Many years ago, I went to see a psychic, just for fun. I’m a skeptic, but she told me several true things about my life up until that point, and made several predictions. Over the next few months, each of her predictions for the near future came through. The last was aimed at the distant future.
Her name was Maria and she was getting ready to retire. She wasn’t what I envisioned a psychic to be. There was no pretense of having some mystical sight, not one candle burning, or crystals hanging from the ceiling. She was soft-spoken and motherly.
She pointed out the initials of two men I’d cared for and how they hurt me. She picked up on the fact that I hated my job, but predicted I’d soon have a better one, until I was betrayed by someone I trusted, but that I would then find a better job that would pay less, but be long term. Nailed it. I was a VIP Concierge at a Rosen hotel and despised it. I got an interview for an apartment leasing position, and was hired by the district manager. He sold me on how impressive my resume was and how great a fit I was, even going so far as to tell me that raises didn’t happen for a year after hiring, but he’d do his best to get me an increase after three months. He was charming and I believed every word he said. Every time he was in the office, he had kind things to say about me.
After three months and pulling them through a difficult audit, the assistant manager let me know I’d only been hired to work the audit and that I was no longer needed. Not even the manager – I was fired by the assistant manager. When I reached out to the district manager who’d lied to me from the start, he refused to reply.
I was desperate, so I registered with a temp agency and was immediately placed in an office where I remained for 11 years. Two and a half years in, I was hired full time, and the pay increases kept coming, bringing quarterly bonuses with them. She made a few other predictions that quickly proved correct, but the final one meant a wait.
She’d predicted that I would find an extraordinary love, the kind you pretty much only see in movies. She said it would happen when I was older, but “not 40.” I always assumed this meant before 40. When I turned 40 last year, I was disappointed, but then I realized she only said “not 40.”
I turned 41 yesterday. By the beginning of this coming January, I’ll start attempting online dating. I’m awkward, weird, sick, and not very social. I have unresolved daddy issues and low self-esteem. I’m a catch. My lovable weirdo is out there somewhere.