I was nineteen when a numerologist told me that – because of the day and time I was born – I would never be lucky with love or money.
Granted, I was a bit skeptical, yet hopeful in equal measure. I didn’t have a boyfriend at the time but, surely, I’d find a wealthy one.
Alas.
I regret to inform you that however many years and men later, I do not remember the Nostradamus wannabe’s name. So, don’t bother asking for a recommendation.
The good news is that I’m still a skeptic.
I’m still ridiculously hopeful.
And I still take my chances.
