groupie

Last night, the folks and I were having dinner at this place where every wall cried of happy memories of being carefree and in love and knowing that everything will be alright. I almost buckled under the tragedy of it all. Eating Italian didn't help either. Then, Rose calls to say we're going out, boss' treat, meet us there. Where? Some bar in Mina As'salam. Oh no. More memories. But fine, sure, why not? A few minutes later, Jelly calls to say there's been a change of plans. We're heading to Hard Rock instead. Whew. Finally, an escape from the choking past.

And what an escape. Three words: Hot. Lead. Guitarist. Standing just about three feet away from me, all brooding and fine, his fingers working the strings and his voice singing the pain and memories away. Ech, I just heard how cheesy that sounds. Ah, who cares.

A couple of drinks into the night, I'm entertaining fantasies of him playing for me, only for me, under a moonlit sky, all brooding and fine, his voice, his fingers...ok, ok. Enough na. Haha.

Pardonnez-moi, I'm just trying to enjoy singlehood again. I realize that the world's too beautiful to frown at. And besides, if it insists on showing me cute band boys to feed my resolve to have fun, then really, I have to oblige. :D