How I Met Your Mother, My Best Friend, My Ex, and Everyone Else.
How I Met Your Mother, which, to be honest, has gone on for about 5 seasons too long, is the story about how hopeless romantic Ted Mosby finds the love of his life. It interweaves back and forth about the million different tiny little things that leads him to the right girl, and too often goes on tangents that have little with advancing the main plot. When I first watched the show, I thought it was a cute little conceit, and mentally applauded the ingenuity.
However, somewhere along the road, I thought about it a little bit, and realized that literally every one of your non-familial relationships can be attributed to a myriad number of variables that happen by pure chance. In a way, it’s comforting, but in another it’s fairly terrifying. I think the main fear is that you somehow missed out on something by making the choices that you made, but I think that’s foolish too. At the end of the day, all of our lives are the product of our decisions and random chance. We can try to quantify that chance, try to explain it or influence it in some way, but at the end of the day, it’s just chance.
Blind, dumb, stupid luck. I could meet the love of my life jogging in Central Park, or I could as easily bump into her as I’m waiting for my food at McDonalds. A lot of things in life you have to put in work to get what you want out of it, and that’s a good thing. Once you’re in a relationship you have to work at it, it just doesn’t come naturally, and I understand that, but you can’t work at meeting someone. I guess you can troll online dating sites and count that as work, but I don’t think that’s anyone’s idea of working hard to find someone. I don’t like leaving these things up to chance but I think a part of growing up is knowing when to work hard and when to know your limitations. But still, I can’t help but have the feeling that too much of this is left to chance. It’s the difference of a split second, a wayward glance, an impulse, and that could be all the difference.
It’s poetic, and I think at the end of the day you can either be scared by it, or choose to be hopeful about it.
Or be like me, and treat it with an equal mix of both.