I have been harbouring a serious crush for the past three years. Actually, harbouring may not be the correct word, since everyone who knows me, knows ALL about my crush.
For the purposes of my blog – he will be known as Rock God. He is perfection – tall, dark, great eyebrows, amazing nose, endearingly shy, sensational guitar player and the voice of…well… a Rock God.
It all started one Thursday evening at the Blues Room. I had gone there with a couple of mates to watch the Parlotones. The Blues Room is always sneaky in the way that they cram in a whole bunch of crap opening bands before the main feature, in a desperate bid to develop a fan base for some struggling teenage band trying to sound like The Calling. So, understandably, I wasn’t paying much attention to the opening band setting up, and focused instead on my mates and Jack Daniels. Suddenly, a chord was strummed… the stage lit up… and there was Rock God. I was hooked.
Three years later, I still haven’t recovered.
In the past three years, I’ve been through two relationships (one serious, one not), moved out of home, finished varsity and found myself a career – yet still haven’t managed to get over my infantile crush on Rock God.
In some ways, it’s kinda fun. I get to rally up a group of mates, head over to the Blues Room, and get that butterfly-in-the-stomach, weak-kneed, light-headed giddiness of being in the vicinity of Rock God – all the while, trying to look blasé and unaffected.
The blasé and unaffected stance has been selected as the winner – in terms of my own self-respect, as I’ve moved through several different phases in my encounters with Rock God.
The first phase involved the initial conversation – I had just started playing guitar, and decided this would be the best way to break the ice. I strutted up to Rock God, and happily proclaimed: “Hey, great set. You’re awesome on guitar – I’ve just started playing…. Here – feel the calluses on my fingers!” Later, I decided this approach was a little too happy-go-lucky and not the one to go for – despite Rock God giving me his number after this encounter, which remains on my phone, unused.
The second phase was the drunken, inhibitions lowered, tactless approach. This involved me stumbling up to Rock God towards the end of the evening, and saying… actually…. I don’t remember what was said. And I’m quite happy about that.
Finally I settled on the blasé and unaffected approach. This involves Rock God coming up to me to say hi, and I in return look half-interested and bored. I’m not sure why I’ve settled on this approach, but it is the only one that leaves me with a smidgen of dignity.
I'm sure I'll get over it one of these days - but until then... rock on rock stars!
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9 comments:
Wowza trousers... Cannot help you out there. Although the "feel the calouses on my fingers" did crack me up. One day we get over the crushes, I had my own - no, not on Rock God - but it took about a year to get over the sillyness of it all. But at the sametime - man it was good. Just enjoy the feeling, if something happens cool, if not, well, drool cleans up easily anyway
phlippy - Yep... my callous chat up line was a real winner - feel free to use it any time. I know I'll get over Rock God one of these days - my bleeding heart will heal just like my guitar playing fingers have healed (hehe, how dramatic)
Wow he sounds dishy! Girls go moggy for a guy who can play the guit. But why O why have you never used his number silly girl?
By any small chance does his number end in the digits 8427?
There is something about a man and his guitar... oddly enough the same can't be said for drummers... or keyboard players.
Nope, the last four digits are 6796, and they are definitely not on my phone to be used. They are simply there for the sake of being there...
SIGH... please read dating parts 1 through 4 for more information on the topic - LoL
phlippy - Dating parts 1 through 4 came too late for me. I should have read the dating gospel three years ago. I've been holding onto this number for waaay too long now to suddenly use it.
I'll call it! Get chatting about how I got his number from someone in the Industry, would he be interested in recording some tracks, meet to discuss it and BANG! There you are, in the bag, calloused fingers and all. I would make the perfect Hitch ;o)
Great lordwiggly, now all we need to do is iron out a few small details... like how do we manage to slip in at a later stage that you actually aren't from a recording label, and actually some crazed stalker chick posted his number up on the internet in a desperate bid to make him fall head over heels in lurve with her.
I think its quite romantic really. Which guy wouldn't be chuffed after all that effort? The small details are, in this case, immaterial.
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