So I was waiting in the Boston Logan Airport today for my flight to Minnesota, and had the following conversation with the woman sitting next to me:
“I’m sorry, do you know if I should be boarding yet?” she asked.
“Uh, I don’t know, what boarding group are you in?” I asked, because, as much as I may tell men in bars, I am not actually a psychic. We determined that she was not boarding yet, and that she was sorry for being so distracted. I said I didn’t mind. Lull.
“I’m going to see an old flame,” she confided. This woman had to be at least 45 years old, though she could have been 55. I really can’t tell women’s ages past 16 or so. She wasn’t bad-looking, in any case; her eyes were quite expressive, which I always thinks makes people more attractive because at least I don’t need to guess how they’re feeling. And the joy!
“I haven’t spoken to him in 20 years, and he looked me up–it’s so strange, we both got married, then he got divorced and I got divorced, and so he called me and we got around to finding out we’re both single, and here I am, flying across the country to see him!”
“Wow, that is awesome,” I said, thankful I didn’t need to make insincere small talk. This woman was totally badass.
“I’ve never done anything this adventurous before,” she said, “I don’t even know what he looks like!”
“I’m sure you’ll recognize each other,” I said.
“Yes, yes, I’m sure we will.” God, she couldn’t keep the smile off of her face. Then her boarding group was called and she wished me happy holidays.
Surely, this was a freak occurrence–not just the fact that this man looked up this woman after so many years apart, but they both happened to be single, and she decided to fly across these here United States to spend a few days with him before Christmas.
“Well, you know that happened to your Aunt Lorinda and Uncle Dwayne,” my mom said.
“Ahem, gah-what?” was roughly my reply.
“Yeah, they were high school sweethearts. Then Lorinda’s mom moved the family to Florida, and they didn’t see each other for years. Then Lorinda moved back here, and married her first husband. Well, that didn’t work out. Then she married her second husband, and that didn’t really work out, either. She was visiting her mom in Florida, and Dwayne had moved down there for a job. I don’t know if they bumped into each other or what, but they reunited, and now they’re married.”
So, besides pointing out my obvious ignorance of family history (“Yes, Mom, I’m listening…uh huh, yeah, Grandma was the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic…uh huh…listen, I have to, uh, feed my cat…”), this just proves my theory that my family will always fulfill that 1/1,000,000 chance. In any category, really, except the fun ones, like winning every lottery in the state on the same day, or getting struck by lightning 5 times.
But then I found this:
Dr. Kalish found that reunions with former boyfriends or girlfriends were common in all age groups. Two-thirds of the participants had reunited with their first loves from when they were 17 years old or younger. Their success rate for staying together was 78%. For the overall sample, the staying together rate was 72%.
Apparently, Dr. Nancy Kalish, a psychologist, did a survey of 1001 people from all over the world who had rekindled with lost loves. And, for the most part, they ended up going really well. One resounding response was that the sex was great, and many of the respondents reported feeling a deep, soulmate-like bond with their lost love. [http://www.suite101.com/article.cfm/romance_retired/5030]
Well, I’ll be damned. I wish nothing but the best for that cross-country divorcee with enough pluck to frighten a flock of seagulls.