Fate, Fangs, and Free Will: A Modern Love Rant

If I could change one thing about modern society, it wouldn’t be taxes, TikTok, or the fact that no one seems to use their turn signals anymore (though, let’s be real, all valid complaints). No, I’d change the persistent, swoony notion that fate—that celestial matchmaker in the sky—is the ultimate authority on love.

Look, I enjoy a good shifter romance as much as the next lonely single bibliophile. Throw in a tortured alpha werewolf, a moonlit chase, maybe a conveniently timed shirt rip? Sold. But the trope that makes my eye twitch is the whole “You’re my fated mate, so obviously you can’t leave me even if I’ve been a brooding menace with all the emotional range of a broken toaster.”

Modern society has adopted the notion that fate prevails over effort. That destiny is more romantic than communication, compromise, or choosing to love someone every dang day. When did we start treating relationships like magical binding contracts instead of messy, evolving, conscious commitments?

To quote the ever-iconic Ever After (a movie that, frankly, understood everything):

“You cannot leave everything to fate, [girl]. She’s got a lot to do. Sometimes you must give her a hand.”

Amen. Poor Fate is out here juggling soulmates, global events, and rogue asteroids. The least we can do is show up and put in the emotional labor.

So here’s to free will. To choosing someone not because a glowing mark told you to, but because they make you laugh-snort at dinner, and they bring you tea when you’re cranky, and you both agreed not to ghost each other after one weird weekend.

Fate can get us to the door. But love? Real love? That takes someone grabbing the knob, turning it, and saying, “Okay, I’m in. Let’s do this messy, beautiful thing—together.”