For Amanda, to cheer her up

a romantic ramble

At First Sight

As a pop lover, the idea of falling in love (or whatever) at first sight comes up often. And of all the millions of gals who’ve etched an initial or two on me over the years only a handful have been at first sight. You know, the lightning in the head. The bucket of water to the face. The punch in the gut. In fact only twice has this happened to me.

1) 17 and at a party. I never go to parties. It wasn’t even a party for kids from my high school. I was a complete tag along, in a suburb I’ve never been to ever (or since). I remember getting lost and walking around and asking a member of the Whitlams for directions (another stories). And there she was, talking to two other boys, in a badly lit room, full of drunken teenagers hoping to score. And it hit. And I remember thinking “I have to know your name.”

2) Years later and heartbroken and back from being away, bumping into a friend at a venue. And just telling them about another ending and just every so often looking at her friend. Then again. Then again. And she was beautiful. And even though there were other people to talk to that night I just wanted to talk to her. She kinda smiled at me as I was just going on and on to my friend about some romantic garbage. And it all just lifted. And I did manage to talk to her, in between asking everyone else about her. Maybe it was rebound, but the months that followed proved that to be untrue. I didn’t see her for a while but I thought about her every day since that night til we met again.

And I guess neither worked cos I was a bit too knocked out by both of them. You know, that’s the advice girls give me all the time. Play it cool. But I’ve never forgotten the way these two girls looked on those nights, and when I’m lonely old man who has no future to speak of so lives in the past (ie. tomorrow), that memory will help we sleep with a smile on my face.

Fuck you Roberta Flack for making me aware of this feeling.

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