The Time Comes

the time comes,
when your old love meets someone new,
the tears which you haven't cried
auto-multiply and flood out

the time was always to come
when he met someone new
impossible to prepare
an appropriate reaction

the time has come
and he's met someone new
i feel devastated
and i'm not supposed to

demoralised and desperate

Barely. Beer-fuelled again and i just confided bravely in a man who works with the boy with the bad surname about my crush and experiences with that bad surname yet lovely boy-man who i feel some sense of destiny about. Is it my infantile brain or intuitive brain that is making me still think and somewhat obsess over him (though really what am i doing that is so obsessive other than thinking and writing about him?).

Late night and beer-fuelled is when you do experiments with your names and google. What happens if you put the name of his now wife and he into google? Nothing. What happens if you swap his wife's name for my name? Nothing.

At risk of exposing myself as a complete nutter who is still in teenage romanceville; i just want to express that something about my relationship (or lack thereof) with the now-married man, seems unresolved. Do i have more imagination than is helpful in a situation such as this? Should i be thinking about the business relationships forged today?

Fuck it. Something about his wedding photo doesn't seem right, but then wedding photos never do. I shouldn't judge his rightness for his wife based on his wedding photo's naturalness. That's not his nor her fault. Yes, i am demoralised. Yes, i am up late with no snacks. Yes, i am in a hotel room. Yes, i have drunk beer and champagne and consumed finger food only (food for fingers). I am drunk and demoralised and desperate and maybe i should divert my attention to thinking about Gotye.

Are there any decent men left for me or have i missed my course? Actually, i just want one decent perfect man.

Please advise asap.

Gotye - yet another intellectual crush

I'm in love (well that's a bit of a generalisation and perhaps beer-fuelled) with the musical artist Gotye. I have met him very briefly a few years ago, spoken to him on the phone when i answered my former partner's mobile and seen him play at Meredith. That's it for personal contact - so, yes, probably not in love at all. Not even as significantly as the boy with the bad surname who's on his honeymoon. If his new wife get hits by a tsunami which can be known to happen on Thailand honeymoons, then perhaps i'll crudely have a shoe in.

So Gotye; I listened to him on my sister's ipod (never been into ipods until i realised the value of them when in car with one's parents). I am moved by his music. His music makes me think he must be an interesting man. The potential of an interesting man makes me want to get my physical appearance sorted asap. If there's any value in being single (and there's bloody lots), it is a window of opportunity to turn myself into an uber-being fit for the man of my dreams who is sure to enter stage right when i am ready.

A haircut is in order.