An Open Letter To Timing

Dear Timing,

Oh all powerful, all knowing Timing, why must you insist on being so wrong? I mean, sure, sometimes you are right, like the timing on the various dishes in my Thanksgiving feast, or the the timing of Melissa McCarthy’s one-liners in “Bridesmaids.” But those are examples of timing we can control; my beef is with you when I don’t have any.

For example, when I have birthday money to spend and there’s nothing in stores that catches my eye. Or Expedia offering cheap flights to Europe during a week when I seriously cannot get away. Or getting bad news after more bad news after more bad news. Or getting a particular heavy period while on a surfing vacation in Costa Rica. Why, Timing, why? Do you hate me?

But there is no more painful example of you, Timing, being wrong than in the area of love. Because when it comes to love, timing is everything in that everything else can be right, but without you being right too, everything else just isn’t enough.

Goddamn damn you, Timing, but it really is so rude! Like when I was 18, and I fell totally head over heels with my dad’s boss’s son and he was seven years older and we could have had something totally amazing if only those feelings had kicked in a little later, after I got some experience kissing boys and losing my virginity and taming my hair. But noooooooo, I had to love him then, when I wasn’t yet secure in my womanhood, when I could only pant over him like a pathetic puppy dog. Oh, Timing, thanks to you, I could never grow up in his eyes after that!

But that pales in comparison to your antics recently, Timing, which is why I am writing this open letter. You are such a tease in that you are very good at bringing wonderful people into my life just when I need them. Like him. At first, he arrived as a work acquaintance, someone with whom I connected on a professional level. And it grew into a friendship that never appeared to be more because we were both with other people. And it grew some more and deepened and suddenly, at the same time, we were both available.

Timing, I want to compliment you, because you were so right then. Our friendship grew because of you and I appreciate that. I don’t mean to be ungrateful. But there is more than friendship between he and I, we both know it, but like the bitch that you are, Timing, you (with the aid of your second cousin, Distance) are making that hard to pursue. You have dangled him in front of me, Timing, all wonderful, and kind, and handsome, and tall, and smart, and now it’s like you’re suddenly a security guard at a museum, yelling, “HEY LADY, NO TOUCHING THE PERFECT GUY FOR YOU! ONLY LOOKING FROM AFAR!” It’s sadistic, really.

So, what to do, Timing? You’re the one in charge, it seems. Unless you plan on having Ryan Gosling and I cross paths in the near future, there isn’t anyone more right for me that I can see. Can you? I’m open, seriously, to whoever you might put in my path, but if you don’t put anyone else, or anyone else who doesn’t pale in comparison to him, does that mean you’re going to be right someday? I am confused, Timing, about your motivations and am unsure of how to proceed.

If you could respond in some way, via email, text, letter, phone call, carrier pigeon, or just by being suddenly right, I would appreciate it.

Yours truly,