So here's the thing: I met Mr. Fallen, and he was nice. And then, once I got here, I met a lot of people, and they were nice, too. They weren't romantic partners (and they didn't let me go), but they were nice. As a result, pretty much all the new people I've met in the last year and a half have been nice. And I think as a result of that I've kind of got used to nice people; I don't really remember how to work with people who aren't nice when you first meet them, or who are very defended. But some people who turn out to be very nice are in fact not nice when you first meet them (one could say this of me, for example), or are very defended (you could have said this of me at one time, for example). Perhaps I should remember to bear that in mind.
So here's another thing: Sometimes fate just gets things wrong. Things that ought to have been are not, or just very nearly are but are not, but if fate had shifted the prism, sometimes even very slightly, they could have been. Fate has had a hiccup, or a momentary glitch in its system.
Or perhaps it's as Robin Williams says in Dead Again: fate is the only cosmic force with a tragic sense of humour. So perhaps it doesn't get it wrong - it just gets it wrong for you. But for fate, chuckling behind its fateful hand, that wrongness is just right.
But these, as Byron would say, are nugae. Such thoughts have nothing to do with my life or what's going on it. Next post: purely biographical discussion.