When I was single, there were many times when I thought things were falling apart.
It would usually start with dropping my favourite palette at the start of the night, speckles of bronzer everywhere, and end with dropping my tub of burger sauce at 3am. And somewhere in between all these little collapses, were the big ones. You know, the “I think he’s gone weird…” moments. There are definitely remnants of my younger heart still scattered across the dancefloor of my local late bar, each one telling a different story. All of them cringing… massively.
As I said, many times I thought things were falling apart. I met disaster after disaster, merged them with the many misfortunes of my personality, and together we had a recipe for him going weird. Sometimes it was fun, apart from when it wasn’t. You see, as you all know, some guys were the emotional equivalent of the tub of burger sauce, but some had me hooked like my favourite palette. They were everything, until they became like gold dust, scattered over things I knew, but with little potential anymore.
I fell numerous times in those days, big part of this due to the huge platform heels I absolutely could not walk in, but also emotionally. I was thinking recently that I would love to gather all of those dancefloor remnants now, bottle them up, remind her that nothing was really falling apart – but I guess that’s what I Think He’s Gone Weird is for. So hey, I’m already doing it. Reminiscing, reliving, and still cringing… massively. Burger sauce needed, asap!
