Once I had a boyfriend with dreadlocks that I was neither hear nor there about not because he was short, but because his height had effected his personality to the extent that the term "short mans syndrome" was nothing short of an understatement when describing him. Anyway, for come reason, even more unusual then his singing voice I decided to go to England with him. What I had neglected to tell him is that I had an old passionate Italian lover that lived in London. Now like any Italian stallion this one had a way of lingering in my mind. Who could resist a long haired travelling Italian photographer? I didn't stand a chance and nor did my Jockey like companion. It didn't take much for my current boyfriend to annoy me to the point that I was packing my bags, thanking him for an amazing!, life changing!, earth shattering! three months and jumping on the nearest train to London. He was devastated, he cried and chased me to the train station. I looked at him sympathetically, trying to disguise my pity and told him "I'm sorry baby, the heart wants what the heart wants".
Like always I was broke, I'm talking no ticket back to Australia, no money for accommodation etc. All I had was a memory of a crazy fling, a fling that hadn't even lasted that long and a desperation for a life with slightly more risks and slightly less dreadlocks. With nothing but a map and a keen sense of desperation, I of course found my man. He was cutting hair in a little barber shop in Soho(did I mention he was a barber? probably not as its no where near as romantic as his photography yet much more imperative to his survival), it paid terribly but the tips were good and we all know Stallions don't need much to get by. He was thrilled to see me. Picking me up in the middle of the street and showing me off to all his friends. He told me in his deep Stallion voice that he'd look after me, we'd live together in the little hostel he lived in and I had nothing to worry about. We had a ball together, road trips in the snow, photography expeditions. He took me to all the Museums and gallery's desperately hoping I'd turn out to be the girl he'd always desperately hoped for. Meanwhile I too was desperate, desperate to be held in this corner of the world forever, desperate to appear believable in my interest for History and desperate not to be exposed for the wine guzzling uncultured fraud that I so wished I wasn't.
Needless to say I was eventually exposed (and when I say eventually I mean after 7 weeks. Long however by my standards), I cant remember the details (OK I can but don't want to get into them) they involved about 3 bottles of red and a restaurant full of people I didn't know. My stallion left me and no amount of begging or ignoring was going to get him back. I did my standard creepy thing, I went to his work, called from a private number and all that jaz. All he could say to me was "Hey, you broke the short guys heart and now I'm braking yours. Its the circle of love"
So that was my long winded way of explaining The circle of love. Not unlike Love karma only Love Karma's more like when you don't bother to even courtesy call a fella after a shag chances are its going to happen to you. Love Karma's also responsible for those people that seem to be at the top of the Love chain and dodge the circle of Love by always being the dumper and never the dumpee- Love Karma steps in by making sure that there never happy. Never for long anyway, always picking at small things that annoy them.
Anyway so that very next week when I had decided to pull myself out of my miserable state I was sitting on the bar at the restaurant I was tortured in daily (cant call that work) when in walked the florist. Now the florist came to the restaurant every week to change the flowers and he was beautiful. He was skinny with tatts all over his hands, always wore an old man hat and had side burns half way down his sensitive looking face. His flowers were amazing (or maybe they weren't but I'm a romanticist.) Anyway on a mission to recover my self esteem I walked up to him knelt down beside the vase he was arranging and handed him my number. I told him he was beautiful and he should go for a walk with me (god knows that's all I could afford). He smiled beautifully yet sympathetically and tucked my number into his pocket. I knew he would never call me. But, later that very same day in comes the wine delivery boy. He bounced in like he did everyday, smiled at me and told me "Its a good day if I see you Constance" as I was wiping down a painfully dull bench he walked up to me and asked, "if I give ask you out, you wont say yes will you?" I replied sympathetically "Sorry baby, the heart wants what the heart wants"
Dam that Circle of Love.