Your Intuition Guided you Here - Part 1

 I didn’t see this coming.

My intuition said YES the whole time.

And trust me, I checked in often.

The first thing I ever said to the tall, like, 6-foot-8 tall dark, handsome guy was:

“Mate, you look like you think you’re a pretty cool guy. Whatever.” 😂

I was a young Aussie overseas, retreating from normality and maybe from the patterns that had kept me stuck for years.

Maybe a little distance could gift me a different perspective. Some understanding of why I felt so broken, and why bad shit seemed to keep happening in my life.

Apparently, my opening line was enough to get his attention.

What I discovered later was that it was probably as different to him as the accent coming out of my mouth.

And let me be clear: it was NOT a pick-up line.

I could practically feel the arrogance seeping into the space between us, and my immediate reaction was basically:

Yeah, nah. I know your type.

Still, I’d obviously caught his attention.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“No,” I said. “I’ve got one.”

He tried again.

“Come in and sit down. My friend just bought this bar and the previous owner is clearing out tonight - including the bar.”

I shrugged.

I’d just finished a long shift at the pub next door. I had nowhere particularly important to be.

One of the dancers had brought in her dog - a Border Collie.

My family had a Border Collie back home in Australia. She was old, and after almost a year in Canada, I was worried she might not still be this side of the veil by the time I got home.

So obviously the dog softened me.

“Yeah, I s’pose. I don’t have anything else to do.”

The truth was, I’d literally rocked up to this town I’d never even heard of - Penticton, British Columbia, because I’d seen posters for it around some of the hostels I’d stayed in.

Why Penticton?

No bloody idea.

It just felt right.

A few years earlier, I’d discovered my intuition.

I’d started learning what right felt like in my body and, equally, the sensation I got when I knew I wasn’t on track.

“What brings you to town?” Tall Guy asked.

I’m sitting there with a stink face, thinking, I know this kind of smooth talker. I know exactly what you’re about.

So I answered:

“My intuition brought me here.”

HA!

Got ya, I thought.

Surely that level of woo-woo would send any self-respecting jock sprinting straight back to the bimbo circle.

Instead, he grinned.

“Your intuition guided you here to meet me.”

My rye and Coke nearly projectile-launched through my nose.

“That’s hilarious.”

I left him sitting there, got up and went to mingle.

I’d met the old owner and some of his staff during the week, so I wandered off to chat with them.

Somehow, by the end of the night, Tall Guy had resurfaced in front of me.

To be fair, at 6 foot 8, he was fairly hard to lose.

“Why aren’t you taking Big Boobs over there home?” I asked. “I saw you talking to her.”

He shrugged.

“Too boring.”

Eventually, the party wrapped up.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said.

I looked at him.

“Dude. I didn’t come down in the last shower. No funny business. I can walk myself home.”

“No funny business,” he promised. “I just need to grab a sweater.”

“Okay. No funny business.”

I rolled my eyes.

He was staying with his mate above the restaurant/bar, so we headed upstairs.

He knocked on the door.

Nothing.

He knocked louder.

Still nothing.

Everyone was asleep.

“Convenient,” I smirked.

Then he lit a cigarette.

I ripped it straight out of his mouth, threw it on the ground and stomped on it.

“DISGUSTING!” I shrieked.

Now, keep in mind: I was fuelled by alcohol, my THIS GUY IS A PLAYER alarm was screaming at full volume, and apparently I’d decided the appropriate response was to become rather arrogant myself.

“So where are you gonna sleep tonight, then?”

He shrugged.

“Maybe in the park.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Just walk me back to the hostel. I’ve got a private room with bunk beds. You can sleep on the top.”

Then, because apparently I felt further clarification was necessary:

“That is NOT code for ‘I want to fuck you,’ mate.”

We arrived at the hostel.

Of course, two of my Aussie mates, Kirt and Brett, were sitting in the living room.

“Ooooooh, Larissa. Who’s THIS guy?”

I waved them away with a flick of my hand.

“Some rando I met at the Old Spaghetti Factory farewell party.”

“What’s his name?”

“Dunno,” I said.

“Ask him.”

Tall Guy finally introduced himself.

“Hi guys, my name’s Drew.”

I immediately added:

“He’s sleeping on the TOP BUNK. And that is all.”

The Aussies pissed themselves laughing.

“Yeah, sure, Larry.”

My family calls me Larry.

And somehow, one of the random Aussies I’d run into in Penticton, Canada, had previously worked at the same club my parents belonged to back home and they both went to school with my younger sister. How we both ended up in the same place at the same time, is beyond me. 

Random?

Yes.

Coincidence?

I don’t really believe in coincidences anymore.

Maybe it’s something else.

Maybe it’s universal orchestration.

And maybe my intuition really did bring me to Penticton for a reason…

He didn’t sleep on the top bunk.

Turns out, when you’re 6 foot 8, bunk-bed options are limited.

He slept on the bottom because he was so tall his legs practically hung off the end of the bed.

Weird, I thought.

It was late. We both fell asleep.

Fully clothed. Still wearing what we’d had on the night before.

No funny business.

Sometime later, I was startled awake by the sound of what I can only describe as someone dying.

It was Tall Guy.

Wheezing.

Oh shit.

I knew that sound.

My mum has asthma.

I woke him up.

“Are you gonna die, dude?”

Romance was clearly alive and well.

“I need my asthma puffer,” he said. “I don’t have it here. I’ll have to go back down to where I’m staying.”

So I walked with him part of the way back.

At some point I spotted the only shop open at that ridiculous hour of the morning.

“I need a drink. I’m going in here to grab one.”

Then, casually:

“See you ’round.”

He stopped.

And looked at me like…

Wait. Is that it?

Apparently, yes.

That was it.

Or at least I thought it was.

I felt a little bad for him now. My arrogant player assessment had softened somewhat after watching the poor bloke nearly wheeze himself to death on the bottom bunk of a Canadian hostel.

So I added:

“If you can’t get back in, come back up to the hostel.”

He said okay.

And left.

And that was it.

That’s how we met.

I stood there for a moment.

Was he right?

Had my intuition actually guided me to this random town I’d never heard of…

to meet him?

And if it had....

what the hell did that mean?

And why?

Oh God.

Get your drink and go back to bed, Larissa.

So I did.

And for now, that’s where I’m going to leave this story.

Because there’s a reason I’m telling it.

A client said something to me recently that brought me straight back to this time in my life.

We were talking about intuition, and underneath what she was saying was an assumption I think a lot of us have:

If my intuition is really guiding me, surely it’s guiding me towards the “right” thing, the easy thing, the comfortable thing.

The good outcome.

The right relationship.

The opportunity that works out.

The person who stays.

The happily-ever-after.

But that’s not how intuition always works.

Sometimes intuition guides you towards something that will become part of your life.

And sometimes it guides you towards something that will change your life.

Sometimes it guides. you closer to parts of you, you didn't know were in there until you had to awaken them.

Drew wasn’t my forever-after.

But looking back, I absolutely believe I needed that chapter.

I needed the experiences.

I needed the lessons.

I needed to see parts of myself I couldn't yet see.

I needed to grow into parts of myself that didn't exist yet.

And, strangely enough, some of what happened during that chapter laid a foundation for who I would become and who I would eventually be, when I met the man who did become my forever-after.

So when I think back to that ridiculously confident 6-foot-8 Canadian telling me:

“Your intuition guided you here to meet me.”

I still laugh.

Because maybe the cheeky bastard was right.

Just not for the reasons either of us could possibly have understood that night.

To be continued…

Larissa xx