I have the phone free for private use, yes. But I have a thing about talking to people.
You can even ask my sis, my mother hated me (and even her) when we had to call a pizza delivery for dinner and they were counting on me to make the call… but at some unexplainable reason… I just can’t lift the phone and flap open my mouth wide to start to talk to the (we all know it) sophomore college call center agent on the other side of the line.
This is a disease, perhaps. My brain is perfectly imperfect. I need to be treated.
The point of all this: please don’t count on me on making calls. I’m inquirophobic.
And i am not quidding.
Any person can inaugurate his own love life. In any given place and time, he can respond to the call within himself. it is not fate that serves as the proximate cause of such phenomenon, it is only there as a crossroad or a menu in a restaurant where you have all the capacity to choose and select the most probable ends.
Mere chance is immaterial.