Purple Reign
| Coincidence level: 3/10 Category: Funning / charming / cute |
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Once I very briefly dated a Swedish judge. She was impossibly beautiful, with auburn hair, and had been working as a judge in Stockholm at a young age — in her late 20s. An odd thing for Americans to fathom, but not particularly outrageous for Swedes.
We met in New York while she was doing an international law degree at NYU, and we’d have scenic dates like a late night stroll across the Williamsburg bridge after a sultry cocktail bar in the Lower East, and lavish French brunches in the West Village followed by a public makeout session in Washington Square Park.
We spoke of many topics — she came from a family of doctors — so she was well-versed in academia and esoteric topics, but we also spoke of scuba diving, climate change, homeless people, and travel. She had a wry sense of humor, quick-witted, and she understood subtleties far too keenly.
Being out with her was like being seen with a nice Mercedes — I don’t mean this in an objectifying kind of way, but in terms of her understated classiness, her sheen, her lustrousness.
She was also very particular. A conversation would go something like this:
Me: “How is Swedish law different than American law?”
Her: “There’s more leeway in American law.”
Me: “What does that mean?”
Her: “The kind of evidence that’s accepted, permissible. In Sweden judges filter through all that first, but in the US the jury sees a lot more, even things that may be insignificant.”
Me: “But isn’t that the point, for the jury to see as much as possible so they can make a decision?”
Her, deadpan: “It’s the judge’s job to make the decision.”
I digress, because none of the above is actually important to the story at all, just amusing.
But what was meta was that I told her about the incident in Sweden — the strange tattoo coincidence.
I showed her a photo I took crossing from Södermalm to Östermalm, and she pointed at a building in the photo and said, “That would’ve been the building I was working in at the time you were there. We were so close then and never met.”
She pressed on about coincidences, asking me to tell her a story on the spot about something that happened that very same week, since they happened so often.
I wracked my brain for a second. “Okay, I thought of something!”
I told her the story of how just the day prior, it was my friend Jana’s birthday. Jana was obsessed with Prince, the artist. And for her birthday, I’d bought her a magazine with him on the cover. Jana had been obsessed with Prince since the first time I met her, in fact, years back.
The very same day that I was on that first date with the Swedish judge, I had sent Jana a video of my ex dressing up as Prince for a pre-Halloween party.
It was a cute little coincidence.
Part 3 of that was on actual Halloween, NY Mag published an article about Prince’s favorite film — that it was Waking Life, also my favorite film. Isabella had shared it with me.
Last but not least, in terms of how oddly prevalent Prince was in my life, somehow randomly, years back, my high school class’ senior graduation theme was “Purple Reign,” a play on Purple Rain, and it had been voted on by the whole class. We celebrated with pep rallies and Homecoming decorations around this theme, school bleachers and all decorated in purple.
. . .