You've Got a Match

You’ve Got a Match

Do you have someone you can turn to for help and support? Do you believe someone can help make your wishes come true? Do you trust someone for guidance? I believe in invisible support systems. God is the supreme being, guiding and protecting those who believe. Angels act as God’s agents, offering personal advice. Wishing stars symbolize hope and the power of fate.

Over the past two years, my life has unravelled in ways that shook my faith in a higher power. The emotional toll of a divorce from a narcissistic marriage, combined with the weight of deeper depression that etched itself into my body, and the unpredictable illness of multiple sclerosis. After each blow, I cried out, “Why me, God?” I pleaded with the Angels to help me stay strong enough to guide my daughters through life. I whispered wishes to the stars, “Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are…please don’t let this disease get worse.” But no matter who I turned to, no one seemed to answer.

It was Monday, May 20, 2013, Victoria Day, but honestly, I had always known this holiday as the May Long Weekend. I spent the day working on my master’s project, since it was just seven short weeks until I had to present it at the university.

“Ping,” my computer rang. I configured my work Gmail, personal Gmail, and Hotmail accounts to iCloud so that I could access all my emails using any of my three Apple devices.

The subject read, “You’ve Got a Match.”

“Oh God,” I said, rolling my eyes. About nine months ago, I was home alone, enjoying a wine dinner, when the charming commercial “Match” appeared on my TV.

The dating options where I lived were limited due to the small population on the island, and the business I worked for wasn’t exactly a local favourite.

I chose to write a description of myself and my ideal partner. Then, “Shabnam” Match promised to find my perfect match.

Before hitting send, I promised myself, “No visitors on the Island.” My home was my sanctuary, the one place where the weight of my mental and physical restraints remained unseen. By keeping this space private, I could maintain a healthy, successful image.

I checked my email.

"Hey, Heather.

99.9% match. How could this possibly go wrong?

Todd"

I giggled, tapping my toes against the floor. This bold, one-sentence email perfectly captured the confident, outgoing person I claimed to be searching for on Match.

I clicked the link straight to Todd’s profile right away.

Todd’s picture captivated me with its quiet intensity. Only one photo adorned his page, yet it spoke volumes. The taut skin stretched across his defined features. His jaw was strong, and his cheek muscles were finely tensed. He wore black sunglasses and a cap, obscuring his eyes and forehead. However, a subtle smile played at the corners of his lips. The image’s rose-gold hue evoked an almost nostalgic feeling. His firm, muscular shoulders filled the frame, quietly attesting to his strength.

I scrolled down to his description of who he was and what he was looking for in a partner.

Proud dad of two amazing teens (a boy and a girl). I run a drywall business in the Okanagan and enjoy spending time outdoors, including golfing, playing baseball, or camping. I’m looking for someone kind, caring, independent, and outgoing - someone who enjoys good company and great conversation.

After an hour of typing, erasing, and then retyping, I crafted the perfect response.

"Hey Todd,

99.9%? That’s quite the confidence level. Do you believe Match has genuinely fulfilled its promise of connecting soulmates? Do you wonder what’s lurking in that elusive 0.1%? A hidden love for reality TV? I enjoy reality TV, so we might just be 100% compatible.

A father, business owner, sports fan, and camper? Solid credentials.

Although I often use sarcasm, I am a compassionate woman with a kind soul who values the power of words to reveal one’s character.

I look forward to chatting with you again.

Heather"

“Send.” I grabbed the pillow on the couch, covered my face and squealed with a belly full of excitement. “99.9%, how could this go wrong?”

Over the next three weeks, Todd and I spent hours texting and talking on the phone—endless conversations filled with curiosity and genuine interest. We weren’t just talking; we were perceiving and appreciating each other. The connection was instant, as if we had known each other for a lifetime.

Todd was amazing. Listening, he pursued me. Affection, playtime, and laughter: he consistently provided all three. He cherished his family and welcomed mine. What we shared felt incredible and unexpected.

But I had a secret. Sure, I had been honest, open, and transparent about myself, but I hadn’t revealed all of myself to Todd. I needed to tell him the truth. I needed to say to him, “I have bipolar disorder and multiple sclerosis.”

The text took me hours to write, detailing the severity of my illnesses and my active management plans. I offered him the opportunity to “Walk away from us now,” even though our time together had brought me pure joy.

