More hungover nonsense.

So I think I’m falling for a person on the internet.  Alright, I do know who she is but I think I have said two words to her.  Maybe I just have this image of the girl she will be, in the mold of Regina Spektor with a cute smile and pale skin.  And then she posts a picture of one of my most beloved musicians (I won’t say who in case she reads this and shit gets really awkward) and I get all fluttery.  And then I start playing Regina Spektor and my heart skips a beat.  I try to distract myself from those thoughts but then it all comes back to trying to force something through a sly comment on instagram or even worse, a private inbox.  Golly, just chill out and let it happen man!

But what if it doesn’t?  What if this is that moment?  Hold on a second mate, you’re 22 and you’re going to backpack around next year where you will probably meet a beautiful Brazilian woman named Natalia whose kisses taste like strawberries and she has those perfectly shaped…. Anyway.  It all seems like such an effort.  But I can’t wait for these things to happen.  I get excited, I get worried, I fly through the emotions like a bluebird spinning through an aeroplane propeller.  That’s pretty morbid.  I’ve been told by a friend to stop planning, to stop forcing, to stop… basically being so you.  That’s essentially the problem, I am me and I keep things going even when there is no spark left, I start things that will go nowhere and then I completely blow any genuine chance through an overactive mind.

Strangely, this makes me extremely happy.  I like setting these bullshit meetings up, I love chasing the unlikely if only to be able to push it aside and start over again.  I think it is the inevitability of some sort of formal partnership with another that remains planted in my head which in turn pushes me to latch onto these opportunities and run with them no matter the direction.  If I put my mind to more useful ideas I’d probably be a very wealthy man with a bevvy of delightfully charming women tracing my every move, maybe searching my rubbish bin for a few hints of my likes and dislikes and a million people would be reading this blog with the most recent post titled ‘The Quadrant: The Asian Century is upon us’.  I don’t think too many women my age would be overly attracted to an expert in Australasian economic relations however I am willing to suggest that many would be attracted to the financial security I would offer them… Not that I am suggesting that all women are gold diggers!  Far from that.  Love is anything but simple.  Love is anything but stereotypes, generalisations and Hollywood scripts.  Love may not even be real.  Love might just be the grandest myth that has ever existed.

But no, I have loved things, I have loved women, I have loved and love friends.  I know it exists and that is why I waste my precious time on following every sniff of potential, no matter how unlikely it is from the outset.  Call me sad, call me desperate, call me every name under the sun and I will probably agree with you.  I am a delusional fool.  But do not pity me, do not pity the path I have chosen because I enjoy the shocks, the laughs, the heart break and the rebuilding phase.  And I will be mightily disappointed when that joy seeps from me and the smell of young women at a dirty nightclub stops exciting me.

She likes one of my instagram snaps and that petty, insignificant act makes me happy.  Now I just need to get a job and get myself to Rio.

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