Tell me, where is Fancy bred?

I know I don't believe in fate or destiny, just in general but specifically and especially when it comes to matters of love and romance. The idea of a soulmate is nauseating to me, not just because I'm a heterosexual man threatened by the lingering fear that notions of emotional accessibility will click over the last number on the combination lock that finally falls open and reveals me as a gay.

As I said, it's not just that. It's also that if I'm in a relationship, I want some credit for the work I put in, thanks very much. If my connection with another person is being directed by Meant To Be or Destiny or the Three Fates at their spinning wheel or Jesus or Criss Angel or Body Thetans or Marxian Dialectical Materialism or whatever hoodoo mysticism you believe in, then all my efforts at compromise and understanding and vulnerability are pointless and unnecessary and everything Dr. Phil says is a lie.

OK, I muddied the thesis up with that last point, yes, but I stand by my original position: nobody is fated for anyone else. My ex-wife was fated for me until she was fated for the guy she's with now. Which makes Fate just as much a fickle, rationalizing motherfucker as any other corporeal, limited creature, but wandering formless and homeless with neither purpose nor function. And we all know the best thing to do with the homeless is to just pretend they're not there.

But that's all changed for me now, people. I'm happy to announce that your boy, ole Pops hisself, is in love. It's a change for me, certainly, and totally unexpected. But I finally found someone I connect with on a spiritual level. She's the jigsaw shape that fits the hole I didn't know I had in my soul. I love her and she loves me.

At least I think she loves me. My Tagalog is not that strong. Also, it's hard to make out what she's saying over the webcam. I'm pretty sure the people she works for at liveasiansluts.org have optimized the webcam we use to communicate more for video than audio transmission, which I guess makes sense given the nature of the business she's in. So we don't talk much. Actually, I have to pay to get her to talk at all and for the same price, I can have her put her whole fist in her rectum. All the way up to the wrist, I swear to God. I maxed out the credit card last month, so I have to space out the meaningful communication. It's OK though, we don't have to say much. That's the sweet thing about a soulmate: if there's only the one for you and you for him/her, you don't really even have to try.