Faith, fate and nacho cheese

I tell myself I don’t believe in fate. Instead, I believe in faith. Although, there are times that I meet someone or go somewhere and I think, just maybe? Like the time I met G., just a few days before my departure from Atlanta. (We have somehow continued to stay in touch). I like that G. loves his pet as much as I love mine, designer denim and cheesy jokes (like nachos – the cheesier, the better!) [Insert cheesy joke here: what do you call cheese that isn't yours? Nacho cheese!].
I have to keep asking myself (and G. too) why it is I met G. right before I moved. The last time I posed this question, G. responded, “It's fun to hypothesize that we're fantastic for each other, just cruelly and ill-fatedly separated immediately following our chance meeting. In the mean-time, I suppose we'll have to continue substituting the would-be daring romance with corny jokes and pictures of our pets.” Well G., (frowning) I guess you're right. And hey, I’ve got one just for you …
Q: What Do You Call Four Bullfighters In Quicksand?
A: Quattro Sinko.