People love hashgocha pratis stories. I'm no different. Those moments when almost-missed connections collide—ooooh, shivers!
However grand those tales are, the best ones are romantic in nature, right? Yeah, sure, an ill woman ends up sharing the same row on a plane with the top doctor in her specific ailment who also ends up being her cousin's long-lost son is cool, but it's when a kind boy and a sweet girl miraculously meet that gets us sigh-y. Am I right, ladies?
But I learned—the hard way—and I still have to be reminded—the hard way—not to be so swayed. Because when I work myself up into a frenzy of "it's bashert!," the resulting disillusion is crushing.
Rosemary Counter was also taken in ("A Craigslist 'Missed Connection' Lure"). It's frighteningly simple how the mind, tired of disappointing the heart, finally allows fantasy to cloud logic.
One can have that "it's bashert!" story. But retroactively so, I've learned, is the best way.