Mr Metalcore

They say the best way to get over someone is under someone else. I don’t know if that was proven in my subsequent experiment, but it certainly changed my perception on the situation. After the dreaded Mr Below-Potential I thought it fitting to have an amazing night with the incomparable Ms JDub and PollyManiac. Still to this day that evening goes down as one of the best nights in history. And unsurprisingly, one of the drunkest.

It began with wine and dinner at our favourite haunt Cyber City. Wine being $2 bottles of Bowlers Hat Run and dinner being 4 vegetarian spring rolls *Side note: We would spend about $4 each the whole night. They soon stipulated that it had to be a minimum of $10 per person. PollyManiac’s husband made a point of blaming us for that. Probs true.

After 5 bottles of wine we had the brilliant idea of heading to Fat Louis’s for dancing. With a half-finished bottle in my oversized Fluff tote bag, we ordered three glasses of white and hit the dance floor. Whitney had just OD’d into pop star heaven, so we obliged to her request from beyond the grave to “Dance with somebody”. Nobody is musically picky after consuming the alcoholic equivalent of a lobotomy. After all, I had just survived a break up. I was allowed to let loose. I did not think that meant losing my clothes later on in the evening.

Mr Metalcore was visiting our fair city from the coast. He was with some mates and as friendly strangers we exchanged nightclub contraband; he, his hipflask of gin; me, my 750ml bottle of sauv blanc. I noticed he had every band logo he had tattooed on him were bands I had not listened to since my brief foray into the world of melodic hardcore in 2004. Converge, Norma Jean, ummm something else…. They all sound the same to me now. Needless to say, if I was 19 I would have been in crush heaven. But I’m not. However he seemed to take quite a liking to me.

After it was apparent that  Polly was becoming way too friendly with the porcelain bowl we decided it was time to leave, and because my friends are so coercive  conniving  manipulative supportive, before I knew it they had pushed me in a cab with my admirer and sent me on my way. To be perfectly honest I do not remember much. I do however remember the 800 phone calls and messages from PollyManiac and JDub I woke up to the next morning after the triumphant discovery that PollyManiac’s wallet was in my bag. I suddenly felt like Steve McQueen in the Great Escape, “Ohhhhhh I have to go! She needs her wallet! Soz, bye!” It was over. I had successfully lived through my first sexual encounter since le break up.

It was not however the end of Metalcore boy. Flash forward a few months later, I received a message on Facebook and a new follower on Instagram. I had been successfully stalked. Buggers me how. Some people have too much time on their hands. And need to impress. And at the risk of sounding ungrateful I must admit that his lovely gestures and recent trips from the coast to the city to visit me are turning out to be, well, for nothing. When I meet someone of the opposite sex there needs to be that spark. I need the butterflies, the excitement in my stomach that lets me know that there is chemistry afoot. Otherwise I am blasé and disinterested. I may not ever meet the rockabilly god of my dreams, I may never meet that one with the style and class of Brian Setzer, Mike Ness, hell, Nick 13. But I want chills creeping up my spine. And metalcore just ain’t my thing no more.