Another WordPress Prompt about a weird coincidence.
Some couples bond over shared taste in music, or a mutual hatred of raisins. My person and I bond over parking spots. Specifically: our unexplainable, borderline-conspiratorial ability to park within two spots of each other, at completely different times, having told no one our plans, like two magnets who also enjoy going to the movies.
It started on our second date, a date that, in retrospect, had main character’s energy baked in from the jump. The mall had blocked off my usual spot for some event, so I got exiled to the far reaches of a different lot, somewhere in the metaphysical vicinity of Bass Pro Shop. Mildly annoyed, I parked, walked in, and found my late-because-he-hates-previews soon-to-be boyfriend. We settled on watching “The Woman King” on the second date, trying to feel each other out, but we didn’t finish. Because some idiot discharged his gun in the food court by accident. Security evacuated the mall due to the gunshots, which ended the movie early. I want to be clear that was genuinely terrifying, and not something to make light of, and my heart still goes out to anyone who has lived through more horrible, deadly shootings.
My son-to-be boyfriend stayed by my side and made sure I got to my car. He left to find his car once I told him I saw my car and was safe. It was very sweet and checked the chivalrous box for me. Amid the chaos and the evacuation, something almost comical happened: note that we arrived at the theater at different times, and we never saw each other’s car after the first date. We met at a mutual location. We discovered we were in the same row, two spots apart. The only thing standing between his car and mine was a stranger’s Honda that had already pulled off once he went to look for his car.
I was sitting there eating a multigrain croissant like a raccoon who’d found a snack. I felt a pair of eyes on me, so I looked around, and he was looking at me. I rolled down my windows, crumbs from the croissant falling from my lips. He asked, “Why do you have croissants in your car?” and honestly, sir, why wouldn’t I? I am always on the go. I laughed at the irony of how he ended up in the same row at Arundel Mills. He asked if I was hungry, and I nodded yes. The croissant wasn’t going to cut it. Well, do you want to go to this Mexican restaurant, away from the madness? I smiled and said yeah. We wove through the chaotic traffic as people evacuated the mall. We ended up at a Mexican restaurant, margaritas in hand, laughing about how our second date somehow included a national tragedy narrowly avoided. We found out that someone accidentally discharged their weapon in the mall, still scary. As he told it, he learned the origin story of my love for a good baked good. I enjoyed the conversation, and thought to myself, he would be nice to date. (My intuition was right; we are three years in and counting.)
Fast forward to Sunday night, we decided to see Spider-Man. We met up at the theater; I arrived first, and he arrived later. After the movie, we walked to the parking lot. He offered to drive me to my car. I pointed straight ahead; as usual, we were parked two rows behind me, like the universe always wants us in the same zip code of a parking lot. We didn’t plan it. We never plan it. It just… happens every time.
I don’t know what force is at play here magnetism, fate, or the fact that we’re both drawn to whatever’s closest to the mall entrance- but I’ve decided not to question it. I’m just going to keep quietly tracking our dating anniversary (don’t tell him), keep bringing weird snacks into my car, and keep trusting that wherever I park, my person’s car will show up nearby, like it always does.
Some people believe in horoscopes. I believe in parking lots.
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