As I stared at the message I’d just sent, “There’s no way he’ll choose me,” I thought.

“Ping,” the phone rang. It was a message from Match. I clicked the open button to read what Todd had said. My chin dropped to my chest; my vision blurred as a tear slid down my cheek.

“This doesn’t faze me in the least. I’m here for you, ready to support you in any way I can.”

I placed my hand over my mouth, holding back my shock. “He didn’t say no.” A breathless laugh escaped me.

My heartfelt words revealed my physical and emotional vulnerability. Yet, once again, with just two simple sentences, Todd showed me I mattered—he proved he was still there with his arms wide open. Was this extraordinary man a true gift from God?

My best friend, Jamie, was getting married, and I was to be her maid of honour. She was hosting an intimate family gathering in her backyard. Even though I couldn’t be there for dress shopping or fittings, I was always available for emotional support. On her wedding day, I’d be right by her side, helping her into her dress, arranging her train during the ceremony, and holding her bouquet during the vows. I’d ensure her glass was never empty, calm her nerves, and then give a loving toast at the reception.

It just so happened that Jamie was hosting her wedding forty-five minutes away from where Todd lived. The wedding would be the first event I planned to show the world that I had found the man of my dreams. Although it would be amazing to share my handsome beau, Todd, I needed to spend time with him in person first. Even though it felt as if we had been dating each other for years, we still hadn’t met.

It was June 5, 2013. I experienced flu symptoms, including fever, chills, and joint pain in my left leg. The cut I had on my inner thigh while shaving appeared warm and red around the area.

The board meeting, scheduled for that day at 5:00 pm, would only last two hours, and I had two projects requiring board approval. Let’s say those were the two most extended hours of my life.

“Meeting adjourned,” said the Boar President.

I grabbed my purse and told my assistant that I needed her to close the office. I reached my car and started driving towards the hospital.

“Help,” I whimpered. The tears in my eyes began rolling down my cheeks. “The pain in my leg is excruciating.”

Rushed to the emergency room, a group of nurses assessed my vital signs: pulse, respiratory rate, blood pressure, and temperature. They drew blood for tests, began IV fluids, and assisted me in changing into a hospital gown.

I can’t recall how it unfolded, but an infection developed in the small razor cut on my inner thigh.

“You have Methicillin-Resistant Staphylococcus Aureus or MRSA. It is a type of bacteria that is resistant to many antibiotics, which makes infections difficult to treat. It has caused a fairly severe skin infection around your cut. We are flying you to Prince Rupert Hospital for surgery. We will return you here for treatment with IV and oral medication.”

I shook my head, acknowledging that I had heard and agreed with his answer.

“Can you please pass me my phone?” I asked the nurse.

Lying on my side, tucked under a warm blanket, I began my routine list of phone calls. Except this time, the first person I was going to talk to was my emotional counterpart, Todd.

“Hey, babe, how did your meeting go?”

“I’m at the hospital,” I said. My voice shrilled, uncontrolled.

“What? What’s going on?”

“A razor cut on my inner thigh developed into an antibiotic-resistant infection. Surgery is necessary to remove it, followed by high-dose medication.”

“I’m flying up there.”

“No, not yet,” I mumbled. “My future location is still unclear; I will let you know when I find out more.”

I turned off my phone and lay in bed, curling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. A battle raged within me—self-pity and depression were warring for control. But this time, there was something different. A third presence entered the fight. It was a quiet strength that softened the edges of my despair. Todd’s deep and steady voice wrapped around me like a shield, carrying the warmth and protection I could sense in every part of my being.

Jamie’s wedding was still a week away. I was confident that the strong medication the doctor had prescribed would address the MRSA in time for me to fly out. However, my confidence began to wane. Like my other health conditions, the MRSA bacteria attacking my body were resistant to the antibiotics I was taking to combat them. Each day passed, and my chances of attending Jamie’s wedding decreased.

Five short days before the wedding, the doctor entered my room and said, “Heather, the blood test we did this morning shows that the antibiotic medication isn’t working. We plan to increase your current dosage and add another antibiotic. We will then repeat the blood test in one week.”

Honestly, I didn’t catch the specifics the doctor was conveying. All I perceived was that the earliest I could leave the hospital would be two days after Jamie’s wedding.

