Anthony Paull
It's always an event when Pete decides to pursue a new guy. It can never start off with a typical dinner date, comprised of unfulfilled promise and a movie. No, that's simply too drab for Pete. It wouldn't be interesting enough. Pete would feel less-than-fresh, and who wants to be part of a dull romance when just around the corner waits the possibility of sucking off a "straight" sports star?
Now, I'm not supposed to say anything, but I love you all so I will. Pete had a random, hot, sexy encounter with an NFL player the other night at the club. Eek!
Yes, hot, hot! But still, I've been not-so-kindly advised to change the names, dates and places, because even though Pete prefers to be in the headlines, he fears the coverage might be enough to thwart his efforts at tackling this famous, tight, tight end.
Pete's going to marry this one if it kills him. That's what he confesses to me. They had legendary chemistry, talking for over four hours, where Pete touched on the timely topics of movies and music before touching down on Mr. Touchdown's penis in the parking lot.
Z-I-P! That's how Pete spells love in three letters or less. And right after he felt the package of Mr. Touchdown, he just knew it was the start of a long, blissful union. Forget the fact that Mr. Touchdown is married. "Separated!" Pete corrects, when I inquire about the wife.
"Really? How separated?" I challenge him.
"How would I know? Her Facebook page is private."
"You found her on Facebook?" Paying Pete a house visit, I find him at the dining room table, glaring at her profile pic on his laptop. Clad in a gray business suit, he keeps it rather professional.
"Of course. Wouldn't you?" he asks, in a bothered tone. "I mean, if he and I are destined to be together, I need to know his background, right? After all, it's on the Internet. It's for public consumption."
"Wait, hold on. You think you're destined to be together?"
"Well, we're letting fate decide," he astutely replies.
I know. I know. You're all shaking your heads, going "huh?" But, you see, Mr. Touchdown refused to give Pete his cell phone number after Pete refused to sleep with him. Hence, they haven't seen each other since.
"Let's leave it to fate," Mr. Touchdown said, blowing him off. "If it's meant to be, we'll meet again."
Simple enough, except Pete is more complicated than that. He's no quitter, and he's not about to allow the gods decide his romantic future, particularly when they've spited him in the past. So when he tells me he's letting fate decide, I know him enough to sense he's bound to mask manipulation for predetermination.
"See this house here," Pete states, pointing to his computer screen. He's on Google Maps, where he marvels over a white castle cradled on a creek. "That's his place. You know, it's on my way to work. Nice green lawn. Gated."
"You know where he lives?"
"Well yeah. It's public record," he states. "Anyone could look it up."
"Yeah, but I don't think anyone is looking it up but you."
"Stop!"
"And you're following it up with a drive-by?" I ask, horrified.
"It's on my WAY TO WORK!" he says, defending himself.
"Oh, please. I'm afraid to ask what else you're doing." Fortunately, I don't have to inquire any further. Catholic Pete feels guilty enough to tell me.
It seems he's been on a strict schedule, going back to the scene of the crime, where he had first met Mr. Touchdown, on a daily basis. Alone, he's been waiting on the same barstool, asking the same bartenders if they've seen Mr. Touchdown. He's even given one particular bartender his phone number to call him in case Mr. Touchdown shows up when he's not there.
"That's not fate," I inform Pete. "That's stalking."
"According to who?"
"The court system!"
Still, Pete seems to believe their love is written in the stars, even though he seems to be the one holding the marker. The question is: Should I fault him for it? Sure, he's gone above and beyond reasonable measures in the pursuit of love, but haven't we all done the very same? Don't we all try to purposely place ourselves in the right place at the right time to find Mr. Right?
The only difference here is Mr. Touchdown was never right for Pete – and clearly, that's where this all went wrong. If he were interested, he would have taken Pete's phone number; he would have called. The truth is Mr. Right wants more than one night; he wants every night. If only Pete could see that. If only he'd understand that no one should have to chase their own destiny. That like love, destiny finds us, whether or not we allow it.
