I woke up one morning to a text message that had come in the middle of the night from someone thinking I was a vet. Their dog was sick and they were looking for help. I responded that I was sorry to report that they had the wrong number and that I couldn’t help, but I hoped their pooch was okay.
Several hours later, I received a kind response, thanking me for my kind response and reporting that they had been to the veterinarian’s and the dog was back in good health. This was followed by a photo of an adorable French bulldog. Which was followed by another photo. And, a few hours later, another.
The barrage was a bit much, but I was charmed by the dog, who was ridiculously cute, and the strange formality yet intimacy of the person writing. “Thank you, you are such a kind person. Now my dog has recovered and I share his smile with you.”
They were so happy that their dog was okay and I couldn’t help but feel happy for them, so I responded with brief bits. “What a cutie!” “Thank goodness he was ok!”
The texts kept coming. I was both wary and intrigued. Who was this insistent stranger and what did they want? But… who doesn’t love puppies? I showed the text thread to my husband and friends, kind of chuckling at the silliness and, by sharing, validating to myself that it was okay to respond to the texts. Just a little kooky, and nothing more.
“It seems that you are also a dog lover. If you don’t mind, I can share with you more about my dog’s life.” Came a text.
“Sure!”
“His name is Lucky, he is 4 years old and has always been with me. In my heart, he is not only my pet but also my family.”
And so the texts went. After a couple days, we started chatting about weekend plans and weather. Pictures of Lucky were peppered in. Then we exchanged names. Theirs was Jamie. Could go either way.
Then we started chatting about books.
“This is awesome. I’m so glad to have met you. This is probably the best encounter God could have arranged. What do you think?”
I laughed out loud, but I was enjoying the book rec’s shared and kept hitting send.
By the fourth day, my reticence had returned. Questions were still polite, but encroaching into personal details. What I did for a living. What I was doing that day. My guard was up so I kept things light.
“Today I am working. What about you?”
Eventually the moment came that made my stomach churn. “I talked to you for so long that I didn’t realize I was talking to such a beautiful lady. I thought we could exchange photos. I don’t know if I will have the honor of seeing your charming face.”
Not that it was a surprise, but it still made me feel gross. They—now confirmed, he—sent a photo. “I’d rather not. I’m married and have enjoyed the lightness of this exchange but don’t see anything more from it.”
“I think it doesn’t matter. At least we should know what the other person looks like. Otherwise, even if we chat for a long time, we won’t know who we are chatting with.”
Of course, it was inevitable. Throughout the whole exchange, I was just waiting for that very moment to arrive. But I was also daring fate not to go there. In this topsy-turvy world of toxicity, I was willing this exchange to be a benign frivolity. I wanted to be pleasantly surprised; to get affirmation that sometimes things are nothing more a simple delight.
I wanted to believe.
I wanted to believe that two strangers could connect by accident and just have a random connection where geography and politics and profession didn’t matter. That I didn’t even need to think about what this other person looked like or thought of me because we were just enjoying each other’s thoughts and the process of sharing those thoughts and having our world a little bit bigger.
There have been several texts from Jamie—again, very simple inquiries after my day and cute pictures of Lucky. But my curiosity and hope have withered. My world is big enough and an accidental text can be just that. No divine intervention, no the-world-works-in-mysterious-ways connection. Just another day and a now deleted text.