The overwhelming shock and sorrow seeped into my body, causing the slow shaking of my head to become broader and quicker as the news sank in. The hurt I felt in my heart mirrored the pain I knew my words would inflict on Jamie just five days before her wedding.

“It is not a problem, Heath. Just keep me posted. I love you,” Jamie said, affirming that our genuine friendship outweighed a minor blip in our shared memories.

The next day, I intended to support Jamie on her wedding day, keeping my promise despite my absence. I started searching for a way to get closer to her, to show her how deeply I loved her; she was my person.

“A bracelet with each of our initials and the infinity sign would be perfect,” I thought.

To meet the wedding in three days, someone needs to create and deliver this magical bracelet within 48 hours. The first and only person who came to mind was Todd. Even though we had never met in person, Todd made me feel safe. He gave me the strength to be strong through vulnerability.

By the end of the day, Todd had created an exact duplicate of my description. Its elegance and simplicity were ready for pick-up the following day.

“Oh my God, thank you,” I said, tears streaming down my face.

My words fell short of conveying the depth of my gratitude. My gift to Jamie was ensuring she had her “Person” with her on her wedding day.

At 4:00 p.m. the next day, Todd delivered the bracelet to Jamie’s house; it was in a light pink square box with a white bow. I sat by my phone, waiting for Todd’s confirmation text to let me know that everything had gone well. Twenty minutes passed before Jamie messaged me.

"Oh, my goodness, Heather, thank you for the bracelet. I absolutely LOVE IT. I will wear it tomorrow to keep you close to me throughout everything. I will miss having you here in person, but I know I will feel you standing beside me.

Todd is amazing! He’s here enjoying a couple of drinks and chatting with everyone. He likes you, Heather. Don’t let this one slip away.

I love you so much."

Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to regain control of my emotions. The gift I shared with Jamie was the deep affection I needed to express. More importantly, I sat on my bed with a giant, silly grin and glowing red cheeks. A radiant halo appeared in my thoughts as I re-examined my beliefs. “Is Todd an Angel?” His gentle cues encouraged me to experience positive emotions, even when negativity had previously dominated my thoughts. He fostered my positive feelings of reassurance, making me feel supported and protected. Was this a feeling of love?

The antibiotic was effective—it was reducing the bacteria. The infection around my surgical wound was getting better. However, with my weakened immune system, my body struggled to eliminate the remaining bacteria and repair the damaged tissue.

After three long weeks, the nurse walked in with an unusual expression on her face. This time, instead of an apology, she smiled and said the words I had been longing to hear: “Today is your day. You get to go home.”

There were just seven short days remaining until I defended my master’s, and only ten long days until Todd and I could meet in person. However, Todd had a different perspective. “I’m flying up to see you tomorrow. You need to take it easy before your presentation.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. Had my “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” wishes used their power to find me a man who possesses the whimsical, charming, and supportive qualities I’d been yearning for?

It was Friday afternoon. I had fantasized about this moment countless times. I pictured his appearance, his voice, and the sensation of his touch. And now, after weeks in the hospital, after feeling so weak and alone, he was here.

“Knock, knock, knock.” The sound made my stomach flutter with nerves.

I swallowed and opened the door. Todd stood there, his backpack slung over one shoulder. His green eyes scanned my face as if he were trying to memorize every detail. He was taller and broader than I had expected, and his presence seemed to drain the air out of the space between us. His chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths, and for the first time, I noticed it—he was just as nervous as I was.

“Hi.” His voice was soft and filled with affection.

I attempted to respond, but my vocal cords were on strike. Instead, I reached for him. He dropped his bag, closing the distance between us, his arms wrapping around me as if he’d been waiting his entire life for this.

“Hi,” I managed to say, my voice muffled against his chest.

The smell of his cologne was invigorating and heightened all my senses. His hands glided over my back, as if he were confirming my physical presence for himself.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I whispered.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands cupping my face. His thumb brushed my cheek, and I felt my entire body aroused. My heart was racing, my brain was short-circuiting, and my stomach was doing things it had no business doing.

“I can’t believe it took so long,” Todd said.

His lips parted, and I glimpsed everything for a moment—relief, desire, something more profound. The weight of every conversation, every late-night call, every moment spent waiting. And then our lips met.

A gift was granted to me: an all-powerful being that guided, protected, and embraced me. It could have been God, an angel, a wishing star, or perhaps I was finally bestowed with all three.