The interloper

It was a complete accident that my husband and I ever met.

I found him on a dating site, where I checked out his profile quickly before immediately surfing away. (As if the merest glance from my IP address were too bold.)

The next day, he noticed me and sent a message. One message led to two, which led to a phone call, and then a date, and we were married a year later.

I was open about my faith from the start. He’d identified as Catholic, and so I shared that, though I was an atheist, I was raised Catholic and had much affection for the songs and ceremonies of the Mass. As the weeks passed, we talked about our respective faith journeys. They couldn’t possibly have been more different.

Which is around the time he said:

So, how did you show up on my page, anyway?

Which is an awfully confusing question. How did I what, now?

I was filtering my results by religion. I was looking for a Catholic, and you were listed as an atheist. I don’t understand how you showed up.

We joked about my subversive atheist skills, like some sort of religious ninja, but in actuality, that quick glance from my IP gave me away. He saw I’d looked at his profile, and that particular page didn’t contain any filters. So, he saw me.

Totally by accident.

He took it as evidence of God’s hand in our lives. I took it as good fortune. But it didn’t matter. Not one bit.

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