
I turned bright red at the sight of him, spun on my heel and ran off to bury myself in the fruit section. The Universe threw me a bone, and I freaked out and hid among the fresh produce.
Somewhere amidst my total tizz, I managed to buy some groceries and wander back down to the car park, where in my distraction I promptly fell over and twisted my ankle. I had to spend the next day working from home, straped and iced. Fortunately, I still had plenty of injury management apparatus left over from last year.
But wait, it gets better.
There were a few car tears on the way home, mostly from pain and embarrassment, but also from a little bit of hopelessness. So who do you think walked passed my apartment block just as I pulled up the car? And who do you suppose froze and stared down at her bloodied knee until he walked past her?
When people ask me why I'm still single and in my more honest moments I try and explain that I'm just not very good at the whole relationship thing, this is the sort of thing I'm talking about.
I'm the girl, who after months of complaining about never meeting eligible men, one is finally thrown in her path and she freaks out so badly she falls over and sprains her ankle.
And don't even get me started on the recently sprained elbow rendering me unable to use a computer, crochet or make obscene hand gestures.
The problem with fighting The Universe is that The Universe always wins, and you just get stuck with an ice pack.