Once upon a time (last June), after meeting online, I started dating this girl (psuedonym "Hailey") that I had an immediate and unprecedented connection with. We hit it off spectacularly, each feeling that said first date had been our best ever (although, to be fair, both of us were fairly new on the dating scene). I joked at the time that it had been like meeting female-me.

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We went on a few more dates, chatted online. Our ambitions, passions, and even our shared experiences were completely synchronous (in too many ways to list). Without going into specifics, she seemed truly special, everything I could want in a girl... and I felt unconflicted, or ready?... in a way I've never felt before or since. And what made it even more surreal? It seemed reciprocal.

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For the first time in my life, I had this overwhelming sense of 'meant to be'. Maybe that sounds idealistic and naive, but my brain opened a door I didn't know existed. Like THIS was the girl I'd been waiting for, been destined to meet, practicing for with every other date I'd ever been on. All hands to battlestations, and NOT a drill.

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Well long story short: during our last date (spoiler alert) I jumped the gun and came on too strong, not knowing that I was. Despite her spending the rest of said date happy (as my new girlfriend, if you want to know what I meant by 'coming on too strong'), and even getting physical-ish at the end (this girl was extremely demure and conservative/Christian — not someone for whom physicality came lightly), she had a claustrophobic personality and backed out via text the next day. A complete 180. Literally the last I ever saw of her in person, she kissed me in the rain on July 4th and agreed to another date.

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I tried to fix things in my confusion (with the romantic intelligence of a teen, because I legitimately hadn't dealt with similar emotions since), and to her credit she responded to my texts in detail rather than just ghost me, but I ended up saying some 'heartfelt' things that backfired spectacularly; she wasn't the touchy-feely type, and thought my reaction had been way too strong given the short time we'd been seeing each other. I conversely thought that going scorched-Earth had been a huge overreaction on her part.

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It hit me hard, and I'm the kind of guy who normally brushes off these things. Never in my life had I felt so sure about something or someone only to be completely blindsided. It didn't help that I began a new job the same week that I began seeing her, and so as a result, throughout every gruelling 12-hour shift I worked for the next 7 goddamn months, I inevitably ruminated upon her (and my mistakes) in some perverse Pavlovian purgatory.

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I contacted her a few times afterward, and was met with anger, then condescending friendliness a month later, then silence when I reached out months later again on her birthday. There were some strange coincidences regarding other women in my life at this time; one notable example was, within 24 hours of texting this girl in August, receiving an almost identical text from another girl I dated (albeit, slightly more sappy and a lot more explicit).

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Around Hailey's birthday in October, the last time I contacted her, I'd planned to give her a gift: something I'd contemplated buying her since our very first date (don't worry, it wasn't too stalkerish, just very punny, Hailey-ish and practical). After hearing nothing back when I texted however, I almost gave up. Fuck it right? Que sera. Let her go.

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But the year passed by, and I was still thinking about her FAR more than I should've been. Even I'll admit that this fixation didn't seem warranted, despite originally perceiving her to be the girl of my dreams. She was just a combination of molecules like every other girl. I'd meet others. But as work reached fever-pitch in the lead-up to Christmas, and I completed the longest work-week of my life — 80 hours of consecutive nightshifts, during which I thought about her more than ever — I felt, very melodramatically, that I had to do something about it or feel romantically congested forever.

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So I started drafting a letter.

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Christmas passed, I procrastinated. New Years came and went. I moved to a different city for work, completely overhauled my life. Around Valentine's Day however, the feeling came slithering back and so I finally finished the goddamn letter, as though exorcising a demon. Not to ask her our directly... just wish her well, explain how I was doing, and warn her that if I ever came back home and single, I'd no doubt ask her out one more time.

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But I deliberated and deliberated over sending it... there's a fine and dubious line between being the persistent-in-love Hollywood hero, and being the "creep" women tell cautionary tales about. So for weeks it sat unsent alongside the gift, packaged and ready. I even rewrote it a few times. The truly pathetic thing? I didn't even know her address. I was just planning to let her know later via text that it was waiting at her local Post Office, half-expecting to be ignored and for all that effort to go to waste.

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I ultimately decided not to send it. I didn't want to be 'that guy'.

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Then, within DAYS, something so serendipitous happened that — despite not being a devout man — I honestly can't fathom it being coincidence. It occurred when I moved into a new rental flat, started looking for a short-term room-mate. One applicant distinguished himself for completely valid reasons, and so I selected him to sign on with me... 3,000 kilometres from home in a new city, co-leasing with a complete stranger.

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He's Facebook friends with Hailey and her entire family. For reference, she has under 100 friends total.

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Just as I'd given up entirely, not even knowing where to send the letter... in a country with dozens of millions of people... I JUST so happened to choose a roommate who knows Hailey's family and who could probably contribute her address. As though the universe sent me someone to help see it through.

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It's the kind of thing that makes me question whether there ARE powers at work after all.

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That said, I'm fully cognizant that such a huge coincidence shouldn't necessarily be taken as a green light. Sending the letter/gift still feels 50%-romantic, 50%-clingy/pathetic/stalkerish (even if I am in a different city). Admittedly she IS the old-fashioned type, but I don't want to cause her undue anxiety or look like a complete loony. I thought about asking the roommate to address the letter confidentially so I never learn where she lives... but even that's a bit iffy. He actually knows the letter's backstory already, just not its recipient: we traded one-that-got-away stories when he saw me rewriting it, before I knew his affiliation.

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So should I confide in the roommate and send this letter? Should I take this coincidence as a sign? Should I follow up on what feels like the missed romantic opportunity of a lifetime, and what might become one of my most illogical regrets?